Though it eviscerates the white establishment from the opening reel, much of the film exhibits a deeply conservative worldview, even for 1991.
Patrick Doyle’s wondrously bombastic score sounds as if Franz Waxman were scoring a slasher movie.
The film is a coup in Bigelow’s early exploration of men’s love of themselves and one another.
Linda Hamilton gets so little due respect over the years for how much of the film’s midsection rides on her.
The ingrained self-hatred of its characters reflect outward toward those who remind them of themselves.