Kathleen (Emily Ulerup) has a secret. A dark secret. S*xual secrets. The door locked behind the cupboard? This is not a panic room or Fritos and Kit Kats secret hideout. No, it’s her red light boudoir where she is the dominant star on the webcam for Fantasy, Inc. This is a side gig for him because he is a high school English teacher. And this is where you can make fun of the teacher salaries.
But even if it were funny, it wouldn’t be so funny.
Kathleen’s sister Grace Miller (Milan), a crime novelist, Elsewhere. Whose name is more significant than the title on her book cover. It reads a partial scrolling page to a live audience. He then gets a frantic call from Kathleen, so he approaches her. They hadn’t spoken in five years, so Kathleen caught up with him.
He was no longer addicted to drugs, learned that he force-fed Shakespeare to teenagers. At the local snobby academy, and went through a hell of a divorce. She fights for custody of her son and has to deal with her wealthy ex-husband. He did not mention whips and chains; Would you mind telling Grace that she’s going to stay awhile. And sign the refi and so on, though, at some point. It might take her an hour or two to get some new novels out for sale at the airport.
The following day, while formulating a truly pro-patriarchal. And not a conspiracy to exploit the murdered woman. She argues with her sister about it. Grace looks out of the window and watches her neighbour. As she cuts her chainsaw over little Baum’s drive not right. -true exists.
It’s ambiguous, but you take what you can get when you’re middle-aged like Grace (and me!). Ed (Sam Page) is an intrepid homicide detective. Who fixes the house next door if he doesn’t read Grace’s novels for 45 minutes.
They flirt and go out for a drink that night under Grace’s protection.
He needed her to help formulate a relatively realistic plot for his next book. Once they got home and finished smearing her face, Grace found Kathleen dead on the floor, and they’re just so happened to be two master assassins in the same room. Meanwhile, a mystery is revealed: now we know what happened to all the scary images of a chaser we saw earlier in the film.
Falling in love with Who’s the Boss since 1987 is something I’ve always enjoyed in Milan. But I still can’t apologize enough on his behalf for this unforgettable toothless trash.
Today we have to delve into the good/bad analysis of trash because Brazen is mediocre trash, with absolutely no surprises, interesting characters, and one decent dialogue. The title (short for Roberts Brazen’s novel Virtue, whose title is made up of two words of the most diminutive meaning and at best of English origin) conveys a boldness that can find nowhere else.
You’ll laugh at all the wrong moments, and our inability to tell if that was intentional or not continues to sink this film in its warm waters. Worse, it doesn’t even try to be bland; it’s barely next door. It is a pleasure guilt for people who prefer guilt to pleasure.
So you know what you’re getting into here:
Director Monica Mitchell’s resume includes several films made for television, including several Christmas time wasters. It’s a smooth, professional production that looks nice and clean and is probably finished with an $85 Williams-Sonoma cheese knife.
Your eyes will actually pop out of your skull long before the Milan heroine offers her “expertise” to the police on the murder, and they accept it even though she is romantically involved with the members of the case, which should pierce anyone’s brain.
Scary conflicts of interest about scary conflicts of interest, and I mean literally because one conflict of interest sleeps with another. Even that development isn’t exciting, as Brazen aims to be the softest and softest serial killer thriller in recent memory. Embarrassing? Laziness dear!