Icon of Betrayal is told in flashback as Reid relays her scandalous story to a journalist (Stephanie Osztreicher) under the guise of an interview. The journalist knows something is up, however, when a few minutes into the interview, Reid uncovers a bloody dagger, sitting there next to her cup of tea! Unintentionally hilarious moments like this and the totally unnecessary periodic intertitles that spout off quotes that no one needed populate writer-director Annarie Boor’s feature. The sense is that the film is itching to be sexy late-night softcore, as it has the title and the storyline for such. But it lacks the sex and steaminess to really qualify.
Every line of dialogue spoken is predicated with one of those long pregnant pauses that announce “drama,” and all three principal actors devour Boor’s words. Nesti, often breaking the fourth wall to commentate, has the alluring visage of a 1940s femme fatale and intones every line through ruby red lips as though she is keeping a secret for a later reveal. She’s a total joy to watch!
“…could easily become your next guilty pleasure.”
It’s a shame then that the filmmaker shows no creativity or style in her staging for a plot that clearly demands it. As a result, the story moves from scene to scene with nothing but a soft dissolve. Furthermore, the underlying music, meant to evoke a soap opera, is more appropriate to help insomniacs fall asleep.
So it has its share of problems. But the plot is wonderfully classic showbiz trash. With its aging boozehound actress, sleazy manager, naïve ingénue, murder, and double-crosses, there will always be a place for movies like Icon of Betrayal. If you can withstand the dull rhythm, this could easily become your next guilty pleasure.
"…the plot is wonderfully classic showbiz trash."
