Too many things wrong with this one to really care for it. The main problem is too much focus on over-the-top depictions of the gay S&M subculture, and not enough on its characters. The undercover cop (Al Pacino), his girlfriend (Karen Allen), and the killer (???) are all ridiculously underdrawn. We don't get enough of what's going through the cop's mind as he's undercover, the girlfriend is only there to serve as a barometer of his heterosexuality, and the killer has some cliché "daddy issues." We do, however, get public fisting ffs.
Especially for 1980, it's unfortunate that this was the window mainstream America got into gay life, as it felt voyeuristic and intended to shock, not serve as a source of understanding or empowerment, at least as best possible as a backdrop to a murder mystery. Maybe the neighbor character, the aspiring writer, was intended to balance some of this out, but he was quickly lost, perhaps by things like the ridiculous man in the precinct house wearing nothing but a jockstrap and walking into interrogations to slap gay suspects around. What the hell was that?
I loved the little bits critiquing the police department at various levels - the beat cops harassing guys on the street and forcing one to perform oral sex, the captain (Paul Sorvino) who too quickly looks the other way, and the chief of detectives who doesn't really empathize with the victims, only wanting to avoid untimely negative publicity. It's too bad more wasn't done with this, but maybe there was a moment of transformation in the captain finding that last body.
The story doesn't really hold together as a police procedural, however. Maybe the film didn't want us to think about Pacino's character having to go home with guys to be effective at his assignment, so a lot of the time, he's just standing around in a bar, watching the raunchy antics of the wild crowd. Early on we're made to understand he's working for the captain only, with no one else knowing about it, but then in one critical scene swarms of cops come to his aid - only to then disappear at the end, when he acts completely alone again. There are also attempts at adding ambiguity into the story in several ways, but they all felt more forced than intriguing.
It's Pacino's character that ends up being the real mystery. You could see this as a man whose bisexuality is awakened, that he goes home with enough men like the guy we see him following out of the park that he loses interest in his girlfriend, and then later knows the repartee well in the climactic encounter. You could also see it as a straight man who has been overwhelmed by what he's seen and done, so much so that his relationship suffers along the way, and even when he's back with her at the end, he's liable to suffering flashbacks and trauma. It was interesting pondering that, but it felt like the film was being less artistic in its ambiguity, and more inhibited by what it felt it could show in a 1980 Hollywood production with a big star like Pacino. Regardless, it was less than completely satisfying, like everything else here.
