Def By Temptation Review

Am evil seductress is preying on the willing men of New York for her own nefarious purposes. However, a minister-in-training returns to town to visit his brother, and may throw a spanner in her devilish works.

by Jack Yeovil |
Release Date:

23 Mar 1990

Running Time:

95 minutes



Original Title:

Def By Temptation

Temptation (Bond), a seductress so slinky that she makes Robin Givens in A Rage In Harlem look like one of the fat boys, loiters in a bar in New York, dangling her cigarette for any passing male to inflame. However, the studs she hauls off to her place for a spot of hide-the-sausage in her plush red four poster bed, never come back for more. Anyone familiar with Elementary Hollywood Demonology will have Temp pegged as a soul-sucking succubus from Hell with definite vampire tendencies, but the New Yorkers in the bar are only too eager to serve themselves up to her vagina dentata.

Meanwhile, Joel (Bond III), a wannabe minister on the verge of turning his collar around, has come to stay with his homeboy "K" (Hardison), partially to get his head around this no-drinking-no-sex thing, but mainly to fulfil his destiny by doing a little spiritual and physical one-on-one with the hellspawn beast who killed his father when he was little and who has been haunting his dreams ever since.

The first significant black-themed horror movie since the 70s heyday of Blacula, Blackenstein and Dr Black And Mr Hyde, Def By Temptation is a flavourful little programmer, peppered with Spike Lee-style jive-talking dialogue. The plot falls into the Nothing Special file, but director-writer-star James Bond III - yes, it is his real name - manages to make as interesting, not-too-heavy picture out of the material, serving up some effective sex-horror sequences with a side order of wry humour, and at the same time proving that - unlike most white horror pictures these days - he has a few ideas in his head as he works in some trenchant snippets about black sexual attitudes and religious preferences.

The last reel gets pretty wild as characters are swallowed by televisions and abused by Spitting Image Ronald Reagan lamp stands, not to mention dragged in and out of dreams until plot continuity ceases to matter, but actually it's the earlier stretches, as creepy little incidents disrupt the endless barroom chatter, that stay with you.
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