by Fiona Underhill, Contributor

The 80s were the golden-age of the neo-noir, when they collided with the erotic thriller to combust into hot, steamy, passionate movies full of sex, sweat, sharp clothes, cigarette smoke, saxophone-soaked soundtracks and sultry femme fatales. From Fatal Attraction (Adrian Lyne, 1987), Dressed to Kill (Brian De Palma, 1980) Body Double (Brian De Palma, 1984) and The Bedroom Window (Curtis Hansen, 1987) to the New Orleans movies The Big Easy (Jim McBride, 1986) and Angel Heart (Alan Parker, 1987), and onto the remakes of Breathless (Jim McBride, 1983), Cat People (Paul Schrader, 1982) and The Postman Always Rings Twice (Bob Rafelson, 1981) – the 80s gave us noir fans endless treats. Several of these can currently be found in the Criterion Channel’s neo-noir selection, along with one of the decade’s best – Lawrence Kasden’s Body Heat (1981).

Body Heat was the first of four collaborations between Kasden and William Hurt and all four are fantastic - with the other three being The Big Chill (1983), the hugely under-seen and underrated The Accidental Tourist (1988) and the brilliant dark comedy I Love You to Death (1990). William Hurt plays the perfectly-named Ned Racine – the lawyer who becomes a patsy in the femme fatale’s nefarious scheme. With his tall but fairly skinny frame, floppy blonde hair and mustache, Hurt may not have been a typical sex symbol (especially compared with the Marvel muscles of today), but he absolutely works in the role and his chemistry with Kathleen Turner is electric.

Turner could have been made in a femme fatale factory – she is so perfectly suited to archetype – and it’s no coincidence that she voiced Jessica “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way” Rabbit. With her thick mane of blonde hair, a body that looks fantastic in white silk “you shouldn’t wear that body” and that famous husky voice – Turner was born to play Matty Walker – a danger to rich husbands the world over. Set during a heat-wave in Florida, the aptly named Body Heat is one the sweatiest films of all time – with the steam veritably wafting off the screen. Ted Danson and Mickey Rourke have surprisingly small supporting roles, although it was fairly early in the careers of both actors (it being pre-Cheers for Danson and pre-Diner for Rourke).

The initial meeting of Walker and Racine – over cherry-flavored shaved ice – is a masterclass in flirtation, with some great zingers flying between them - “You’re not too smart, are you? I like that in a man.” And the first sex scene – where Ned smashes a window to get to Matty - is hot as hell, as well as being smartly set up to have us believe he is the predator and she the prey, when in fact it is quite the opposite. One of the best scenes is an awkward dinner with the Walkers and Ned as a hanger-on, with Edmund Walker casually slipping from small-talk and pleasantries to violent threats while Matty is in the bathroom. The inevitable murder scene (which comes at almost the exact halfway point in the film) is nothing to write home about, but the foggy disposal-and-explosion of the body is more dramatic.

In the second half of the film, Ned tries to dig himself out of the increasingly deep hole he finds himself in – between the will, the fact that his best friends are a cop and a DA and Matty acting increasingly suspiciously and then disappearing all together. “She’s trouble, Ned. The real thing - big-time, major-league trouble.” One of the major complications comes from Matty’s sister-in-law and her daughter. The moment when Ned realizes that the daughter, who can positively identify him in a compromising position with Matty, is outside his detective friend’s office is delicious – you can see Hurt’s blood run cold and his soul leave his body before your very eyes. The final shots – of Matty’s yearbook photo (as Ned discovers her real identity) dissolving into present-day Matty (who has faked her own death) on a beach on a tropical island are also perfection. The ultimate femme fatale is a winner who gets away with murder.

It’s hard not to look back on this fertile period of neo-noirs and erotic thrillers without aching for adult movies such as these to return. A time when actors had sizzling chemistry, when actual sex scenes were prevalent and not prudishly exorcised from Hollywood films and when these kinds of non-franchise movies could do well at the box office. At least we can still watch the movies from this heyday (and if you haven’t checked out the Criterion selection, do so!) and enjoy the light streaming through blinds and cigarette smoke, a jazz-filled score, melodrama, red lipstick, white stilettos and everything else that made the 1980s such a good period for the genre. Lawrence Kasden, Kathleen Turner and William Hurt brought us the zenith of the steamy and sultry crime film, which has every ingredient you could possibly want and forty years later still has the power to make us hot under the collar.