Given that this intensely schlocky, cheap-as-chardonnay-in-a-box erotic thriller is about identical twins who are often mistaken for each other, it can’t be a mere accident that it’s coming out hot on the heels of similarly titled romcom The Idea of You, an Anne Hathaway-vehicle about a fortysomething woman falling for a 24-year-old pop star. Surely, I will not be the only person to get the two mixed up.
Interestingly, it’s sort of a toss up as to which is more enjoyable. While The Idea of You is indubitably better financed and more lushly upholstered with fancy locations, snazzier costumes and a gazillion extras, it’s air of self-seriousness is irksome. The Image of You, on the other hand, is an adaptation of a novel by Adele Parks, and has the quick and dirty production values of a mid-70s murder mystery TV show. Consider, for instance, the setting in a medium-sized American city (Denver, Colorado) that constantly features in aerial and skyline shots within the super-retro split screen montages that establish location, like the opening credits of Baretta or The Rockford Files. At other times, the split screen set ups show star Sasha Pieterse slinking around from several angles at once, as if she were a shot-putter at the Olympics, but one who wears very loud red lipstick and fancy lingerie.
Pieterse, in fact, plays both Anna and Zoe, identical twins who have exactly the same headful of blond extensions but different taste in clothes. Anna is the prim one who works for a charity and everyone thinks is super-nice; Zoe is a bitchy model-actor who promptly seduces Nick (Parker Young), Anna’s dumb lunk of a boyfriend mere weeks after he proposes to her. Eventually, there is a crime which even Baretta’s pet cockatoo would have been able to crack faster than the supremely dim characters here. There’s a bit of soft-core humping and salty talk to break up the tedium, a phenomenon that’s fast disappearing from most mainstream films. The ripe naffness on show makes it somehow entertaining, especially as you can tell the film knows it’s naff.
