Final Cut (aka Death Games for us Yanks) is a different type of psychological thriller, and one that, unfortunately, offered so much clever chit-chat and trickery to arouse your suspicions of the characters on the screen, but that had ended with much nonsense and relatively little bang.

This is the story of a young, idealistic filmmaker and his journalist sidekick beauty. The filmmaker is finally given approval to make a film on popular record producer, and promises to deliver to the network a production full of juicy details. His career depends on it. But, his subject never seems to cooperate and instead, enjoys toying with the couple one evening aboard a yacht when a bloodied woman appears to have fallen overboard (film which conveniently goes missing) and then later, during a weekend in the producer's penthouse high rise. There is relatively little action going on to grab your attention, aside from copious amounts of gratuitous nudity and lesbian seduction among the characters, but much of the film is purely dialog. The producer, sure to annoy the filmmaker by letting him very few details of his personal life for the picture despite expectations otherwise, just goes on and on with little suggestions of ill will and demise. But, nothing ever really happens. And in the end, if you haven't fallen asleep or otherwise, tuned out the movie, you might otherwise be confused, or dissatisfied entirely which, only artificially so, looks like a clever ending.

Deathgames had plenty of potential, although some of it being falling prey to the standards of the cat-and-mouse chase thriller, with some Hitchockian elements. But this film doesn't even offer that much. And the flaws weren't inherent in its obviously low-budget atmosphere or the acting ability of its stars (even that didn't get in the way). But rather, you're always careful to hold on the words of the character, sure that you're able to put the mystery together, but there really is no mystery.