When a scene opens up with a line like "This is gonna sound like a cliche, but..." you just know you're in for choppy waters ahead. What's next, a good cop/bad cop routine and a fat Italian mobster named Ant'ny? Unfortunately it is next — as is every eyeball-rolling frame of deja-vu as the viewer calls the shots ten steps ahead of the cast.

Traci Lords plays one half of a married cat burglar team, working for a crooked insurance company (now there's a redundancy) who are tired of paying off a particular Mafioso's claims. She and hubby Phillip Troy decide to keep the latest heist for themselves, but in a moment of stupidity that defies any form of rational thought, they entrust the ice to her gambling brother, who happens to be in deep with a rival crime boss! (I can almost hear the collective sound of our readers smiting their foreheads in disbelieving unison about now.) Naturally the gangsters close in for the loot; her husband eats lead; and Traci gets geared up for revenge with nasty explosives and a highly unflattering pout for the remaining seventy minutes.

At this point, you make ask yourself, "OK, I give up on the story, but how much skin does Traci bare to make it worthwhile?" The answer is, perfunctorily, none. A brief, clothed (bra and panties — don't ask) shower scene is all the exposure that her still-supple form gets, and being the sole female in the picture, there ain't much else to look forward to. This is a real shame, since the production values are far higher than the script deserves. Neither a smart caper film nor a gripping action drama, Ice is a violent equivalent to hardcore porn, with a hail of bullets instead of a gratuitous sex scene erupting every six minutes when the dialogue becomes intolerable. Frankly, we'd prefer the porn — at least there's a climax. Featuring Zach Galligan.