The year is 1989. Al Pacino is an alcoholic cop hunting a killer of men out there somewhere in the dark streets of New York City. A Manhattan guy who placed an ad in the lonely hearts section of the local paper is found naked, bound, and shot through the head. A lipstick-stained cigarette sits in an ashtray. An old 45 of Sea of Love, the last song he would ever hear, spins mindlessly. Then, another victim turns up in Queens. Same bondage, same song, same personals ad.