Well-acted and creepy film. Tim Roth's American accent was so amazing I had to verify it was him. Phenomenal.
Roth plays a cynical, sometimes vicious, alcoholic given to apparent epileptic blackouts who hates his wealthy parents. Renee Zellweger is moving as the prostitute he is accused of butchering. Michael Rooker and Chris Penn are Kennesaw and Braxton, the rough-edged cops investigating but Roth's moneyed character is able to learn the cops' own embarrassing and ruinous dark secrets which he intends to use for his own purposes. He at times essays a contemptuous upper-class dudgeon, sneering at those he considers his lessers but that seems more ostensible than genuine, done for effect, if you will.
By the time the table have briefly turned and Kennesaw is attached to the lie detector, the film strains credibility in a way that it had managed to avoid doing primarily through the viewer's willing suspension of disbelief and the strength of Roth's performance. At this point, while Kennesaw is undergoing a mini-meltdown, Rooker's thick Southern accent rendered much of what he was saying unintelligible (at least to these NYC ears) and the film never quite recovers its equilibrium. The ending is a shocker in more than one way (although the quids pro quo that lead to it are manifest) -- but not one which lasts too long.
Roth plays a cynical, sometimes vicious, alcoholic given to apparent epileptic blackouts who hates his wealthy parents. Renee Zellweger is moving as the prostitute he is accused of butchering. Michael Rooker and Chris Penn are Kennesaw and Braxton, the rough-edged cops investigating but Roth's moneyed character is able to learn the cops' own embarrassing and ruinous dark secrets which he intends to use for his own purposes. He at times essays a contemptuous upper-class dudgeon, sneering at those he considers his lessers but that seems more ostensible than genuine, done for effect, if you will.
By the time the table have briefly turned and Kennesaw is attached to the lie detector, the film strains credibility in a way that it had managed to avoid doing primarily through the viewer's willing suspension of disbelief and the strength of Roth's performance. At this point, while Kennesaw is undergoing a mini-meltdown, Rooker's thick Southern accent rendered much of what he was saying unintelligible (at least to these NYC ears) and the film never quite recovers its equilibrium. The ending is a shocker in more than one way (although the quids pro quo that lead to it are manifest) -- but not one which lasts too long.