Like every film which tries an approach like this, publicity evokes Rashomon – though the flashbacks we see are not subjective. Rather than having stories which contradict each other, the film presents self-serving voice-overs which segue into unflattering stories — Bobbi refers to ripping off a dope dealer who ODs during their meet as ‘a job interview’, Bennet talks about helpfully upholding the law while we see him abusing innocents, etc., though the little girl seems always to be truthful if evasive. Vital bits of information are withheld and have to be filled in later, to tie up a downbeat twist which is almost studied in its nihilist amorality. It’s all an exercise in misdirection, referring to of Twin Peaks (Lynch wrote the novel spinoff which became Fire Walk With Me) in the friction between slightly eccentric, if sharply-dressed (‘fuckable’) feds and the simmering, outclassed, juvenile local cops (Michael Ironside is the dignified, if slow chief). This pays off in a very different way here than it did in the TV show. It has moments of scripted subtlety – a character who steps out of the story because she has a date with the town coroner later turns up murdered – but too often simply plays cute, with major contrivances to keep the plot balls up in the air.
Pullman and Ormond, veterans of David Lynch films, are fine in the lead roles, and everyone else does what they need to in necessarily limited parts – the witnesses and other cops are naturally subordinate, and this is a movie where it doesn’t do to get too attached to anyone since they almost certainly won’t be around very long. It plays better as a feature-length tease than it does as a study of the dark side of human nature – for its big twists are so hokey that the nagging misanthropy gets swallowed by ‘fooled you!’ taunts.