corvus-3

This one works if you can suspend your disbelief just a wee bit more than you'd normally allow. The reward is a twisty ride through smoke and mirrors, stopping along the way to ask some pretty hefty questions.

Jamie is an aspiring actress who is long on ambition but short in the confidence department. Out of desperation, she hooks up with a brilliant but eccentric acting coach. He teaches her that nothing is what it seems, but what she really learns is that if you're good enough at deception, you can get away with murder. However, the real lesson here is that success achieved by becoming more ruthless than your enemies makes you the enemy.

Because your sympathy is with Jamie at all times, you are encouraged to believe that she is forced to take this position by people more evil than herself. This is a highly suspicious concept, I think. But it is an interesting idea and fairly well presented in a funhouse structure with enough surprises to keep you intrigued.

This is modern, skeleton Noir. Within that framework, it is certainly viewable, with Tilly a standout as the femme fatal. In monochrome color, first-person narrative flashback, a jazzy soundtrack, interesting camerawork, and betrayal themes, it appears as a true genre piece. Unfortunately, the script plus the filmmakers' glint toward Schwarzenegger-like action, ruin any dark ambiance they establish. It's all here: the tough but soft-hearted hero, viperous femme, over-the-top bad guy, the black sidekick slated for torture/death. And it all rapidly blows away like gunsmoke during the cartoonish shootouts.

Madsen is in typical Rourke-mode, but with a little more compassion squinting his eyes. Tilly is all whiskey-throated slur as Rina and little-girl whine as Cathy. The movie definitely needs more of Rina, because, with the exception of Busey's Wild Man, she's the cast's only interest. The giveaway is in the prologue, where, in sepia-tone, slow-mo, and voice-over narrative, Madsen labors his death scene, blazing away with dual, silver-toned guns and a monotone from a mortally-wounded script. Ultimately, it boils down to the bullets and body count, without enough desperation or resignation to warrant the blood.