Who'd have thought incest, murder, lust, greed, backstabbing and insanity could be so painfully boring? Oliver Stone's self-consciously postmodern gloss on novelist John Ridley's fairly straightforward narrative is a clotted mishmash of noir cliches tricked up with
the sort of frantically glitzy cinematography and editing that made NATURAL BORN KILLERS such a migraine-inducing experience. No-luck gambler Bobby Cooper (Sean Penn) is on his way to Vegas to settle accounts with some volatile Russian gangsters -- the guys who cut off two of his fingers when he
was a little slow to pay up -- when fate sticks out its foot and trips him up but good. A broken radiator hose...