Courtney Hunt’s film ultimately plays as little more than the cinematic equivalent of a trashy airport novel.
There are no mysteries in Rawson Marshall Thurber’s The Mysteries of Pittsburgh
Armed with a life-affirming mocha breve from Caffé Zingaro, I make my way to the subterranean blue battleship known as SIFF Cinema.
The film hinges on indulgent exposition, leaden metaphor, painful grade-school symbolism and cliché characterization.