Despite its gestures toward nuance, the very broadness of the dichotomies in the film prove to be its undoing.
Craig Johnson’s film lurches from poignant melancholy to cartoonish slapstick, unable to settle on a consistent tone.
Hossein Amini’s sequences are engineered for narrative efficiency, often at the expense of thematic or affectual aims
In the end, it’s relentless shoulder-shrugging pessimism more than misguided quirk that sinks the project.
Amid this shallow, vulgar morass of cultural stereotypes and racial epithets, Paul Walker reconfirms his status as filmdom’s preeminent hunky cipher.
What a curious thing it is to listen to a man read from the pages of Rebecca Miller’s female-empowering Personal Velocity.