Everything wonderful about this film gets flushed down the noir toilet. Brilliant actors (Paltrow, Jackson, Reilly) all portraying stupidity with the just right flickering wattage. The beautiful old hood (a ronin or samurai type) who can't provide the brains for the kids he loves, no matter how hard he tries. Visuals of fine, pure simplicity within ambience that causes me to remember remarkable this-is-it Italian film experiences of the mid-century. And the point is? Aye, there's the rub. Can't quite find the essential human spirit in the story. Too many sordid details distract? Tragic stupidity too deep a hole to climb out of?
Review of Hard Eight
