Dirty

Like the best pulp, though, it gets its hooks into you faster than you can start to wonder why you should possibly care about what happens to any of its despicable characters, and, before you know it, you’ve been pulled deep into its Dantean vision.

When the florid speeches of volcanic rage and frustration draw to a close - and when Collins and Gooding complete their acting exercises - we still have no clue who these men are and what sent them down their intersecting moral dark alleys.

As good as the leads and the supporting cast are, and as much action as gets packed into the film's relatively brief running time, none of it draws us in dramatically.

Cuba Gooding Jr. and Clifton Collins Jr. (excellent as Perry Smith in "Capote") habitually rise above their clichéd roles.

"Filthy" may have been a better title for Dirty. The rough language is not just pervasive, as the MPAA's R rating describes it, it's assaultive. The violence is not merely "strong," it's incessant, sadistic and broadly unbelievable.

The production values on Dirty are so painfully amateurish that it is often hard to determine what is happening. The cinematography is murky and shaky, the editing is dull and clumsy, and the sound recording isn't exactly pristine. Not that any of this matters when you have a script where every third word is scatological.

An excruciating indie knockoff of "Training Day."