COPYCAT YARN TOO PROSAIC
the day’s mail been delivered, which is a matter of extreme concern to taxidermist Derby Milton (Michael Stuhlbarg), an ultra-weirdo with bottle-bottom glasses who’s expecting a very important parcel.
Short of spilling any spoilers, which would be numerous, it’s safe to say that the lack of a corpse is simply the first of many details that suggest that things are not as straightforward as they might have seemed at first; it almost goes without saying that the body count does not end with one.
Writer Patino no doubt had fun lining up all his ducks, the better to savour twisting their necks and plucking their feathers, and there are minor pleasures to be taken watching pros like Dern, Stuhlbarg, Malkovich and Oliver Platt, employ delayed reactions and well-practiced stares to milk maximum value out of the script’s surprise turns.
But thick-headed Dwayne and bubbly Cassandra, who dreams of being crowned Miss Cut Bank before leaving for Hollywood stardom, are dull characters, as is the latter’s stern father (Billy Bob Thornton).
Even more deleterious, however, is the by-the-numbers direction; especially with this sort of story, which has been done a thousand times before.
Stylistic flair and visual inventiveness are de rigueur, the only justification, in fact, for further exploits in this much-traversed field.
Shakman’s handling of it is strictly presentational, creating no special mood, atmosphere or character.
Some very good talent behind and before the camera has been put to quite ordinary use here. – Reuters/ Hollywood Reporter