This is modern, skeleton Noir. Within that framework, it is certainly viewable, with Tilly a standout as the femme fatal. In monochrome color, first-person narrative flashback, a jazzy soundtrack, interesting camerawork, and betrayal themes, it appears as a true genre piece. Unfortunately, the script plus the filmmakers' glint toward Schwarzenegger-like action, ruin any dark ambiance they establish. It's all here: the tough but soft-hearted hero, viperous femme, over-the-top bad guy, the black sidekick slated for torture/death. And it all rapidly blows away like gunsmoke during the cartoonish shootouts.
Madsen is in typical Rourke-mode, but with a little more compassion squinting his eyes. Tilly is all whiskey-throated slur as Rina and little-girl whine as Cathy. The movie definitely needs more of Rina, because, with the exception of Busey's Wild Man, she's the cast's only interest. The giveaway is in the prologue, where, in sepia-tone, slow-mo, and voice-over narrative, Madsen labors his death scene, blazing away with dual, silver-toned guns and a monotone from a mortally-wounded script. Ultimately, it boils down to the bullets and body count, without enough desperation or resignation to warrant the blood.
