Metacritic reviews

Alas, the flimsy plot -- less a whodunit than an isn't-it-screamingly-obvious-that-that-guy-done-it! -- will have thriller fans singing the blues.

The type of film I would call eternally frustrating. Boasting a solid cast and an amazing look, the film is a mishmash of film noir, mystery and bluesy big band song and dance numbers that on a surface level play brilliantly.

The kind of film you can appreciate as an object, but not as a story. It's a lovingly souped-up incarnation of the film-noir look, contains well-staged and performed musical numbers, and has a lot of cigarettes, tough tootsies, bad guys and shadows. What it doesn't have is a story that pulls us along, or a hero who seems as compelling as some of the supporting characters.

The movie, drawn from Wallace King's adaptation of Glenn Stewart's play, drips with style, but it's all flourish and no reveal.

The main pitfall of modern noirs is that filmmakers get so caught up in the chiaroscuro lighting schemes and florid twists of dialogue and voiceover that they forget noir was about expressing more than just attitude and style.

The script is just all kinds of terrible. The characters are hollow mannequins telling a thin, depressing story that's less of a noir and more of a simple-minded bummer full of barely connected scenes and stunningly empty dialogue.

The film has its shallow pleasures, but once it becomes obvious that that's all Dark Streets has going for it, the affected performances and forced tough-guy speak stop feeling playful and start to become oppressive.

As a dancing chanteuse, Bijou Phillips gives it her all, which isn't enough, and a wooden Mann doesn't help, although Izabella Miko brings a modicum of unaffected charm to her role as the Other Woman.

Let no one ever say that Dark Streets doesn't have the perfect title. It may not be much more than a stylized regurgitation of creaky film-noir clichés and crime-fiction conventions … but its streets are undeniably dark.

Pretentious mess of a movie.