This is is a thoroughly unpleasant, if slickly made, movie. I tried it because it stars Richard Dreyfus and Jeff Goldblum, two good actors, and because the plot line - a mob boss is about to be released from a mental institution - sounded promising. The movie is billed as a comedy, sorta. What we have is an endless series of shots - you should pardon the pun - of people in dimly lit and elegant, if somewhat surreal, interiors, shooting each other - in the head, stomach, kneecap, foot, heart (no part of the anatomy is avoided, it seems) while uttering vague and cryptic dialogue, some of which is supposed, evidently, to be humorous in a sort of post-modern way. Goldblum's dialogue for the whole movie could fit on a 3x5 card, and he wears a single facial expression - a sardonic grin - throughout. Ellen Barkin and Gregory Hines do the best they can. Burt Reynolds does a cameo. The credits list Rob Reiner and Joey Bishop, but I somehow missed them (good move on their part). The whole thing is cold, sterile, mechanical and unsavory; an heir, I suspect, to the style of 'Pulp Fiction', 'Fargo' and 'Natural Born Killers'. If you liked those, you'll probably like this.