Early on in this film, we see Tommy Lee Jones insert his hand into a cow's arse to retrieve a mobile phone. Jones up to his elbow in bullshit? It's an appropriate image, given the rest of the movie.
The plot is merely an excuse for the craggy one to do his patented humourless hard-man act opposite five hot young things, so no effort is made to tie up a story with more loose ends than a pom-pom.
Characters come and go with immense predictability but little purpose, while the film spends most of its time firmly focused on the cheerleaders' exposed midriffs.
There's no sense of danger from the supposedly ruthless killer, which must explain why Sharp's investigation has no sense of urgency. While he abandons his wounded partner and makes inept efforts to protect his charges, his distant relationship with his teenage daughter and blossoming romance with Anne Archer's lecturer barely make an impact.
There are some amusing moments and some good performances despite the poor material, but it's not enough. And Hollywood, take note: no film should ever include the sight of Tommy Lee Jones with a hair trimmer up his nose.