Emaciated metalworker Trevor Reznik (Bale) is falling apart. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep and someone is playing Hangman on his fridge Post-It notes. And who’s the big guy in the red sports car keeping tabs on him? Now, with a dead body on his hands, it’s time for Trevor to face up to reality, wherever that is…
It looks and feels the business, both in Bale's bone-bag of a body and the morphine-dosed-Kubrick vibe, but it's more a tightly wrought slither through pastures old than fresh investigation into the claws of madness.
Reviewed by Ian Nathan
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