Oliver Stone directs Woody Harrelson, Juliette Lewis and Robert Downey Jnr in this tale of psycho lovers on the run and the media circus that feeds of them.

I first watched this amid a storm of tabloid condemnation, the first truest wave of Tarantinomania and reams of critical praise on the 12 inch portable telly of my childhood bedroom via a grainy pirate VHS. For a rabid Quentin fan, this diluted version of his original screenplay, was the first fumble for me – I could tell it was a turgid mess even then. Two decades later and a chance for a more mature me to reappraise it… No, still godawful. The schizophrenic filming style makes sense (the sitcom framing of Mallory’s home life or the random flashbacks to replay almost subliminal images of dying people before they realise their violent fates from mere moments earlier both have some incongruous power) but the frankly bipolar, and off their meds, acting cacophony does not. Downey Jnr does a wavering Mel Gibson impression, Tommy Lee Jones seems to have just carried on playing Two Face from career nadir Batman Forever and only a one note, but at least committed, Tom Sizemore delivers anything that can be called consistent or compelling. I get Stone’s loudspeaker spouted points about the media and violence but it really doesn’t seem as tangible a target as Wall Street or Vietnam nor as challenging for him as Talk Radio or presidencies proved. He even made a better pulpy QT style crime thriller in U-Turn a couple of years later. This remains a headache to plough through.

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