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The bastard child of Pulp Fiction and a constant reminder that Roger Avary bears little responsibility for the success of Quentin Tarantino's films, this blood-splatterred heist movie tells a pretty simple (and stupid) story: Eric Stoltz flies to Paris, beds a hooker (Julie Delpy), gets stoned, robs a bank, and finds the hooker working there (who messes up the bank heist). The end! Thank God!
Delpy and Stoltz are the only tolerable parts of Avary's chaotic and totally pointless mess, and that hardly makes this worth watching. At least while you're sober, that is.
