Too Late

With "Too Late," Hauck confirms that he's a master of the film medium. What's less convincing is why this film matters.

A stylized blend of classic film noir and New Hollywood pulp, this remarkable debut feature may grate on mainstream viewers with its affected drama and offbeat pacing, but cinephiles will be charmed.

Almost any scene with Hawkes is alive and satisfyingly showy. You feel his absence when he isn't there, though Joanna Cassidy, Crystal Reed and Robert Forster all have their moments.

The puzzle pieces of Hauck's brain-teaser don't always come together perfectly, but there's no denying it's infectious fun.

While it can be frustrating to see some filmmakers dash off copies of other movies, it's deeply enjoyable to find one who so appreciates his inspirations.

The hyperverbal screenplay quickly grows tiresome, from the sub-"Pulp Fiction" prattle of two drug dealers (Dash Mihok and Rider Strong) to one act after another in which desperate women are preyed upon or saved by the men around them.

Too Late is a throwback to indie films of the 1990s that we don't see often anymore and that alone is enough to recommend it.

Dennis Hauck's noir drama Too Late works better as a stylistic exercise than as absorbing drama, though a soulful performance by John Hawkes carries it pretty far.

It's all so random and cheeky that it's a type of perverse fun.

John Hawkes is immaculate as Sampson as Too Late effectively injects the viewer into a fictional reality that feels genuine and is the one place on earth where cigarette smoking sleuthing in a tattered Thunderbird is as cool as it gets.

This thing is mildly tasty, but no one will say it's organic.

It might get a little smug and a wee bit pretentious, but Too Late is never less than impressive.