Poolman

Chris Pine is usually a likable screen presence but he’s let down here by a flimsy script and over-indulgent direction -- which could have something to do with the co-screenwriter (Chris Pine) and the first-time director (er, Chris Pine).

I’m sure Pine meant well. He probably had a good idea and couldn’t execute it. An incredibly stoned person wouldn’t be able to decipher Poolman—and neither can a general audience.

It's fun! Yes, I was almost pushed to the edge a few times, but it's fun if you don't expect too much.

Surely, you hope, this turkey will eventually come to life. Surely, you think, with one eye glancing at the exit door, it will turn out to be about something. But all hopes are eclipsed by its idiotic, self-indulgent nothingness.

There's not a whole lot of plot to describe or even allude to, and I don't think "Poolman" is all that interested in what little there is.

Pine wisely avoids winks to the audience. But he whiffs at making the mystery especially gripping...

Very much in the Long Goodbye/Big Lebowski/Inherent Vice tradition of stoned L.A. mystery-solving.

Poolman hits the story beats found in any crime mystery with a few added random surprises.

Pine tries Atlmanesque overlapping dialogue, surreal-dream indulgences, love-letter shots of L.A., bleached noir strokes... and madcap Coen Bros. homages that are such comedic failures you’ll want to rename the movie Burn After Watching.

Poolman... does not have the luxury of being the funny type of bad&#59; it’s just altogether bad, an astounding misfire that plenty of talented people got roped into and then given absolutely nothing to work with, for an entertainment-free 100 minutes.