The first fifteen minutes of this TV-style murder mystery are so self-importantly humble and earthy that I had little hope for the remainder. Apart from occasionally looking self- consciously saint-like, Casey Affleck performs well as a very unlikely PI; his partner (Michele Monaghan) is so badly characterised and plotted that she's mostly a waste of space. However, she's a lot more subtle a performer than most in this overblown mess of grittiness. Ed Harris has never been so bad; Morgan Freeman is given a ludicrous part, made to intone great speeches, and doesn't convince for a moment. Nevertheless, amongst the rampant phoniness, working-class atmosphere laid on with a trowel, stupid plot and pretentious dialogue, there are some nice touches, strong melodramatic scenes, and a satisfying ending, but it seems that murder mysteries nowadays always have to be about mega-depraved scumbags. Why are the bourgeoisie so obsessed with fake low-life? Rhetorical question.