That ficklest of industries in that ficklest of towns. And this ficklest of films. I suppose when you have that much money, and when the skies are that blue and the air that warm, you can afford to change your mind. Is it any wonder so many films set in L.A. span only a mere few days? Anything left to sit and stew too long there will dry up and turn to dust. Clark Gregg's Trust Me seems to change its mind as it heads into its final third, a diversion which actually feels like it occurs sooner - Gregg languishes too long on too many moments, which means the film takes an age to get to where it intends to be, and only feels like it's getting properly started by the time the hour mark has been reached. It doesn't feel like a slog, mind, since Gregg keeps a flippant buoyancy in the tone, and the film is strewn through with sporadic bursts of brightness. The 'twist' that is subsequently employed is heavily foreshadowed, but mostly in comedic context, which seems to somewhat contest the existence of a darker side to Trust Me. And though that makes for a muddled film, at least it can be interpreted as ambiguous and emotionally complex, unlike the disappointingly clear-cut attitude it eventually adopts. A climactic reveal does precisely what the worst reveals do, which is to essentially nullify the impact of all that has preceded it, rather than enhance it. It confirms Gregg's cynicism regarding the Hollywood film industry, and justifiably so, but that's a jadedness that he is better at expressing than reflecting, which is ultimately too big a load for such a lightweight film to bear. Visually cheap if competent, the film is at least smartly acted, and the script appropriately actor-centric; sweet-natured jibes at Hollywood, however, are poorly written.
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