I've got a message for all you little partners out there: a man's got to know his limitations and apparently, Clint Eastwood doesn't. Read my lips: instead of making my day with a short, pithy film about goofy Southern people, Clint has gone off and made a boring epic (two-and-a-half hours) based on the book by John Berendt. From his past experience, Clint should have known better than anyone, choosing a way to begin, that's easy, it's choosing a way to end that's the difficult thing to do.

Now, I know what you're wondering, did Clint overdo it by a lot, or just a little? Well, to tell you the truth, in all the boredom, I forgot myself. Unfortunately, this is a story of Southern idiosyncrasies, guaranteed to dull your mind clean off. The question you have to ask yourself about surviving this film is this: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do you, punk?

Based on true events, the story is as follows: a writer, John Kelso (John Cusack) goes to Savannah, Georgia to write a story for "Town and Country" on a Christmas party hosted by one of Savannah's most prominent people, Jim Williams (Kevin Spacey). Seems like a simple task, except Jim ends up shooting his lover, Billy Hanson (Jude Law), setting off an investigation and forcing the town and its strange inhabitants to come to grips with all the things they know but won't talk about.

Certainly, there's a darkness inside of all of us, but Southerners seem to have the most idiotic ways of dealing with it. There's no question that in a film like this, about characters, there's nothing wrong with shooting, but the right people have to get shot. Following The Lady Chablis (who plays herself) around for what seems like an eternity is more than any person should have to take. Frankly, I have nothing nice to say about this film; that's for other critics. They can crawl and kiss ass and write the happy endings.