Kiefer Sutherland's directorial debut is a poorly written, poorly directed little caper film that offers little of interest beyond its lack of shame in plundering the work of Quentin Tarantino. Within Truth Or Consequences, N.M.'s first half hour, the film steals dialogue, scenes and characters from not just True Romance, Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs, but also from From Dusk Till Dawn. (It does refrain from stealing from Four Rooms, though that's little consolation.) A painfully subdued Vincent Gallo stars as an ex-convict who gets out of jail and plots to rob his mobster boss with the help of fellow ex-con Sutherland and sassy homeboy Mykelti Williamson (who, as is fitting for the only member of the gang without ugly facial hair, turns out to be an undercover FBI agent). Things go wrong from the get-go, of course, as Sutherland turns out to be a prototypically trigger-happy psycho. The three dim-witted hoods and Gallo's pregnant girlfriend soon take seemingly normal insurance agent Kevin Pollack and his mate hostage; they then drive across the country in a Winnebago, unaware that they're being hunted by both the mob and the FBI. Soon, a crew-cut Martin Sheen, channeling the spirit of Christopher Walken as an ice-cold hitman, is sent to kill them, but not before the boys accidentally kill powerful mob boss Rod Steiger, and Pollack slowly turns into a gun-crazy superfreak. Witless, needlessly violent and overwhelmingly derivative, Truth Or Consequences, N.M. is an appalling waste of time.
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