Where the Truth Lies

When a maid turns up dead in the hotel room of zany '50s double-act Lanny Morris (Bacon) and Vince Collins (Firth), it marks the beginning of the end of the pair's career together. Although never accused of the crime, the murder comes back to haunt them 15 years later when an ambitious young journalist (Lohman), writing a biography on the duo, attempts to uncover the sordid secret of what really happened that night. This who-dunnit thriller never finds its feet as it lacks three special ingredients that make a film work: a cohesive plot, good acting and general interest. Indie director Egoyan constantly jumps from the '50s to the '70s and back again in an attempt to piece together the answers and heighten the tension when in fact it's more obstructive than constructive, as no character is given enough time to be fleshed out. Bacon, who has picked very eclectic roles of late, simply seems bored and hangs around for the movie to end (although he boasts a great Tom Waits-esque voice) while the very limited acting talents of Lohman give the film a very unprofessional feel. The stand-out, surprisingly, is Colin Firth. Playing against type, Firth's terribly English accent is still present but in Vince Collins - a pill-popping, foul-mouthed and violent crooner - Firth visibly enjoys himself and revels in a new skin that could very well be a new direction. Overall, though, Where the Truth Lies is a B-movie plot and smacks of an extended Murder She Wrote episode.