text: The beginning of the 90s brought many "quirky" and "off-beat" independent films, a particular sub-genre of which is the semi-spiritual desert crime movie. Others of note are "Wild at Heart", "From Dusk Til Dawn", and to a certain extent "Natural Born Killers". Good films like those spawned junk like "Highway 666", "Destiny Turns on the Radio" and this ineptly surreal anti-masterpiece "Under The Hula Moon". It's a comedy that aims for a certain emotional tone, attains it, but keeps going to the point of irritation. While the pursuit across the spirit-world of the desert and the casting of Chris Penn are good ideas, the film is not dirty enough or hard enough to be a good crime movie, and isn't focused enough on laughs to really be a comedy. I won't blow the ending, but let's just say it's bad. The film is basically a bad side effect of genre-cancer. This is the dregs of indie-mania.