text: By far the most important requirement for any film following confidence tricksters is that they must, at least occasionally, be able to pull one over on us, as well as their dumb-witted marks, the cops, the mob and (ideally) each other. But this film NEVER pulls this off. Every scam can be seen coming a mile off (especially the biggen!) Neither are they very interesting, intricate or sophisticated. Perhaps Mammet hoped to compensate for this with snappy dialogue and complex psychological relationships. If so, he failed. The lines are alright, but they're delivered in such a stilted, unnatural, stylised way that I thought perhaps some clever point was being made about us all acting all the time... but it wasn't. As for the psychological complexity, the main character's a bit repressed and makes some ridiculously forced freudian slips about her father thinking she's a whore, but she gets over it. I really liked the street scenes though. Looked just like an Edward Hopper painting.