25% of this movie is a closeup of Stephen McHattie's face while he murmurs about something unimportant, slowly.

Venerable Canuck director Bruce McDonald returns to the big screen with a strange, all you can watch cinema buffet of cult-aspiring dishes best presented as a main course. As a series of small, TV sized bites, this might work, but it becomes quite a muddle as a single entity.<br/><br/>The good: Stephen McHattie. Not surprisingly, McHattie shines in a dual role tour de force of endless crackly Clint Eastwood close ups, and tough guy bad assery.<br/><br/>The bad: Dual roles are never a good idea. It is disruptive, and proves way too clever for it&#39;s own good.<br/><br/>More bad: Juliette Lewis, who can be fabulously sensational, is fabulously awful, giddily embracing a despicable role in a volcanic spew of boorish overacting.<br/><br/>There&#39;s more. The list is long. Too long. We have Henry Rollins raging. We have a child sex ring. We have a silly vampire. We have a mess.<br/><br/>Brimming with taboo subjects, theatrical violence, absurdist sequences, nightclub lighting, an endless stream of odd characters, &quot;Dreamland&quot; is a prickly stab at &quot;Twin Peaks&quot; cultdom. McHattie almost pulls it off, with a performance for the ages that includes a bizarro Chet Baker impersonation. But it&#39;s not enough. What McDonald is trying to achieve here is anyone&#39;s guess, so here goes. How about an insider&#39;s heroin trip? Let&#39;s go with that.<br/><br/><ul><li>hipCRANK</li></ul>

This is an odd movie that doesnt make a lot of sense and is VERY VERY talkie.<br/><br/>You wait for the payoff, but it&#39;s so slow coming that it begins to not matter.<br/><br/>It&#39;s directed like one o f those handful of artsy porn movies (Nightdreams, et.al.) from the late 70&#39;s /early &#39;80s. But without the porn that made them interesting.