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'Where The Truth Lies': Postmortem on a lounge act

Years from now, doctoral theses will still be written postulating what it was that drew Canadian arthouse director Atom Egoyan (The Sweet Hereafter, Ararat) to take on Rupert Holmes' trashy showbiz roman a clef, Where The Truth Lies, and turn it into a glossy but vacant piece of eye candy that earned it an NC-17 rating.

ThinkFilm 'Where The Truth Lies' C+ The verdict: A 'cinema a clef,' full of empty promise and lots of sex. Director: Atom Egoyan Starring: Kevin Bacon, Colin Firth, Alison Lohman, Rachel Blanchard, David Hayman Run time: 106 minutes Release date: Oct. 14, 2005 Rating: Not rated; NC-17 rating declined. Includes sexual situations, nudity, language, violence, drug use. See showtimes On the web Official movie site View the trailer    Trailers require Quicktime Rate 'Where The Truth Lies'   Go see it   Make it a matinee   Wait to rent   Don't bother Voter Limit: Once per Hour View Poll Results

Like the staff trying to figure out what Rosebud meant to Charles Foster Kane, a perky young writer named Karen O'Connor (Alison Lohman) is intent on finding out why the popular nightclub act of Lanny Morris (Kevin Bacon) and Vince Collins (Colin Firth) — dead ringers for Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin — abruptly broke up their partnership at its height some 15 years earlier.

True, there was that incident in which a beautiful young hotel employee (Rachel Blanchard) was found naked and dead in the bathtub of the guys' suite, but they were cleared of all charges. No, Karen figures, there has to be more to the story of their breakup, and if she has to sleep with either or both of them to get the answer, so be it.

And sleuthing she goes, in a film that loves flackbacks and other non-linear storytelling devices, lots of voiceover narration and multiple point of views in a '70s version of hard-boiled film noir, but in the California sunshine.

Bacon and Firth make an entertaining team. We get only snippets of their nightclub act, and the disappointment is palpable when the camera cuts away from them.

Surely, there is room in the movie marketplace for a smart, challenging expose of the Hollywood scene, crossed with a murder mystery and a healthy amount of skin, isn't there? Maybe that is what Egoyan was after, but the only thing he got right is the skin part.