A breathtaking exercise in the macabre, a gruesome thriller with quirky cops and a killer of Lecterian complexity, and even when the movie is perfect nonsense, it's so voluptuous that you're grateful to be watching it anyway.

The Crimson Rivers could teach many an American thriller a thing or two about sophisticated creepiness.

Does not end well. But there's a lot of pleasure in getting there.

Kassovitz keeps the film zipping along with solid pacing and just enough action to clear the credibility gaps as long as the film is rolling.

More amiably mindless summer distraction than just about anything Hollywood has to offer this season.

A confusing and not entirely believable ending clouds the issue, though, burying some fine performances and cinematography under an avalanche of gore and plot twists.

For most of its running time, this lunatic euro-thriller is creepy, stylish and occasionally suspenseful.

Never lacks for energy, and the director and his stars stride with focused confidence through the hooey.

Glossy, gruesome police drama.

Adequately entertaining but not particularly memorable.

Wants to be about life, death and the red liquid that flows beneath our skin. It ends up being more about stage blood and stupid plot tricks.

Dull and unpleasant.

Two things make this film slightly more interesting than its American B-movie equivalents. There's the artless way it shows the French state exercising its power and the charisma of French stars.

Never lets up: A door can't shut without sounding like a bomb going off; mutilated bodies show up with clockwork punctuality, gratuitously underscored by a relentlessly overbearing soundtrack.