Fanning is a child actor with a grown-up soul, and every move, every breath, seems mysteriously right.

In spite of a few missteps, the cumulative impact of the film is undeniable.

In the wake of the inadvertent betrayal that leads to her now-notorious rape (a sequence that, ironically, seems to have lost the horrific impact it needs), the film turns listless.

The film is responsible, earnest, well-intentioned and, as it was in Sundance, maddeningly inconsistent.

Pretty but overwrought, Hounddog doesn't deserve its infamy, nor does it merit being seen or remembered.

Assembled from the debris of countless worn-out images of the Deep South and is indeed beautifully photographed. But the writer-director, Deborah Kampmeier, has become inflamed by the imagery and trusts it as the material for a story, which seems grotesque and lurid.

A handsomely produced but unintentionally risible film that mistakes high grotesquerie for high gothic.

Hounddog is never more than a sluggish dawdle from shack to swimmin' hole and back again.

A failure on pretty much every level, Hounddog would never have been known beyond Park City had it not been for the notoriety surrounding the rape scene.

It was received at Sundance 2007 with a resounding thud. Not because of this controversial rape scene, but because, well, it just wasn't good. Unfortunately, even with over a year of rejiggering, it's still not good.

An indigestible gumbo of Southern Gothic ingredients seasoned with snake oil, biblical hash and thoroughly unpalatable spice.

Overall, director Deborah Kempmeir mistakes ominous and depressing for deep and meaningful, a misfire that undermines the effect it tries to achieve.

A bewildering slice of southern gothic hokum, it suffers from a weak script.

Fanning gives a sensitive and fairly impressive performance. But like her over-the-top movie family, Hounddog is still trailer trash of the worst kind.