Clint has clearly settled into a languid pacing rut, because Midnight
is an interesting, engaging character piece marred only by an arduous
length that stretches attention to breaking point. Kevin Spacey is the
gay southerner accused of killing his white-trash live-in lover, Jude
Law. John Cusack is the writer in town to find a story who becomes
embroiled in the voodoo tinged goings-on. The cast are uniformly good
if a little tepid, with only Law making an impression as the cocky
guttersnipe. Eastwood lets everything unfold and breathe, which
encourages good characterisation but suffocates the tension that
could have made this terrific.
