Was Pulitzer Prize winner (twice!!) Norman Mailer wise in not attempting another Director/Writer film role and sticking to non-fiction work like post WWII 'Armies of the Night' or anti-war themes after this flick? Well, considering he has yet to Direct and write filmography since, I'd guess he knew his own answer to that question. For me and Stephen Thanabalan in film class, it's unsurprising given that this film is almost an unintentionally black humored outing with a cloying cast and a satiating fustian plot in a pointless beach side dansant in the acrid Provincetown cold. The film basically confounded itself and failed to capitalize on what was essentially a decent macabre tale that fettered Arthur Penn/ of greed, debauchery and betrayal- ingredients of what might have been a decent film-noir if coherently edited and as such, cannot count itself so. The film's main problem: it lacks class. In all departments- acting; macho-romantic-80s soft focus camera-work; acting (even hiring Isabella Rossellini couldn't save this one); plot twists; acting.Oddly enough, there was something crabby and yet alluring about this awful Norman Mailer outing by the beach as the waves crashed onshore. It dealt pretty much with subject matter Quentin Tarantino might have on an average film day: coke; porn starlets; depressed lead character on a vigilante road; warped sheriff; tattooist bums; gold-diggers; crooked priest; characters taking a crack at the rich; playboys shooting each other in the head (literally too!) and you get the idea. It could have been crazed film-noir but in the end it was just cheesily pretentious melodramatics- only thing is somehow I did not switch it off to see how low a man of Mailer's reputation would let it sink.