A true stinker. Edmond, written by the usually dependable David Mamet and directed by Re-Aninmator mastermind Stuart Gordon, tells the story of a disgruntled middle age white businessman (William H. Macy) and his decent into madness. His main reason; bored with his life. Edmond feels like Falling Down on mescaline, the pacing and rhythm toned down to an almost droll standstill. Filled with whiney diatribes attempting to reveal the true nature of white fear in regards to race, sexuality, and class, Edmond is whishy washy at best. No tension, no edgy style, blatantly wordy stabs at importance. We see Edmond’s impotent attempt to regain excitement, a flicker of light in his life, long ago extinguished by corporate responsibility and suburban mentalities. The final sequence stands alone in terms of merit, Edmond finally realizing his own loss of control and inability to dictate life on his own terms, but far too late in the process to save such a pretenious example of art imitating life imitating crap.