There are some writers who seem to think if they quote Shakespeare and Herman Melville within their own work, they might automatically be regarded as possessing a higher level of intellect - not so, and Mojave offers a reasonable example as proof. Here we have writer/director William Monahan (The Departed) doing just this in a rather lame attempt to dress up his lowly 'character' study about a suicidal 'artist' (why suicidal? because he has success and luxury laid on, a loving wife and delightful young daughter who idolizes him) I ask, what better reason could you have for wanting to commit suicide?. Borrowing a leaf from the Travers character in Paris Texas our 'artist' wanders into tho desert to explore how many ways he can kill himself. Failing at several, he appears to settle on drinking himself to death.
While still in the desert he meets another equally disturbed fellow who is obviously quite happy to do him in. Instead of excepting the offer, our suicide contender suddenly decides he won't allow this and begins looking at ways of murdering this chap - another perfectly reasonable idea! The ensuing cat and mouse game goes on interminably, with each man sprouting endless expletives & pseudo-psycho-babble as they attempt to kill each other...as well as any innocent by-standers who just happen to get in their way.
All this might sound most interesting to those who enjoy Tarantino type nonsense but, any thinking viewer might beware. Is there anything that's good in all this?. The desert is well photographed, Oscar Isaac and Garrett Hedlund are occasionally OK in the leads and some bits of the score music by UK born Andrew Hewitt are quite interesting. As for the supporting cast, Walton Goggins' character is so bad it's laughable, as is Mark Walberg's foul mouthed sex obsessed producer.
Cultists may enjoy the over-the-top foolishness but this is supposed to be a dramatic modern classic!. Next thing to down right awful nastiness.
