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The story is tricky and convoluted, in a tidy movie-thriller sort of way in which you know exactly what's going to happen at every stage, from the dubious love interest to the contrived woman/child-in-jeopardy to the improbable unveiling of the serial killer. The actors gamely go along with even the silliest story elements, making us believe they believe it at least. But even that isn't quite enough to make this run-of-the-mill investigative mystery terribly involving. The only entertainment on offer is Eastwood himself, always watchable, and the mild enjoyment of unravelling the plot threads about five steps ahead of the characters. The blood/heart metaphors are laid on extremely thickly, as are some of the story's more ridiculous developments and a generally dry, witty tone that keeps us from really taking it seriously (as if we could). And the big finale almost reaches spoof levels of silliness. You could do worse. Much worse.