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Following in the bloodstains of Very Bad Things, Doug Liman's latest is a three-hander, concerned, if at all, with survival. Pissed-off drug dealer on your tail? Wounded strip club bouncer, complete with mad dad, out to kill you? Dodgy cop, who has designs in the trouser department, wants favours for your freedom? Go, man, go!

Each story interacts in an arbitrary way. The humour is fast, the car chases hairy, the characters way wicked, the venues seedy, the fun accident prone, the sex tantric and the chance of living until tomorrow slim. John August's screenplay fairly burns rubber. Casually dubbed a sex-drugs-and-rave-till-you-cave flick, it is more attuned to an oops-sorry-don't-shoot-me scenario, involving not-quite-cool-enough innocents going flat to the floor in dangerous situations.

Sarah Polley's supermarket checkout girl, who needs cash for rent and blows a drugs deal, is a courageous and tragic figure. Desmond Askew, as a randy Brit on a weekend blast in Casino City with mates, is up for it. Jay Mohr and Scott Wolf, as TV soap stars in a real life sting, involving William Fichtner's undercover dick, hit the panic button early and jabber. Liman's debut was the glorious Swingers. This is an admirable follow up. He seems to be plugged into a youth culture that has stretched beyond naive aspiration and settled for petty criminal activities.