He may embody diabolical craft and exalted evil on the screen, but behind the camera Kevin Spacey is no Keyser Soze. His debut film is that kind of derivative noir whose forced efforts at originality underscore its banality and pretentiousness. In yet another variation of the heist-gone-awry scenario, Matt Dillon, Gary Sinise, and William Fichtner make up an inept trio who, fleeing a botched robbery attempt, unwittingly trip up a federal stakeout, are mistaken for gun-runners, and are compelled to take hostage the denizens of the ratty Southern watering hole of the title. Among those within are Faye Dunaway as the faded barmaid, flavor-of-the-month Skeet Ulrich as a hapless stripling, M. Emmet Walsh as an old coot, and Viggo Mortensen as the Mystery Guest. You'd think such a diverse and talented ensemble would come up with some moments of genuine feeling, but what follows is a psychodrama of mounting absurdity and dullness. The SWAT team should have spared the hostages watching this pointless inanity by crashing the party a lot earlier.