Who’d have thought the murky underworld of Australian poetry readings was so fraught with mortal danger and steamy lesbian sex? After Samantha Lang’s pretentious murder mystery, I’m still unconvinced. Susie Porter does bring a certain spunk to her role as a tough-minded private eye who, in her quest to uncover the mystery of a murdered girl, is seduced by the victim’s American-lit professor (older, nuder Kelly McGillis) and ends up gettin’ it on with her when she should be solving the crime. But Lang’s attempt to juxtapose Eros and Thanatos is too heavy-handed, and the film drags interminably with minimal suspense.

It’s made even harder to take by its self-satisfied " literary " aims. The victim was known for penning Plathitudes like " I’m just a cunt. Your cock has all the words. You pump them into me ’til I can’t stand up. " Such lines are only slightly more risible than Porter’s intoned voiceover narration, which keeps threatening to break into rhymed cadences. Lang does have a good feel for atmosphere and a keen eye for mise-en-scène; the film is beautifully shot. But that can’t save what at heart is just a tepid and torpid thriller done in by its own pseudo-profound poetic ramblings.