Forty Shades of Blue

Combining his passions of music, women and travel, illustrious blues producer Alan James (Torn) went to Moscow and came back with a pretty young girlfriend Laura (Korzun) and her three-year-old son Sam.

Alan is still a big noise in Memphis, but the old rogue can't help himself from allowing his eye and his attention to wander. Like one of his instruments, Laura feels cherished but replaceable.

Their game of unhappy families drifts into a new phase when Alan's estranged, unsmiling son Michael (Burrows) comes to stay. He empathises with Laura. They start an affair.

Following their first tryst, Laura lies inert as Alan grinds away on top of her. Then she bursts into tears, saying that Sam (aged 3, remember) needs the support of a father – or at least a father figure - at school.

Is this really the case - or is she feeling a mite guilty? Given her perpetual state of semi-catatonia, it's hard to tell and even harder to care.

Despite having a loving wife, Michael is equally morose and makes no effort to bridge the gap between himself and Alan.

Sachs and his cast have been applauded for presenting these self-absorbed misery-guts in such an unflattering light.

But while honesty is a virtue, the only moments of levity are provided by Laura's frank use of English as the film sucks everything into the emotional black hole at its centre.

It's a maudlin void from which there is no escape and the net effect makes Ken Loach look like Ken Dodd.

The music livens up proceedings but is too sparingly used, as are the moments when Torn unleashes Alan's old vim and vigour.

Mostly, though, he acts like the beardy middle brother of Tommy Lee Jones and Karl Childers, Billy Bob Thornton's character in Sling Blade.

Forty depressing Shades or forty refreshing winks? The choice is yours.

Elliott Noble