A fascinating film, and one that I think in many ways had more weight than House of Games (which I enjoyed but found flat and relatively inert) and The Spanish Prisoner (which I loved as an intellectual exercise and a great use of Steve Martin, but didn't find much heart in.) Macy and Mantegna are excellent, both playing slightly against type; Deakins' cinematography is terrific; the exploration of identity and conspiracy are interesting without being heavy-handed; the final ten minutes an earned and somber gut-punch.

This is a rich text, and something I see myself revisiting much more than the rest of Mamet's work.

★★★★