The Sunset Limited

Tommy Lee Jones masterfully directs Cormac McCarthy's ferocious two-man play.

Grim, but a chance to see two magnificent actors at the peak of their powers.

There are times when the sheer force of Jones' personality undercuts his ability to be convincing as the voice of existential despair. But at the end, when he throws that force behind his final assault, his performance all makes sense. And it makes the final scenes, as Jackson's ebulliently portrayed confidence begins to crack, all the more shattering.

HBO's The Sunset Limited--faithfully adapted from Cormac McCarthy's 2006 play and directed by its co-star, Tommy Lee Jones--more than overcomes the challenge of getting a satisfying piece of theater to work on a TV screen.

Sunset Limited requires considerable engagement, an assignment made easier by the superb performances of Jackson and Jones. Their verbal sparring may not be a reason to live, but it's sure a good reason to watch this production.

Viewers turned off by the bitterly boisterous, superficial and often one-sided confrontations on the cable news channels might find The Sunset Limited to be refreshing in some ways.

"Thought-provoking" is an overused term in criticism, and one that can camouflage many sins. But here, for better and worse, is the real deal.

The exercise isn't entirely successful, but still proves eminently watchable, indeed almost hypnotic--something only HBO, frankly, would likely bring to the screen in such cerebral, uncompromising form.

Granted, the acting in this two-man play is brilliant, but the film itself is strictly for master thespians on the loose--and people who are desperate to get into restaurants that won't take their reservations.

I imagine it is a challenging acting exercise and a fascinating debate. But like Jones' character, I just can't bring myself to care.

Everyone involved with this production obviously meant well--this TV movie doesn't have a cruel or ignorant moment--but good intentions aren't enough.

The two actors do everything they can to make [it] a tolerable situation, but they can never entirely distract us from the fact that they're trapped in Mr. McCarthy's dorm-room argument masquerading as a drama.

You say potato, I say dramatic arsenic. This actors' exercise is what it's like finding yourself trapped in a pretentious, self-important off-Broadway "experience," wishing you'd chosen to go to a movie or stay home with TV instead.