Movie Review: 'True Crime'
There comes a time in every man’s life when he realizes that there are things that he can’t, or shouldn’t, do. For Clint Eastwood, that time must’ve come somewhere around 4:20 a.m. — while he was fast asleep. Otherwise, he would’ve told himself to steer clear of True Crime, a woefully misconceived reporter-saves-innocent-man-from-execution cheese grater. He might have told himself that a near septuagenarian putting the moves on a 23-year-old colleague (Mary McCormack) is kinda revolting. And one can only hope he’d never have thought that doffing his shirt (shiver) would be a dandy idea. Clint, c’mon, man. Wake up.