The popular notion of the clever, crafty criminal takes a serious hit in thisdarkly humorous, erotically charged, offhandedly postmodern, ultimately terrifying tale - as viewed through the eyes of seven highly unreliable narrators - of a hypothetical crime that is very likely nothing more than a shared delusion. Although in their favor, and despite their various pathologies, each participant, in his or her own peculiar way, does appear genuinely committed to the forward momentum of the story. What begins as a fairly straightforward kidnapping-for-profit scheme quickly degenerates into an absurd comedy of confusion, shattered loyalties, out-of-control suspicion and finally a seemingly inescapable chaos. The players appear to spend an inordinate amount of time in their cars, driving to a rendezvous in a forest that, according to all available evidence, doesn't actually exist. Once inside this imaginary forest, from which there is no possible exit, the usually reliable concepts of language, identity, space/time, existence itself, begin to dissolve. Ghosts congregate in the trees, observing the action; their presence a painful reminder of how easily one's so-called humanity can be peeled away, revealing the less savory creatures lurking within. The moral to this tale, aside from the obvious crime doesn't pay , is perhaps this: If it's a fun-filled, get-rich-quick, nothing but happy endings picnic in the park you're after, a black hole masquerading as a rapidly-rotating spiral vortex is probably not your best choice of venue.