Then there’s Cusack, inexplicably lurking about in black ninja pajamas (or as Vic puts it, “looking like a Metallica roadie”), as if that’s going to somehow blend in with the sylvan settings.
For a while, “Blood Money” is like watching adenoidal tweens re-enact “Double Indemnity” it’s fun, but pretty silly. As written and played here, Lynn is a tantrum-prone juvenile princess not greatly assisted by two male besties who aren’t so mature either, and who apparently never glimpsed her femme fatale potential despite lifelong alliance. This sort of thing worked better when it was played by the likes of Lizbeth Scott or Gloria Grahame, who might’ve been young themselves at the time but were already palpably adults capable of embodying pulp-fiction Machiavellian deceit. As in noirs of yore, this hitherto ordinary all-American lass immediately develops blinding, mercenary dollar signs in her eyes upon glimpsing a potential major personal gain, and is soon willing to sacrifice anyone in her path. He lands in one place, they in another - on a riverbank, where Lynn happens to find them on her morning run after a night of drunken three-way arguments. Meanwhile, white-collar embezzler Miller (Cusack) is fleeing authorities via the small plane he abandons to crash in the forest as he parachutes down with four heavy duffel bags of loot.
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