Trust

Writer-director Brian DeCubellis hits on a sharp revelation here: For the average couple, real-life mysteries are less about nabbing killers and more about catching philanderers. He plays out Trust's mystery in rewind for viewers to figure out: Who's cheating on whom? Brooke and Owen each secretly have their doubts about the other's fidelity: Owen is getting mysterious texts and leaving in the middle of the night, and Brooke's client is like an Irish Pepé Le Pew, rubbing his swagger all over every woman who glances his way. Viewers play along, trying to figure out -- as the title suggests -- who to trust.

The enigmatic story keeps us guessing, but the reveals are less gasp and more nod. And while DeCubellis puts all of his slick, MTV-honed style in a shaker -- phenomenal music, impeccable makeup and wardrobe, appealing actors, sophisticated settings, and a fresh plot device -- it doesn't blend into a smooth cocktail. It's difficult to sympathize with any of the characters -- they're aspirational but not likable. Brooke and Owen's marriage is cold -- Justice and Daddario have zero chemistry -- so we don't have anything to measure their potential temptation against. Most viewers will be able to relate to the idea of being suspicious of the motives of attractive interlopers who seem all too interested in their partners, but why have Brooke and Owen earned each other's mistrust? The concept is more pessimistic than provocative. The movie is pushing a message of trust, but it's more likely to sow seeds of doubt into healthy relationships.