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This movie takes the lighting conventions of noir and shines a bright light through a prism onto the entire world – colouring it in a psychedelic palette that boggles the mind even as it plays out before one’s eyes. Coupling a good old fashioned mystery (of a missing stripper, no less) with quantum physics and a cast of characters too kooky to be made up sober, The Big Bang plays pretty fast and loose with the genre’s conventions.

Antonio Banderas plays the detective hired to locate a missing stripper (Sienna Guillory) by an ex-con boxer (Robert Maillet) who became pen pals with her when he was serving time. The film begins with Banderas’s character sightless and in handcuffs telling his tale to three cops played by Delroy Lindo, William Fichtner and Thomas Kretschmann. As you can see, quite a cast (other players include Sam Elliot and Snoop Dogg).

This is the type of movie Sheldon Cooper, Leonard Hofstadter, Howard Wolowitz and Rajesh Koothrappali would play some kind of drinking game to. Possibly around the time Autumn Reeser explains an experiment attempting to approximate the original Big Bang to Banderas while engaging in enthusiastic coitus. This performance may not be quite on par with Naomi Watts’s defining moment in Mulholland Drive but it is definitely the high point (in terms of performance) of Ms Reeser’s career. Major demerits against Ms Guillory’s name for coying out in her own rendering of a part that clearly required less shyness than she exhibited.

The film features a veritable smorgasbord of accents clashing up against each other, what with Mr. Maillet’s pseudo-Russian attempting to make itself understood over Mr. Banderas’s Spanish drawl and several moments of unclarity when Mr. Kretchsmann is interrogating Mr. Banderas’s character with more than a hint of German-accented English.

All told, The Big Bang is an assisted-viewing kind of movie – the type of movie you watch when you’re stoned or drunk or just so darned tired that all the bad chroma keying and the lazy edits and the godawful dialogue doesn’t get in the way of killing 101 minutes.

It isn’t so-bad-it’s-good as much as it is so-weird-it’s-fun. I have done worse with my movie watching recently. Way, way worse.