MICK MIDDLES

Teetering on the edge of breakdown, Spun is a twitchy, disjointed and, mercifully, hilarious cycle of drug delirium and high anxiety. At last we find a film that makes Human Traffic seem like Last of the Summer Wine.

It begins in claustrophobic manner, with a quaint cross section of America's brain scorched youth, sloping about a drug dealers shanty-like dwelling. In such squalor we find a spot-ravaged computer gaming nerd, a young rookie, nave to everyday exposure to extreme violence and, central to everything, bug eyed, hyper Brittany Murphy, who, fresh from her exploits with Eminen in 8 Mile, adds the sexual spark...and a great deal more.

For a full 12 minutes of pre-title footage, the film remains locked in this apartment, while the drug dealer owner searches frantically for his lost stash.

The link with the outside world is supplied by Murphy's phone call to her fearsome, insane, sexually driven drug concocting boyfriend, 'The Cook', - Mickey Rourke - who stalks this film with lecherous intent. Irony sits in every frame and in it's lowest possible form.

The Cook boasts about his sexual prowess and yet relies on porno, phone sex and prostitutes despite having the delectable Murphy pouting provocatively in his living room.

The story takes an increasingly frantic drive around sub-blue collar America, with the deranged character's competing for neurotic supremacy. As time passes, even the viewer attains a certain edginess which is offset only by a script that defies belief.

This is hardcore comedy. Even the sex is pushed into a level of unlikely absurdity. Likewise, the violence is disturbingly cartoon-like. One poor chap gets two good hidings in the same shop, firstly by The Cook and later, bizarrely, by a beautifully cast Debbie Harry.

Mirroring her Blondie persona, she surveys the spread of paranoiac youth in a state of murderous envy.

American culture, and its increasingly shallow values, is duly lampooned. There are gloriously surreal moments, too, when the drug intake becomes all too much and, combined with lack of sleep, send the whole sorry tale spinning into ludicrous and unexpected avenues of animation.

At various times, it is genuinely difficult to know whether to laugh or cry.

Extraordinary, excessive and brilliantly woven together by Jonas Akerland's strikingly intelligent direction.