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There’s no doubt an abundance of talent went into making Texas Killing Fields. This sophomore effort from director Ami Canaan Mann—daughter of Michael Mann, who executive produces here—takes a strong cast doing fine character work and combines them with moody atmosphere and some deft compositions to create a movie that looks gorgeous. It’s unfortunate that a muddled story that never rises above the level of a TV police procedural manages to hamstring it.
As with so much of the TV fare it emulates, this one is inspired by a true story, following two detectives investigating the murder of an underage prostitute in a small Texas community. Detective Heigh (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) is a transplant from New York and a family man who tends to get too invested in his cases, while his partner, Detective Souder (Sam Worthington), is a local boy and recent divorcee with more knowledge of the community’s seedier side than he’d like. As their case progresses, they discover disturbing connections to both a local serial killer and a local girl (Chloe Moretz) who may become his next target.
Working in the genre most associated with her father, Mann does the family name proud in terms of character and tone. It’s a quiet and deliberately paced film that takes some time to live with its characters and get a feel for their environment, from the run-down trailer parks to the desolate marsh that gives the film its title.
Morgan and Worthington both play roles they’re familiar in, but they do so well enough that they make it a strength. They’re backed up by quality performances by Moretz and a feisty Jessica Chastain playing Souder’s ex-wife, a detective from a nearby jurisdiction. Moretz continues to impress, here playing a mostly silent teenager who somehow wears every disappointment the world has heaped on her without seeming completely broken.
It’s a shame that these pieces never come together into a truly memorable film. The plot manages to be both hazily constructed and somewhat predictable. There are car chases, double crosses, and confrontations of good versus evil, but they seldom seem to carry much weight. It’s easy to spot the primary villain at his first appearance, and a much more interesting secondary villain gets less development than he deserves.
That lack of a compelling story robs Texas Killing Fields of a lot of potential, and the striking imagery and performances just aren’t enough to compensate. While I’d like to recommend it for all of the things in manages to get right—and the worthy individual contributions from several of those involved—it commits a cardinal sin in the genre: it never quite gets around to getting interesting.
