Arkansas

Remember the late 1990s, when the cinematic landscape was flooded with Pulp Fiction knockoffs and wannabes? Carrying a violent collection of scoundrels and weirdos, the crime comedy Arkansas feels like a refugee from that era, channeling Tarantino through a hillbilly lens.

This self-deprecating love letter to the Natural State comes from one of its own, actor-turned-director Clark Duke, who flashes potential behind the camera with a debut in which his ambition ultimately outweighs execution.

At its core, the film is an uneven buddy comedy overstuffed with brooding and macho posturing. Kyle (Liam Hemsworth) and Swin (Duke) have never met their boss, a reclusive Arkansas drug kingpin nicknamed Frog (Vince Vaughn).

In his sprawling criminal enterprise, they assume roles as park rangers while moonlighting as narcotics couriers for one of Frog’s top associates (a scene-stealing John Malkovich). While they begin a side investigation into Frog’s identity, Swin becomes distracted by the flirtatious Johnna (Eden Brolin).

In this world of dishonor among thieves, it seems everyone is scheming for some kind of hustle or score, with a gun on their hip and a gang of henchmen on standby.

Tension simmers as the action funnels toward an inevitable final showdown. Kyle and Swin are destined to intersect with the greedy and quick-tempered Frog, whose assumptions about betrayal fuel a ruthless attitude toward retaliation.

Poking fun at a broad target, Arkansas playfully embraces the redneck reputation of its home state. Eccentricities come with the territory, such as the soundtrack peppered with offbeat country covers.

With its jumbled narrative structure and shifting perspectives, the screenplay by Duke and fellow rookie Andrew Boonkrong manages some scattered big laughs but struggles to find much depth beneath its surface quirks. Many of these periphery roles feel like variations of characters we’ve seen before.

Hemsworth and Duke generate an amusing odd-couple chemistry as characters who are each smarter and savvier than they first appear. They’re probably the most scrupulous people we meet along the way, and thus also the ones most destined for bloody tragedy.

Kyle assesses organized crime in the Deep South as a “loose affiliation of deadbeats and scumbags.” He would understand the skepticism, then, about whether moviegoers will develop sufficient emotional attachment.

Rated R, 117 minutes.