Jack asks Harry to look into some people who are blackmailing him; What follows is breezy, predictable, and incoherent, with the legendary cast evoking past greatness long enough to underscore the present movie's inadequacies. Among those is Sarandon, who is just too nurturing, too damn liberal, to be a convincing femme fatale. Benton gets the sun-faded LA look down right, but with its inconsequential and sometimes tasteless plot dodderings (was Harry castrated? what will that numbnuts Hispanic chauffeur do next?), Twilight will probably ease its way into early box-office retirement.