Somehow director David Gordon Green persuaded Al Pacino to scale back his performance in this quiet indie drama, but even when Pacino works small, he rolls over everything in his path. His character, a curmudgeonly locksmith in a small Texas town, dotes on his cat and his granddaughter, delivers high-handed life lectures to his slick, commodity-trading son (Chris Messina), and carelessly wounds the sweet, middle-aged bank teller (Holly Hunter, wonderful as usual) who inexplicably nurses a crush on him. First-time screenwriter Paul Logan gives the locksmith a sad secret—he still pines for an old lover who rejected him—but it’s too canned to be relatable. I spent most of the movie admiring Pacino’s discipline in the role instead of believing he was the character. With Harmony Korine.