It was that kind of a dubious movie, where there is just no escape from its excesses despite its credo being there's always a way to escape.

If you try to piece the story together, the logic won't hold. But trademark Mamet magic happens: requisite razor sharp dialogue, a complicated turn of events, and terrific cast of characters whose performances pop.

What is memorable is the film's portrait of a man of honor in a sleazy world, possibly a metaphor for the struggle of the artist to stay honorable in a world of backbiting, betrayal and hunger for easy money.

The glue that holds it together is Ejiofor's muscular performance as a man whose principles may be about to feel the brass knuckles of reality.

Watching Redbelt is like watching a chess game. As Mamet manipulates his characters, it's involving and occasionally thrilling, but it never makes you feel much.

David Mamet's take on the trendy new world of mixed martial arts is a gem not quite like anything I've seen before — a smart, absorbing, anti-Hollywood, hypermacho look at what it is to be a true martial artist and a man.

Mamet's love for the sport comes through in every frame.

It's neither uninteresting nor unentertaining, but the plot is as threadbare as an old carpet and Mamet's narrative contortions will leave many viewers scratching their heads.

Ejiofor, a marvelously focused actor whose range and intensity are given a faintly inscrutable edge here, holds the center of the screen.

A fascinating, beautifully acted study in philosophical tension.