Huge talent on display here. Trenchant dialogue. Nicely filmed. A little slowly paced, but the story unfolds nicely. A peek inside the British dark side? For sure.

So what's wrong with this excellently acted British revenge drama? It arrives at an ambiguous ending. On some level, that is interesting. But only if we understand who is doing what at the end.

Unfortunately, with I'll Sleep When I'm Dead, we do not know.

Am I an idiot, or is it important to know the identity of the man driving golf balls on the beach? Ambiguity is the hardest thing non-art-movie audiences have with art movies. Twisted they can take. Irony they can take. Bitter they can take. Political they can take. But unclear outcomes are, and remain, the one issue that audiences, including dumbass Americans like me, have trouble with.

What just happened?

It's nice seeing Charlotte Rampling, though. Still sexy after all these years.