Carnage Park ★★½

Located in the dusty stretch of hell that lies between homage and pastiche, Mickey Keating’s “Carnage Park” is a lean, mean, motherfucker of a movie that confirms the young director’s outsized potential but fails to follow through on his most explicit promise. A twisted “true crime” story that’s heavily indebted to Quentin Tarantino and boasts all the historical validity of “Inglourious Basterds,” this gnarly gore-fest opens with the kind of reckless, apocryphal declaration that’s only made by geniuses or kids too young to know any better: “The film you are about to see is perhaps the most bizarre episode in the annals of American crime.” That’s a mighty big gauntlet to drop at the feet of an unsuspecting audience, but “Carnage Park” nearly lives up to its own hype — at least for a little while, anyway.

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