It’s taken 15 years, but Jennifer Lynch has finally put the Boxing Helena pans behind her and made another movie. And lo and behold, Surveillance—premiering tonight as a midnight screening—is just as unwatchable as Boxing Helena, albeit lacking in the gender-warfare pathology that made that film marginally interesting.

Clearly, Lynch watched her father David’s Lost Highway and thought Robert Blake’s Mystery Man was a cool visual idea. Bill Pullman and Julia Ormond star as a pair of FBI agents in the desert investigating a bizarre multiple homicide. They interrogate the witnesses, and as Lynch proceeds to demonstrate in flashbacks, witnesses don’t always tell the truth. You get to see a darkly comic, extended ripoff of Lost Highway’s tailgating scene—albeit involving speeding instead of tailgating—and Pullman, whose character goes increasingly batshit, does his best Dennis Hopper.

The rest is all basic-cable tedium, although the movie inspired fewer boos than Lucrecia Martel’s The Headless Woman, a perplexing, Almodóvar-produced attempt to probe the psychology of a woman who hits…something—it’s not clear what—with her car. The most interesting thing about the film may be its stylistic break with Martel’s other movies; it’s a good deal less tactile than La Cienaga or The Holy Girl.

Pardon the shorter post than usual, but I should put on some sunscreen and line up for Steven Soderbergh’s four-and-a-half hour Che, which is screening almost simultaneously tonight in the Salle Bazin and the Theater Claude Debussy. Together, the theaters have—I believe—roughly 900 fewer seats than the one where Indiana Jones played, which means we may get to see critics star in their own version of Tyson.