Until now Bale's screen persona has been defined by a graceful athleticism; here his physicality is repellent, yet he carries the occasionally creaky plot of Scott Kosar's unsettling screenplay to a resonant finish.

A few scenes into the gloom and you'll have a good idea what is generally up, if not the specifics, making the journey toward the eventual, inevitable twist fairly one-dimensional.

One can't deny the dubious appeal of the spectacle of the skin-and-bone Bale, quite possibly endangering his health for the sake of his art.

"The Machinist" is a well-crafted psychological thriller about self-deception and tragedy, told against an eerie landscape of terrifying dislocation and isolation. This is one effed up horror movie.