It's easy to feel sucked into some kind of time warp back to the heyday of late-'90s post-Tarantino crime thrillers, cut-rate knockoffs filled with casually cartoonish violence, quippy patter, overtly flash filmmaking and incongruous pop tunes.

The nicest thing to be said about Cat Run might be that it doesn't know what kind of movie it wants to become.

If you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, baffle 'em with genre baloney -- and enough shoplifted visual trickery to fill Quentin Tarantino's kitchen sink.

Run, don't walk, to Cat Run.