This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
In a deconstructed, boxed-up office, the now-former co-worker Larry studies, with remorse, what has become of Charles Driggs, whose right arm is caught in a sling, nose contorted, and disposition reading broken; he’s wishing his chum farewell. Having bore witness to the beginning of his decline back in Pennsylvania, Larry, swimming in the innocence of his safe, corporate life, asks Charles
How do you figure a guy like Ray Sinclair?
met only with pause and a brief stammer. It’s not…