What do a film about a cheerleader who murders her abusive step-dad and a Russian novel about guilt and moral superiority have in common? On the evidence of Crime + Punishment In Suburbia, nothing. Rob Schmidt's film is so shallow that even a mouse couldn't paddle in it. By alluding to Dostoevsky in the title, it only emphasises the gulf between this pretentious American Beauty clone and a classic work of depth and meaning.
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