‘Girl on the Train’ escalates into campy homicidal hoedown

Typically, when a film performs well at the box office, there is a tendency for other studios to greenlight similar films in order to cash in on audience fervor. Oftentimes, it's an obvious quick cash-grab meant merely to ride the coattails of the former film and siphon some extra cash.

For every "Bug's Life," there's an "Antz." For every "Tombstone," there's a "Wyatt Earp." For every "Big," there's a "Like Father, Like Son."

Sometimes, though, these films can surprise in their own bargain-bin knock-off kind of way. Back in 1994, there was a host of quirky, violent films that echoed Quentin Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction," but from that film also sprung "Go," Doug Liman's wonderfully low-rent version of the breakout hit.

"Gone Girl" was based on a blockbuster whodunit book that was crafted into a fine film by visionary director David Fincher, who added a nuance and style that perhaps was not necessarily found in the source material. "The Girl on the Train" was a novel that followed "Gone Girl" on the page, with a similar twisty plot that involved a did-she-or-didn't-she scenario. Once "Gone Girl" hit big on the screen, "Girl on the Train" was an obvious choice in an attempt to provide a second helping to hungry audiences.

But where "Gone Girl's" adaptation was in the hands of a masterful auteur, "Girl on the Train" was helmed by Tate Taylor, who previously directed "The Help" and "Get on Up," which were little more than straightforward, elevated made-for-cable endeavors.

And while, on its surface, "Train" looks to carry some hefty acting pedigree that helped buoy "Gone Girl," it cannot escape its tawdry, ludicrous source material, which keeps it from ever reaching any sort of prestige. That said, it can certainly be enjoyed in its own funhouse mirror version of reality.

Rachel Watson (Emily Blunt), is a drunken divorcee whose days are spent sipping vodka as she rides the train to and from New York City. Despite her slurred words and heavy eyelids, she is able to have moments of clarity when the train passes her old home, where her husband (Justin Theroux) now lives with his new family. Just a couple doors down is Scott (Luke Evans) and Megan (Haley Bennett), a seemingly happy couple who Rachel envies until the day she sees Megan on the balcony cavorting with a stranger.

This sets her off into an angry spiral that causes her to march over to her old 'hood, only to awaken the following day bruised, bloodied and with no idea as to what she has done.

At the risk of facing the ire of countless wine-and-book club members who shot this novel to the bestseller list, "Girl on the Train" is artfully filmed and filled with A-class actors, which gives the impression that something far more reputable is on hand. But at its core beats a pulpy, seedy Lifetime-movie heart which no amount of window dressing can elevate.

The characters all exist in this rich-white-woman-alternate reality, one in which none of the ladies actually has a job that would take them away from snooping in each others' lives, and the men are all chiseled, sex-starved professionals of some sort, who care very little about the females in their lives. They all live in ornate homes, trade partners with the frequency of underwear, have children who are about as functional as table lamps, and all seem to have countless funds with which to idle away their hours playing Nancy Drew in each other's lives. Despite the film's demure beginnings, it all escalates into a campy, homicidal hoedown that is entertaining - in a millionaire mudfight kind of way. By the time it reaches its wacky conclusion, it's achieved a level of sleazy soap operatics usually reserved for the likes of the residents of Melrose Place.