(rated R, 105 mins) It’s being tagged a neo-Gothic thriller about Romulus Ledbetter (Samuel L. Jackson) a Julliard-trained classical musician who lives in a cave (by night) and plays detective (by day) not as well as he plays piano. A man caught between genius and madness, Romulus abandoned his life, wife and daughter Lulu (Aunjanue Ellis) now a grown NYPD cop. Romulus is gifted (and I use the word loosely) with an inner voice/vision deriving power from a television plugged into nothing and the Manhattan Chrylser building (of course!). But who is going to believe the ranting of a paranoid schizophrenic when he tells the privileged art world that he has piece-mealed a murder involving David Leppenraub (Colm Feore), a prominent art photographer for whom young boys often pose. His motto: all great art is born of suffering. The one man who stands behind Romulus is a bankruptcy attorney Bob (Anthony Michael Hall) who claims the “Depresssion was a golden era for my kind.” While one keeps hoping the tricky visuals and incredible acting of Jackson will come together, (Jackson’s first reteaming with Director Kasi Lemmons since “Eve’s Bayou”), there’s a under-gnaw of why this street person would even bother to consume himself with a murder, when his bigger concern should be where his next meal is coming from.