It doesn't sound bad. Clint Eastwood plays an FBI profiler who has a heart attack, gets a transplant and comes back two years later to nab the killer of the young mom whose heart he's carrying. But Bloodwork is bad, oh, lordy, yes, it is. It's commendable that Eastwood, 72, isn't vain about acting his age. Still, since winning the Oscar for 1992's Unforgiven, Eastwood's directing work — with the exception of the underrated A Perfect World and the risky Bridges of Madison County — has been fair (Space Cowboys) to middling (Absolute Power, True Crime) to worse (Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil). Bloodwork, adapted clumsily from Michael Connelly's novel, has two speeds: rushed and lazy. This leaves fine actors — Anjelica Huston, Jeff Daniels — stuck in a whodunit you can figure out from the trailer. From Eastwood, you expect more than a rote thriller with tired blood.
From The Archives Issue 341: April 16, 1981