Ambulance-chasing with the latest form of human pond scum, an aggressive crowd of opportunistic late-night freelance photographers who make their living from the graphic misfortune of others. "If you're seeing me, you're having the worst day of your life," brags the new recruit in this bloodthirsty professional sport, a hauntingly detached functional sociopath played by Jake Gyllenhaal.

It's a top-notch performance, Patrick Bateman-esque in its eerie moral bankruptcy. Laser-focused and analytical in all things, he's amoral to the core. He communicates in long, precise sentences that cut straight to the point, strategically disarming his conversational adversaries before they even know they've entered a sparring match. If not for the obvious physical indications, one might question if he's human at all. The one exception might be his fondness for composition, an endless pursuit of sublime photographic harmony amidst the broken glass and shattered bodies of a fatal auto accident. The rescue crews and police officers, also present amidst the carnage, are mere obstacles between his lens and the natural beauty he finds, bleeding and gurgling, upon the asphalt.

As Gyllenhaal grows bolder and more calculated in his nightly hunt for that next great shot, the stakes increase and his eye grows more selective. It all culminates in a masterful climax, a white-knuckle chase scene, that pulled me from my cozy spot on the couch to a closer seat on the floor, a few feet removed from the TV screen. I can't remember the last time I was so invested in a story.