70s Hollywood turned out films like The Crossing Guard with remarkable alacrity. Perhaps that's why Sean Penn cast a craggy Jack Nicholson in the lead of his second stint as writer-director. He's Freddy Gale, a Los Angeles jeweller who once had a life, a wife (Angelica Houston) and three kids. But that was before they went and lost Emily to a drunk driver called Booth.

Five years on and Booth (David Morse) is to be released. In the interim Freddy's marriage has collapsed, forcing him to seek oblivion in a succession of empty bottles and brassy strippers. He lives for the chance to right a wrong, to put a bullet in John Booth's head.

The Crossing Guard is a film about damaged men and the ways in which they confront their guilt. Freddy marks the calendar to head off self-destruction through a simple act of violence. Booth eats himself up from the inside, denied the chance to atone for his sins. He meets a woman artist at a party (Robin Wright), but his conscience looks set to keep them apart. There is little joy in these frames.

Our reason for staying aboard - what staves off maudlin self-pity - is Nicholson. His strongest showing in years, Freddy looks far beyond the flyaway hair and sunken eyes to the star of Five Easy Pieces. He's clearly working harder than his younger self, but, hey, he's an old man. See it for him if nothing else.

As in The Indian Runner Penn's direction proves distinctive - sensibly sober and un-urgent - even if his use of close-up is as intelligent as his slo-mo is overbearing. And like that film, The Crossing Guard is more a collection of scenes lacking a backbone. It's good but could so easily have been better. Undoubtedly Penn'll make a great film one day, but this, for now, will do to be going on with.