David Ayer’s long-delayed “Harsh Times” (thanks to MGM’s turbulence, not with the film’s actual quality) is an exhilarating hard-boiled enigma. On the one hand, this grinding interpersonal week-in-the-life thriller is an energetic kick in the face, a no-holds-barred pulp fiction reveling in personal demons, muddy self destruction and the kinetic vitriol of doing things not remotely good for you.

On the other, however, it is a two hour slog through depravity, a nihilistic free-for-all reveling in pain, misery and unrepentant vice. It is a film where the hero is a ne’er-do-well follower and the protagonist is a scared taxi cab driver unable to quash the war-fueled horrors haunting him, seemingly intent on dragging his best friend and compatriot straight down to Hell right alongside him.

For some this is going to be their idea of a good time; for others, not so much. So color me as taking the easy way out and walking straight down the middle of the road, impressed by Ayer’s filmmaking and by the astonishing acting by leads Christian Bale and Freddy Rodríguez while in the same breath turned off by the ceaseless depravity and dingily depressing melodrama. Quite frankly, I felt dirty walking out of this picture, and while I’m more than willing to sing the praises of every single element here that works excuse me if I feel more than happy not to ever have to sit through thing ever again.

Jim Davis (Bale) is an ex-Army Ranger trying to make a go of it as a cadet in the Los Angeles Police Department. Mike Alonzo (Rodríguez) is his out-of-work best friend pushed by his lawyer girlfriend Sylvia (Eva Longoria) to find a new job. Davis agrees to take his friend out on the town to drop off resumes, but instead of doing that they end up doing nothing more than drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and otherwise causing their share of havoc.

And that’s really it. The whole movie is like a dark distant cousin to Martin Scorsese’s seminal black comedy “After Hours,” only here the humor is even more coated in muck, mire and blood. Jim and Mike beat up some Latino thugs, witness the murder of a supposed local crime lord, hangout with old friends getting high, head down to Mexico to spend time with the former’s girlfriend Marta (Tammy Trull) and try to sell a few kilos of marijuana with tragic consequences. It’s bleakly hilarious and devastatingly disturbing, the whole thing a decent straight down to the very nether regions of Hades, the only way out linked to the forgiveness of the one person who believed in you all along.

The acting here is phenomenal. Bale chews right through his character with a feral ferocity that’s borderline astonishing. His Jim Davis is a true force of nature, a monstrous fiend wanting desperately to change his stripes and revel in the wholesome love of the woman he holds dear. But his own self destructiveness won’t allow this to occur, his thirst to try and find some justifying reason in the violence his talented militaristic abilities lead to outweighing any opportunities for him to be able to find some sort of nightmare-less solace.

Rodríguez’s Mike inhabits the flipside of this duality. He’s intrigued by his friend, drawn to the dangerous aura surrounding him. He hungers to know what the violence Jim has committed in defense of his country feels like, and like a kid in a candy story unsure of the hidden dangers hiding inside each candy bar is curious to see what blood spilt in pursuit of death really looks like. It’s a tough balancing act for an actor and yet somehow Rodríguez manages to walk it beautifully, the performer making Mike both endearing and pitiable virtually at the same time. More, his final scenes are a corker, the torrent of emotional feelings unleashed by the actor crashing upon the audience like a tidal wave of tearful heartbreak.

To what end? Ayer’s dark journey is a tough slog even for fans of introspectively nascent violence-fueled melodrama. There is no question where all of this is going, and no matter how much I grew to care for any of the characters it was a forgone conclusion that the entire house of cards the filmmaker had based his picture upon must come crashing down in cascading shards of sickening violence. There is no surprise here, no twist or turn that is not unexpected or already anticipated.

And yet, I cannot help but be impressed with the audacity behind it all. Ayer chooses to look straight into the heart of darkness and does not waver in the slightest bit. He and his cast take things all the way, refusing to pull punches or find an easy way out. That’s worthy, and while it doesn’t make watching “Harsh Times” any easier it certainly makes it something a heck of a lot more painless to appreciate.