Crowe is quite capable of being compelling even when doing banal stuff—the highlight here is a variation on the “falling off the wagon” trope, as he captures the sheer delight of a guy who has literally forgotten how much he loves whiskey. The end point, like the movie’s, feels inevitable, but the journey there contains small joys.

Luke Y. Thompson

The A.V. Club

Sleeping Dogs has pacing problems, and the direction is competent but not particularly stylish. What holds the film together, and what holds our attention to the very end, is the powerful performance by Russell Crowe as a man haunted by demons he can’t quite remember.

Richard Roeper

Chicago Sun-Times

Sleeping Dogs winds up playing like a low-rent Saw sequel without the elaborate traps or gore. It’s all bad cops and worse twists, turning the fragility of human memory into a cheap trick.