Robert Altman’s ’90s output has been somewhat hit-and-miss (for every Short Cuts, there’s been a Prêt-à-Porter) but following the somnolent three-hour torpor of last year’s Kansas City, he has rebounded with a genuine winner. Set in Mississippi, Cookie’s Fortune is a swamp-scented mystery thriller and a gentle comedy rolled into one, infused with the sort of gloriously laid-back atmosphere that characterises a baking-hot day in the Deep South that you just don’t want to end.

The film unfolds at an extremely leisurely pace, and those viewers inclined to impatience will probably find themselves fidgeting anxiously for the first half-hour or so – but once the story takes off, it spins a richly satisfying web that, in its own understated way, stands up to the director’s very best work.

Set in the one-horse town of Holly Springs, Cookie’s Fortune bases itself around an apparent murder mystery which is in fact no mystery at all: eccentric octogenarian matriarch Cookie Patricia (Neal) kick-starts the proceedings by committing suicide in order to “be closer to” her late husband, and leaves an explanatory note.

The problems begin when her corpse is discovered by her nieces (Close and Moore) – Close’s character, an unforgettably uptight and affected Southern dame with an exaggerated Dixie accent an obnoxious concern for “appearances”, swallows the note and reports the whole affair as a murder. This results in the bizarre incarceration of Cookie’s best friend, the film’s most tangibly decent character, before Holly Springs’ team of less-than-ace detectives set about getting to the bottom of the mystery.

While the investigation proceeds at a gloriously slothful pace, most of the considerable pleasure Cookie’s Fortune has to offer comes from savouring the acting, which is richly satisfying from all concerned. Gleen Close puts in a performance so intentionally annoying, and so undeniably brilliant, that you genuinely want to pound on her character's head all night long with a big nailed brick – which is always an indicator of success. Julianne Moore has a ball as Close’s mousey, softly-spoken sister, while Liv Tyler hits a career high with a beguilingly sincere performance Moore’s faintly trashy daughter, feisty and sweet and just about too nice to be a Bad Girl. Charles S. Duton (a Spike Lee regular) is also worthy of note in the film’s pivotal role, and the likes of Lyle Lovett and Chris O’Donnell can also be spotted dossing around.

Critical or commercial success of any serious note will probably elude Cookie’s Fortune – it’s perhaps a shade too light and inconsequential to be truly essential viewing – but if you want something that will lighten up your spirits and stick a sure-fire smile on your face, few films will fit the bill quite as snugly. Laxy, easygoing, and so relaxed you almost expect it to yawn and stretch every now and then. Cookie’s Fortune is one to slowly savour.