Monday, August 30, 2004

Movie Review: Suspect Zero

Those of you who like to check up on these things will know that "Suspect Zero" opened just slightly ahead of "Supergenius: Baby Geniuses 2" over the weekend. Both movies just opened, and both performed below their expected levels. The only difference is that "Suspect Zero" had a chance to be a good movie, while I do not doubt that the other one would only have had a better chance in Hell if it had a corncob pipe and two eyes made out of coal.

The movie focuses around an FBI profiler who underwent a breakdown and a demotion after beating the crap out of a murderer, and dragging him accross the Mexican border into the United States. Some of you may also know that the Feds hate when that happens. Naturally, he has spiralled down into a deep psychological despair, as the job of pursuing criminals has worn down his mind, blah blah blah. Can't we just once meet an FBI profiler who likes to go home, pop some popcorn and watch Powerpuff Girls with his lady friend? Do they ALL have to have demented melancholia?

Anyways, Ben Kingsley is the only actor in this movie. Everyone else are actually corpses given life through the wonder of CGI. Seriously, Carrie-Anne Moss must still be caught by the Matrix, since she was sleeping awake the whole damn film. I have never felt as little empathy for anyone as I did for her and Eckhart, the 'star' of the movie. Ben, however, in the first two minutes of the movie makes one of the best creeps that has ever been put to film, the creep you love to hate and sympathize with, and secretly wish you could be.

All in all, this could have been a TREMENDOUSLY good film had it been given a proper treatment. It was slow, the pacing jumped around too much, and some scenes were probably spliced in the wrong order. Although the idea, the concept, and the story were top notch, it was the cinematic equivalent of taking French butter-wine shrimp, rare filet mignon, and hand-made double-cream tiramisu, mixing it all up in a blender and serving in a pint mug. In theory, the finest meal that could be imagined. In practice, quite unappetizing and possibly hazardous to your stomach.


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