The opening credits were the best part of the entire movie. There was a nice little dramatic climax right in the middle of the credits where the title of the movie was revealed while the music ominously foreshadowed the mystery of “the spider.” It was difficult to appreciate this moment, as it seemed so meager at the time. But when placed in the context of the rest of the movie, it was so . . . good. I would rather have watched two hours of credits than see this shameful outing.
Morgan Freeman plays Detective Alex Cross, a famous profiler and investigator from KISS THE GIRLS (this is a prequel to that movie). He’s been out of action for eight months after his partner’s death, when suddenly a senator’s daughter is kidnapped. Cross wouldn’t care normally, except the kidnapper calls him with information. He drops his reluctance like the flimsy characterization it is and teams up with the dull, cardboard cutout Jezzie Flannigan (Potter).
So who’s the “spider”? There isn’t one. None of the bad guys are crafty or sinister. The writer thought it would be cool to put a spider in the title. The plot is like a strainer, so full of holes it couldn’t hold water if your attention span depended on it. The exposition about Cross and Flannigan is pointless. It adds nothing to their characters nor does it play a role in the plot. This is advantageous because you can come into the movie halfway through and not be confused at all. The only thing that even earns this movie any stars is the final act, but it’s not enough. I was kind of hoping Freeman would double-cross everyone in the end, kill the cute daughter, and run off with the money. That, at least, would have been funny.
Instead, we’re treated to Freeman playing yet another cop, and yet again without Fincher’s (SEVEN) direction. Whoever picked Potter’s lighting scheme should be shot. I have never seen a girl look so white. It was as if she were in a permanent state of terror. Probably imagining this movie’s reviews. The bad guy, Michael Wincott, is mind-bogglingly boring. Not only are his motives typical, his actions are a mishmash of compassion and ruthlessness. I’ve never been less scared. It’s unclear how we’re supposed to feel about him. And to top it all off, the graphics are bad. How can you have bad graphics in this day and age? How could any of the actors not run screaming from this script, madly tearing at their eyeballs in some Oedipus-like state of shock and horror?
The script’s clearly bad, but sometimes a director can make crap into crêpe suzette. Personally, I think Lee Tamahori (ONCE WERE WARRIORS) should go back to independent films. A lot of times it’s safe to say that the studio probably screwed it up somewhere along the road. In this case though, I think everyone deserves their fair share of blame. It’s sad to see Freeman piss away his talent with this stuff. A mannequin could have played his part. Hell, I’d pay to see that. You could turn the film into an avant-garde metaphor for life and how we pull each other’s strings. It’s got to be worth more laughs than this.
—Zack Schenkkan
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