MAJOR SPOILERS
As thrillers go, this one is pretty stupid. Gerard Butler plays Neil Randall a hot-shot advertising executive with a perfect family in the form of gorgeous Maria Bello and their young daughter. The thing is, Tom's a little too smug from the outset, which made me dislike him immediately. He goes through the motions of stepping aside to allow a colleague a stab at proving himself but, when his suggestion is turned down, chooses not to promote his colleague's talents to his boss. He also drives a 4x4 in the city, a sure indicator that the guy is as bankrupt of values as it eventually turns out he is scruples.
Into the Randall's picture-perfect life steps the mysterious stubble-chinned Tom Ryan (Pierce Brosnan) who, with sinister ease, adeptly picks apart the threads of their cosy existence. Ryan oozes menace with his weathered features and bog-Irish accent. Brosnan is actually quite good, even though his character's motives remain a mystery for most of the film and writer William Morrissey is unable to add any kind of dimension to his character. Brosnan's accent had me thinking Randall had somehow fallen foul of the IRA, but the truth is far more fantastical than that.
The trouble with films like these and Nick of Time is the film that immediately springs to mind is that the main characters are under such relentless pressure throughout that at no point during the film do they or the viewer have a chance to sit back and consider what has happened. It's all rush, rush, rush: withdraw their cash, find money for dinner, deliver an incriminating package, unravel cryptic riddles, keep the increasingly volatile Ryan placated, hunt for kidnapped daughter. After a half-hour of this it all starts becoming a little tiresome and increasingly far-fetched.
After 90-minutes of cat-and-mouse escapades it turns out that the whole thing is an elaborate charade devised by wifey to get back at her errant husband for having an affair with his secretary Ryan's wife. Most women would satisfy themselves with cutting up his suits and painting a few insults questioning his parentage on that big shiny Chelsea tractor of his, but that would really be just a little too true to life. Sounds like these two pretty much deserve each other if you ask me
As thrillers go, this one is pretty stupid. Gerard Butler plays Neil Randall a hot-shot advertising executive with a perfect family in the form of gorgeous Maria Bello and their young daughter. The thing is, Tom's a little too smug from the outset, which made me dislike him immediately. He goes through the motions of stepping aside to allow a colleague a stab at proving himself but, when his suggestion is turned down, chooses not to promote his colleague's talents to his boss. He also drives a 4x4 in the city, a sure indicator that the guy is as bankrupt of values as it eventually turns out he is scruples.
Into the Randall's picture-perfect life steps the mysterious stubble-chinned Tom Ryan (Pierce Brosnan) who, with sinister ease, adeptly picks apart the threads of their cosy existence. Ryan oozes menace with his weathered features and bog-Irish accent. Brosnan is actually quite good, even though his character's motives remain a mystery for most of the film and writer William Morrissey is unable to add any kind of dimension to his character. Brosnan's accent had me thinking Randall had somehow fallen foul of the IRA, but the truth is far more fantastical than that.
The trouble with films like these and Nick of Time is the film that immediately springs to mind is that the main characters are under such relentless pressure throughout that at no point during the film do they or the viewer have a chance to sit back and consider what has happened. It's all rush, rush, rush: withdraw their cash, find money for dinner, deliver an incriminating package, unravel cryptic riddles, keep the increasingly volatile Ryan placated, hunt for kidnapped daughter. After a half-hour of this it all starts becoming a little tiresome and increasingly far-fetched.
After 90-minutes of cat-and-mouse escapades it turns out that the whole thing is an elaborate charade devised by wifey to get back at her errant husband for having an affair with his secretary Ryan's wife. Most women would satisfy themselves with cutting up his suits and painting a few insults questioning his parentage on that big shiny Chelsea tractor of his, but that would really be just a little too true to life. Sounds like these two pretty much deserve each other if you ask me