Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for action violence and sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.18.11
For a time, this is a slick audience involvement picture: We empathize completely with poor Liam Neeson, and wonder what we might do next, to solve such a baffling predicament.
Then, as answers begin to flow and the narrative shifts into its third act, Oliver Butcher and Stephen Cornwell’s script becomes increasingly contrived and develops a serious case of The Stupids.
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| When Martin (Liam Neeson, far right) returns from the hospital, expecting to reassure his wife (January Jones) that he's all right, he's bewildered by her failure to recognize him ... and the fact that her "actual" husband (Aidan Quinn, second from left) is standing right next to her. |
In the final scene, as the camera pulls back from a train departing from an ultra-modern station in Berlin, it becomes clear that we’ve been had. Because of several final-act revelations, earlier parts of the story don’t hold together well. Indeed, the conclusion itself leaves a big, fat question that’s likely to raise the eyebrows of any psychologists and human behaviorists in the audience.
That’s a shame, because the first act develops the premise quite well, and suggests that we’re in for an intelligent suspense thriller.
Martin Harris (Neeson), a scientist, and his wife, Elizabeth (January Jones), have arrived in Berlin to participate in a high-profile biotech conference. As they depart the airport via taxi, Martin accidentally leaves his briefcase behind, on the sidewalk; among other things, it contains his passport and all other ID.
(Just in passing, most guys I know would keep their identification in a wallet, in a pocket or belly pack – particularly in a foreign country! – but that’s not too large a pill to swallow.)
As they reach their hotel, Martin realizes what has happened; leaving Elizabeth to check in, he grabs another taxi and starts back to the airport. He never makes it. A freak road accident – very well staged – sends the taxi plunging from a bridge and into a river. Having been knocked unconscious, he’s just barely pulled out in time by the resourceful cab driver (Diane Kruger).
When Martin regains consciousness, he’s in a hospital; four days have passed. He remembers most of what happened, and knows enough to realize that his wife must be frantic; because his American patient arrived with no identification, the attending doctor had no way of notifying her (or anybody else).
Additional minor details are glossed over here. Even with socialized health care, the hospital staff’s failure to mention money seems a bit odd; odder still is the absence of any police officers or American Embassy personnel, who’d quite reasonably want to know more about this mystery man. (The “explanation” for the absence of American Embassy folks – that this is Thanksgiving weekend – is a bit thin.)
Still, these remain small oversights: not enough to impede our mounting curiosity.
