Almost all of this movie is shot on a plane. Unfortunately it wasn’t fatally injured.
This is the first time I’ve seen a DreamWorks movie where the boy fishing before the credits actually wraps the line around his neck and hangs himself from a tree.
Red Eye stars Rachel McAdams and Cillian Murphy, two fish sized just right to throw back in the sea. They’re “stars of
tomorrow” says Entertainment Weekly, which is Hollywood-speak for “cheap talent.”
This flick is directed by horror-meister Wes Craven who has never seen a budget too low, a concept too high, or a sequel too gratuitous. If this is the kind of project Wes is reduced to nowadays, I suggest he take up knitting.
Cillian Murphy plays some sort of international assassin, even though he has never killed anything but my buzz.
Rachel is a hotel manager who is on a plane to Miami. There she is cornered by nasty Cillian who warns her she must switch the hotel room for a government official so he’s more killable - or her father dies!
In other words, it’s the kind of outlandish tale usually narrated by Oompa Loompas.
I don’t know who pitched this to DreamWorks but did they have to use a wiffle ball? Pam Anderson couldn’t knock this out of the park if she used her own knockers.
So let me get this straight. Because you can kill a government official better in a different room, you have to fly across the country with a hotel employee? Might I suggest that you don’t make your assassination plan contingent on one particular hotel room?!
Rachel eventually fights back, of course, all to save her dad, Brian Cox, a man whose hair is painted brown in the same even tones you paint your bedroom. It’s “natural” just as everything younger than Brian is “natural,” like the age of the Earth, for example.
Said the flight attendant, “the studio has turned off the ‘high expectation’ sign. You’re free to move about the theater – ideally about a hundred yards or more.”
Cillian, you see, is on the payroll of some vengeful and seedy Eastern European terrorists, because everyone knows
that the U.S. government is hated by terrorists who hail from…uh…Europe. Political correctness, thou art a fiendish foe!
Maybe it’s just me, but the idea of using an offshore rocket launcher to kill a man in a penthouse hotel room strikes me as the dumbest idea any terrorist has ever had. The only saving grace is that I got to hear a Secret Service agent scurry through a hotel room yelling “incoming!”
Whatever’s “incoming” does not include the gratitude of an audience, I can tell you.
So Rachel works up the nerve to stab Cillian in the throat with a pen. Although he’ll never need a coat rack now, he’s unfortunately deprived of the ability to speak while not depriving me of the ability to watch.
Naturally Cillian wraps a scarf around his injured neck: “It worked for Robert Wagner in Hart to Hart,” he telepathically croaks to the two remaining souls in the audience who were too dyslexic to know that those “TIXE” signs actually read “EXIT.”
Cillian is obviously a little man, and he’s mean all right. Like a mean diorama from It’s a Small World. He and Rachel are two tiny people fighting tiny fights for tiny fees in a tiny movie that will be forgotten in a tiny time.
You’ll need more than Visine to get this Red Eye out.
Photos Copyright ©2005 DreamWorks SKG
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