KISS THE GIRLS (Paramount)Directed by Gary Fleder
Based on James Patterson's best-seller, "Kiss The Girls" comes on like an intelligent, intense psychological thriller, and for about half an hour you might suspect you've found the new "Silence of the Lambs," or "Seven '97." But like a good-looking blind date who promises dinner and a movie, then takes you to Burger King and "Wishmaster," the spell dissipates quickly, leaving you feeling seduced and abandoned.
Put the blame partially on Patterson and screenwriter David Klass. After an arresting set-up involving a voyeur who kidnaps bright young women and imprisons them in an underground lair, the story turns into a flat combination of John Fowles' "The Collector" and "Silence," with scraps of the far-superior "Copycat" thrown in to no good effect. Morgan Freeman, excellent as always, plays Dr. Alex Cross, a forensic psychologist from Washington D.C. who travels to Durham, N.C. to probe the disappearance of his niece. Down South he runs into snickering cracker cops (are there any other kind in second-rate movies?) who try to give him the brush-off, and Cross, despite being hundreds of miles outside of his jurisdiction, determines to investigate the kidnapping personally.
That's just the first of many incredulities the audience is asked to swallow. Even more improbably, Cross teams up with a civilian, a doctor named Kate McTiernan (Ashley Judd) who's the only victim to have escaped from this covetous captor, who identifies himself as "Casanova." The multi-layered relationship that appears to be developing between Cross and McTiernan is by far the most original and intriguing aspect of "Kiss The Girls," but the movie largely ignores it, choosing instead to trot out the usual cat-and-mouse games and an anti-climactic trip through a haunted house that's hauntingly similar--and inferior to--the finale of "Silence." Only the charisma of Freeman and Judd (who's rapidly developing into a reliably solid performer) keeps the movie afloat and the audience awake, since the excellent supporting cast (Cary Elwes, Jeremy Piven, Tony Goldwyn, etc) is woefully underutilized. Cross' frequent snafus make you wonder what this man is doing calling himself a cop, but Freeman's poise and intelligence allows you to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Though McTiernan is called upon to behave almost as recklessly and unconvincingly, Judd gives the woman a daunting sense of conviction. "Kiss" is further hobbled by the look-at-me-I-just-got-out-of-film-school style of director Gary Fleder ("Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead"), whose motto seems to be "when in doubt, shoot it with a jiggly hand-held camera." Several scenes in the film also feature pointless slow-motion, the trademark of many a desperate director, and those who like to spot continuity flaws will marvel at how McTiernan's scarred face heals almost overnight and how Cross emerges from a dunking in a well with remarkably dry clothing. James Sanford
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