Too many wasted gems in 'Don't Say A Word'

Julien R. Fielding

The first rule in crafting a thriller - keep them guessing until just before the curtain falls.

Anthony Peckham and Patrick Smith Kelly, who adapted Andrew Klavan's 1991 novel "Don't Say A Word," must have skipped over that chapter.

Because after the first 15 minutes they tell us who did it, why he did it and basically how things were going to unravel.

All we can do is sit back, watch events unfold and lament that a potentially good movie took a nose dive into mediocrity.

Dr. Nathan Conrad (Michael Douglas), a $200-an-hour psychiatrist with a magic touch with teens, gets the challenge of his career when a criminal (Sean Bean) kidnaps his daughter (Skye McCole Bartusiak). But instead of demanding a ransom, this British baddie wants the doctor to extract and deliver a six-digit number, which is buried deep in the mind of a troubled patient Elisabeth Burrows (Brittany Murphy), within seven hours.

What lured me to this film was the "psychological" substratum of the genre. How will the psychiatrist wrestle buried information out of a mind that refuses to acquiesce? What secrets will he uncover?

Everything starts out promising. Before entering the woman's lair, he's shown photos of her recent bloodied victim. We hold our breath as he disappears behind the locked door.

But it's tension the movie's adapters can't sustain. They aren't interested in this aspect of the story, because - I don't know - it would take something called talent to pull it off.

So rather than give us a "Silence of the Lambs" or "Instinct" we get "Ransom" - without the benefit of Mel Gibson.

When Murphy read this script, and I have no idea how many rewrites it went through, she probably thought, "Oh wow, now here's one hell of a role." She's played disturbed characters before, and with some acclaim, so no one doubted she would dazzle. Her turn in "Girl, Interrupted," as Daisy, the girl who refused to eat, was an outstanding effort.

With her shaking hands and tear-stained eyes, she's convincing in "Don't Say A Word." She's strongest at the very beginning, when she eerily chimes, "I'll never tell."

You feel the cold hand of the grave tickling your neck. All that soon dissipates, though, and Murphy never quite hits those emotional peaks you assume someone in her position would experience. Furthermore, considering how integral this character is to the story, she gets too little screen time. This is, after all, Douglas' vehicle.

But his character isn't all that entertaining. He's simply too good to be true - the best husband, doctor and father. We only see a few cracks in his veneer of perfection. He's the mythical Hollywood super hero who, even when facing adversity, never loses his cool. He makes demands on the kidnapper; he calls the shots.

Murphy isn't the only wasted gem in this film.

Oliver Platt, who plays Dr. Jerald Sachs, is an actor replete with talent. Typically he plays it witty, sharp and can make almost any bad film tolerable. Too bad casting agents don't give him the parts he's due. I would have liked to see him tackle the Douglas role.

Bean, too, has little to work with. His character, described as a ghost, has little background or motivation for that matter. OK, maybe he has greed, but we need more than that. He narrows his eyes sufficiently, takes with a condescending tone and smiles in inappropriate moments, but we need more. He was better in "Goldeneye" or "Ronin."

Jennifer Esposito, who plays Det. Sandra Cassidy, makes Angie Dickinson and Pam Greer proud with her ballsy policewoman. If only her character hadn't stepped over from another movie.

Actually, that's the overriding problem of this script. It aspires to be so many things that it never develops anything one-angle. It's like a shotgun blast in the air.

Furthermore, director Gary Fleder, who also ruined "Kiss the Girls," and cinematographer Amir M. Mokri assert no original creativity. It's as if they borrowed a "How to Film Your First Motion Picture" book then worked through it from beginning to end.

We get the standard helicopter shot where the camera rapidly zooms over a body of water then pulls back to reveal the town. (Gee, I wasn't bored enough with that in the 1980s when countless directors made that their signature opening.)

Then we find out who the doctor is through close-ups of his diplomas. Uvula-revealing yawn. Even the opening bank heist won't turn any knuckles white. And when the flames from the burning van encircle Bean's face to reveal his anger, I had to fight back cackling laughter.

Is that town so devoid of directors that Fleder keeps getting work? This guy wouldn't know how to turn out a decent thriller if Alfred Hitchcock were coaching him.

All I can say is if you like a well-crafted, stylistic thriller with plenty of suspense, you'll be wasting your time with "Don't Say A Word."

Too many wasted gems in 'Don't Say A Word' was originally published in Daily Nonpareil on 4 October, 2001. © Council Bluffs Daily Nonpareil LLC