Initially promising thriller whose tension sputters out at the midway point

Rating: 4/10 (15 April 2011)

A textbook case of something that probably sounded daring and more entertaining on paper than it does in execution. Identity is initially an update on Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None. A legion of diverse characters become stranded in a storm at an isolated desert motel, where one by one they are picked off by someone (or something).
The story is not new, but it is most definitely reliable. The atmosphere is tense, there is a definite sense of dread surrounding the proceedings. An ace cast has been compiled to inhabit the roles of the prospective victims and the screenplay throws in some twists, like all of the people discovering they were born on the same day or everyone's last name is a state. Tidbits which definitely perk the interest and make one wonder whether there is not a supernatural or metaphysical element going on. Meanwhile, a subplot is concurrently running concerning a schizophrenic murderer (Pruit Taylor Vince) and his concerned physician (Alfred Molina). Is Vince the perpetrator behind the killings? Are we seeing something that has already happened being told in flashback?
Unfortunately, the screenplay has one twist that comes right around the midway mark that utterly annihilated any further suspense or rooting interest that one has in the film. The viewer is then left with a healthy expanse of dead space that becomes more tedious and illogical with each passing moment. The writers/director probably thought this novel twist was monumental, but it actually shoots the film in the foot. It is predicated on the fact that we MUST have some sympathy with the institutionalized killer - a character that is marginal at best up to that point in the film. It is completely wrong though. The viewer's sympathy and interest lie with the people back at the motel, and by robbing the main plot of any reason to become emotionally involved, the film renders itself pointless.
There are good performances about. John Cusack is a solid and likable leading man. Ray Liotta trots out his familiar tough guy shtick to good advantage. Amanda Peet is a lively leading lady, although why everyone in the film is able to immediately peg her as a prostitute when she is dressed more demurely than Rebecca DeMornay's shrewish actress is beyond me. Speaking of DeMornay, it would have been nice to keep her character around a bit longer. The remainder of the cast is comprised of familiar and perfectly reliable performers like Clea Duvall, John Hawkes, John C. McGinley, etc. In fact, the two fuzziest and least involving characters are the ones portrayed by Vince and Molina - and when the film drops on us that this is where our attention should be focused and our involvement lies, it is near impossible to remain engaged any further.
The latter third of the film - utterly devoid of tension despite increasing noise and hysteria - seems to go on forever. The film then, of course, attaches on a coda that leaves the door open for a possible sequel. The "shock" revelation of the "person" behind the murders at the hotel will not be much of a shock to attentive viewers or those at all familiar with thrillers in general. Unfortunately, the truth is that it really makes no difference who the "killer" at the hotel is and that is what stops the film in its tracks. Definitely an A for ambitious, but a C- for the end result.