text: A pot - boiler if ever I saw one. A supposed thriller borrowing from "A Time to Kill", "Silence of the Lambs", even an inverted "In the Heat of the Night" with a little reverse murder, a la "Strangers on a Train" thrown in, it fails abysmally where all the above, to a large degree, succeeded. Namely, in delivering thrills. The plot seems condensed from a bigger book, making the plot developments obvious and uninvolving, while the direction lacks pace and verve. To rein in any kudos, a major twist had to be delivered along the way and here it fails palpably too. Connery is clearly slowing down in his old age, barely bothering with his attempt at a US accent and besides seems too old to be the husband of Hope Lange and the father of those gosh - darn kids of his. He even has a father in law who seems younger than him. Laurence Fishburne barely gets the chance to inhabit his role and you're confused from the outset as to whether he's a bad guy or a good guy. Someone once said that flashbacks shouldn't lie - they do, confusedly, here. The rest of the playing is merely average by a reasonable cast in their underwritten stereotyped roles. The supposed climax managed too, to roll by leaving me firmly entrenched in the back, not as should have been the aim, front edge of my seat. Mediocre sloppy Hollywood film making for sure.