After The Sunset Brett Ratner

After The Sunset Brett Ratner
This is the kind of picture you can advertise with a big piece of butcher's paper stamped with the word "movie" — it's so generic, it's practically primordial.

Straight from the vaults comes our jewel thief protagonist (Pierce Brosnan), who's stolen two out of three in a series of precious gems; shortly thereafter, his federal-agent antagonist (Woody Harrelson) emerges, who's bent on revenge after failing both times to catch him. The two converge on the Caribbean island where our hero has retired and where a cruise ship housing the final diamond in the series has conveniently docked; Woody is trying to catch Brosnan, who's supposed to be retired but is tempted nonetheless.

A few feeble wrinkles come in the form of Salma Hayek, whose chief purpose is to occasionally offer leering close-ups of her rack, and Don Cheadle, as the local crime lord looking to expand his empire, but it's all the sort of thing that Ryan O'Neal would have done 30 years ago, except then it might have had a little style going for it.

As directed by Rush Hour hack Brett Ratner, it's like spending a cruise with some horribly gauche relatives who keep complaining about the food and smell like Vicks Vap-O-Rub — they suck any pleasure you might have had out of the experience by dragging you back into their coarse reality.

Lacking the panache to be truly vulgar, the film is merely banal, full of witless witty banter and gags old enough to have dated your grandmother. If you're easily amused, this might be breezy fun. All others are advised to flee in terror. (Alliance Atlantis)