Directed by John Frankenheimer from a story by J.D. Zeik that was bent into shape by David Mamet trading as Richard Weisz (says IMDB). And what a mess it is.
We're dropped into a meetup at a bar somewhere (Paris?) that gets the principals together. It is unclear what Robert De Niro is good for; initially he acts like a boss then later as a producer and even later the operator with all the skills. Jean Reno is similar but French. Stellan Skarsgård is the Russian computer genius, and we all know you can't trust those ex-KGB blokes so why do these people? Perhaps we're supposed to think that Natasha McElhone is torn between De Niro's manliness and her revolutionary Irish cause. (She's wide eyed and flat and looks too much like Meryl Streep but is of course irresistible). Sean Bean's role is perplexing: initially strong he's shown to be a faker of no consequence. Skipp Sudduth is their driver.
The setup is essentially a heist but the bulk of the runtime is in two car chases: one in Paris and the other in or near Nice. I had no idea what was supposed to be going on until things got somewhat retconned in the final minutes. That may have been due to not having subtitles for the French bits but I'm pretty sure those did not matter. There are just too many plot holes and general incoherencies along the way. I never gave a damn about what was in the case.
Roger Ebert: three stars. "The movie is essentially bereft of a plot." And more fatally: "'I never walk into a place I don't know how to walk out of,' says De Niro, who spends most of the rest of the movie walking into places he doesn’t know how to walk out of." A Critic's Pick by Janet Maslin. She seems to have forgotten about Mann's Heat of 1995.
