Untraceable is unpleasant to watch, but it could’ve been a much worse film than it is. Lane is fine, while Hanks (Tom’s son) offers decent support. The weak spot is the script—co-written by Allison Burnett (Feast of Love) and two first-time screenwriters—which has its share of clunky lines that even an Oscar-nominated pro like Lane can’t make sound natural. But director Gregory Hoblit (Primal Fear, Fracture) knows how to build suspense, even when the writing lets him down. Hoblit’s earlier thrillers were interesting character studies of clever criminals. Here, however, the killer’s rationale is almost an afterthought, explained late in the proceedings, after we’ve sat through multiple acts of unimaginable cruelty.
In an attempt to justify its black heart, Untraceable pivots on the idea that the people who exploit human suffering deserve to suffer themselves, and that we, the audience, are all culpable in allowing for—even encouraging—violence and death. This is the film’s attempt, as it nears its conclusion, to make a socially responsible statement about humanity’s bloodlust. But the film we’re watching centers on human killing packaged as entertainment, with the requisite finale of fighting and finishing off the villain, which generated a hearty round of applause at the screening I attended.
The film wants it both ways. It wants to indict the very behaviors it encourages. How repulsive. Untraceable is certainly skippable and missable, but given the continued popularity of these kinds of stories, it won’t be the last time we’re exposed to this sort of thing.
Questions? Concerns? Contact the writer at crosswalkchristian@earthlink.net.
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