Science-fiction thriller that takes a good long while to declare itself as such. A grieving mother, Julianne Moore, acting as if this were no less serious a business than The Hours or Far from Heaven, continues to make daily visits to her nine-year-old son's bedroom -- his dresser, his Mets cap, his baseball mitt, his photo albums -- fourteen months after he went down in a plane, plus weekly visits to a psychologist. Then, suddenly, all photographic evidence of the child disappears; and the mother is told, first by her husband and then by her therapist, that he never really existed. The therapist has a word for it (telamnesia?), signifying the invention of an alternative reality. Friends and neighbors unanimously confirm the child's nonexistence. So far, so intriguing. But then the National Security Agency comes into it, as well as a mystery man who bounces up after getting run down by a car and shrugs off bullets in the leg, shoulder, and back. (Alfre Woodard, in compensation, comes into it, too, as an ordinary New York cop.) The seeming impossibility of a satisfactory explanation and the seeming indestructibility of the antagonist impose heavy burdens on the film, and on the spectator's patience. In the end, there's a logical explanation, albeit a supernatural one, but it's also a weak one, a partial one, a dissatisfying one. The film as a whole mirrors the career of its director, Joseph Ruben: some early promise (Dreamscape, The Stepfather) followed by disappointment (Sleeping with the Enemy, The Good Son, Money Train, Return to Paradise). The handsomeness of the cinematography by Anastas Michos is a constant. Dominic West, Anthony Edwards, Gary Sinise. (2004) — Duncan Shepherd
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