Phone Booth (2003) At roughly 85 minutes, all that can be said about the film is that it's clearly an experiment, and a failed one at that. Not a horrible, truly awful movie, simply one that has little to recommend itself beyond a concept with the power to generate a mild shrug of vague disinterest. I won't bother with plot mechanics—suffice it to say that sizzling-hot boy-toy Colin Farrell gets stuck in a phone booth by a mysterious caller/sniper, and if he leaves, he dies. The movie pretends to be about something, but it's the kind of silliness most appropriately dreamed up by high school kids with a junior videography assignment. Basically, Farrell's a nice guy in the body of an asshole, and the whole thing is designed for him to get redemption. It's a foregone conclusion from his first unkind act that Farrell will be forced to confront the ghosts of misdeeds past, all of whom conveniently appear behind the police line so he can shout his apologies at them and be saved. Acting's decent from Farrell—who is good enough to merit all the attention but may not survive the hype. Forrest Whitaker, as always, brings a droopy-eyed dignity to his role as a cop who predictably also needs—and gets—redemption. And Kiefer Sutherland, once a reliable punchline, continues to impress lately, this time as the disembodied voice on the telephone. Joel Schumacher hams it up on the directing side, slapping on a pointless opening voice-over, and over-stating every dramatic beat by repeating the same moment at different angles with irritating reverb and blaring music. Time and again, I try to give Schumacher the benefit of the doubt, and I always end up as frustrated as Schumacher's penis at a men's college wrestling meet. Phone Booth is like spending 85 minutes on hold waiting for customer service. Press 4 to hang up.
Review by Crimedog |