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Al Pacino has "88 Minutes" -- you and I have 105 -- to figure out who's trying to kill him, and why. We'll need every one of them.
Time is also of the essence for the Seattle Slayer, a brutal serial killer (is there any other kind?) whom Al sent to death row and who is scheduled to be killed, legally, this very day unless a stay of execution comes through based on new evidence.
Everybody's got a deadline in director Jon Avnet's dark thriller, starring Pacino as Dr. Jack Gramm, a celebrated forensic psychiatrist who profiles serial murderers for the FBI and Seattle police. Gramm's expert testimony convicted Jon Forster (Neal McDonough) but now, on the eve of frying, comes news of another killing that exactly matches Forster's M.O. -- and the victim is one of Gramm's students.
- Starring: Al Pacino, Alicia Witt
- Rating: R for disturbing scenes of violence, brief nudity and language.
- Web site: 88 Minutes
Copycat? Coincidence?
I don't think so.
But it's enough to cast disturbing doubt on Forster's conviction. And a phone call telling Gramm he has 88 minutes to live is enough to disturb any psychiatrist -- however celebrated or forensic.
Trouble is, for Gramm as well as the audience, there are as many suspects as minutes and Starbucks outlets here, including a small bevy of beauties from Gramm's own inner circle. The last thing one would do in a situation like this is call the cops and book a nice safe weekend getaway to Vancouver.
Or rather, I would, but Gramm wouldn't. He's Al Pacino, he's in Seattle, and he takes time out from lattes to unravel the mystery -- and save his skin -- himself.
Director Avnet has a flair for pacing and atmosphere, as evidenced in "Fried Green Tomatoes" (1991) and "Up Close and Personal" (1996). He captures the perpetually gray, wet Seattle ambience and covers a multitude -- but hardly all -- of the story's logical sins. Most ludicrous element of Gary Scott Thompson's script is the killer's well-orchestrated publicity campaign against Gramm from behind bars.
Convicted inmates on death row aren't typically allowed to give live interviews on MSNBC or to do Larry King-type phone-in shows a few hours before their demise.
But it's always fun to watch Pacino, even if he's slumming it a bit here. No offense to them, but Alicia Witt, Leelee Sobieski and Amy Brenneman don't rank up high among his greatest female co-stars. Maybe that's why Pacino in this role is so uncharacteristically low-key: The Scent of a Serial Killer just isn't as potent as a Woman's.
