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Robert Ludlum is a guilty pleasure, discovered in airline terminals, nourished during long flights or bus trips. A real pot-boiler, spiced with ghastly scenes of blood and passionate romance. What a disappointment this movie is. Yes, there is Virginia Madsen, who is fully capable of rising to the stature of a Ludlum heroine, but she is given little to do. How odd that a worse writer, like Clancy (who can neither write nor think, and therefore is advising the Bush White House), has gotten much better treatment from the Hollywood gods. This is an incomprehensible, but predictable, muddle.
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