88 Minutes

Try as he might to "hoo-ha" some life into this stupendously stupid thriller, Al Pacino can't disguise the desperation of this CSI wanna-be. As Jack Gramm, an FBI forensic shrink who also teaches at a Seattle university, Pacino must ward off a horny student (Alicia Witt), a serial killer (Neal McDonough) on death row who arranges a string of copycat murders to win a reprieve, and a mystery caller who warns him he has only eighty-eight minutes to live. Sounds like a full day, what with Jack's semen found in the vaginal cavity of a murdered call girl. But I'm guessing it's the pressure of an idiot script by Gary Scott Thompson and understandably clueless direction from Jon Avnet that forces Pacino to ham it up so vigorously that you want to garnish him with cloves and a slice of pineapple.

From The Archives Issue 253: December 1, 1977
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