Ebert has his thumb, others use stars, I've noticed my body language has a vote of its own. If a film is good you sit in your seat unaware of anything other than the optical splendors on the screen in front of you. Once the movie gets iffie, you start to fidget. You can't find a comfortable spot on your seat, your back hurts. Watching Jonathon Demme's new movie "The Truth About Charlie" I felt I was perched on a bed of nails that got sharper as the movie wore on.

Not that the movie is all bad. There are some nice moments and with time I bet I could think of at least one. But on the whole, the story is only marginally interesting, it's hardly a thriller since it's pretty clear what is going on from start to end. Thandie

Jonathon Demme's camera techniques liberally employ the latest trends of Tony Scott in Spy Game and Baz Luhrman in Moulin Rouge among others that rush around the mise-en-scene not allowing us to focus on the action before being taken on a roller-coaster ride that wings and swirls us around mercilessness and, in my opinion, needlessly.

Of course, there may be something in me that rebels against this movie on every level. The Truth About Charlie is a remake of the 1963 film Charade. In that classic Audrey Hepburn is elegant and beautiful, Cary Grant warm and amusing in his last great role. The chemistry between the two is magic and the film dances between romantic comedy and mystery. Then there are the great supporting roles, particularly Walter Mattau and James Coburn.

The Truth about Charlie, on the other hand, is clunky. Thandie Newton plays the lead role of Regie, who, upon returning from a vacation discovers that her husband has been killed. Suddenly a widow, she has a lot to learn about her husband, hence the title.

Mark Wahlberg plays Regie's new love interest Joshua Peters (Cary Grant's character was Peter Joshua) who just happens to pop up everywhere to give Regie a hand in solving her problem. In fact, he pops up so often it's just plain ridiculous, making him look more like a stalker rather than a romantic interest.

I found the Truth About Charlie to be a marathon of endurance to get to the end. Thandie Newton was average, Wahlberg dull and Tim Robbins plain creepy. It's moderately interesting to see Charles Aznavour sing over the credits, but it's not worth the 104 minutes of torture to get to that point. Rent Charade, avoid Charlie, and that's the truth.


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