What Lies Beneath

I won't be giving away any plot secrets if I reveal that the most dramatic moment in this glossy yet inane thriller involves a protracted close-up of human toes. Said digits may actually be the most original element director Robert Zemeckis (Forrest Gump, Contact) tosses into his MacGuffin-stuffed hybrid of Fatal Attraction and The Sixth Sense.

Michelle Pfeiffer is solid and sympathetic as the ridiculously self-sacrificing wife of a grumpy academic bigwig (a risible Harrison Ford) who discovers she's channeling the vengeful spirit of a missing student (Amber Valletta). Zemeckis crams every horror-movie ruse -- nightly rain, a creepy neighbor, a rambling house, a dearth of lamps, a foggy lakeside locale, you name it -- into what amounts to Me, Myself & Some Dead Chick. It all gets the adrenaline coursing, but the "Boo!" barrage never feels particularly perilous, just manipulative and contrived. Same for the film's attempts to rile women's anger with an allegorical subtext of female repression and revenge. A stupid, action-packed movie that advocates the all-men-are-dicks theory? We just may have found this summer's Double Jeopardy. At the Harbour Mall, Hoyts Providence Place 16, Opera House, Showcase, Tri-Boro, and Woonsocket cinemas.
-- Alicia Potter