Frantic

Though not quite the crackerjack thriller promised by its title, Frantic is nevertheless a solid, consistently entertaining piece of work that boasts a typically stellar performance from Harrison Ford. The film casts Ford as Richard Walker, an American in Paris whose minor annoyance at grabbing the wrong suitcase from the airport escalates substantially after his wife (Betty Buckley’s Sondra) mysteriously vanishes from their hotel room. It’s an inherently engrossing premise that is, at the outset, employed to electrifying effect by Roman Polanski, as the director does a superb job of immediately luring the viewer into the proceedings and wringing suspense out of seemingly innocuous happenings. (In terms of the latter, there’s a great shot in which Ford’s character showers while his wife receives an ominous phone call in the background.) It’s only as Richard embarks on an investigation that takes him deeper and deeper into Paris’ seedy underworld (and pairs him up with Emmanuelle Seigner’s mysterious Michelle) that Frantic begins to lose some of its momentum, with Polanski’s meandering sensibilities ensuring that the film’s midsection is, for the most part, not quite as taut as it should be. The compelling nature of Richard’s ongoing efforts, combined with the periodic inclusion of suspenseful interludes, proves effective at sustaining the viewer’s interest even through the movie’s more demonstrably overlong stretches, and there’s little doubt that the whole thing picks up substantially with the arrival of a fast-paced, thoroughly exciting third act – which ultimately cements Frantic‘s place as an erratically-paced yet engaging thriller.

*** out of ****