“Density,” reckons Ridley Scott, is what drew him to this adaptation of
Not that Body Of Lies is lacking thrill value. As a CIA agent sent over to
The movie’s message spins out from the tension between Crowe’s backstage callousness and Leo’s frontline-forged conscience: as Ignatius argues in a sharp interview, it’s about how
Shame, then, that William Monahan’s script and Scott’s direction muddy that understanding. The tangled plot plays less like “density” than a mess. Explosions substitute for real tension and when SUVs whip up dust to muddy a surveillance system, a metaphor for the film is implied. Granted, the brash and confidently acted result is never less than watchable. Memorable, though? Enlightening? They’d be porkies.