It’s true that “Tell No One,” has a dandy set-up: a doctor’s wife was murdered eight years before. Her body was identified by her father, autopsied, and the husband cleared of the crime for which no one was ever prosecuted. It’s eight years later and he’s laboriously put the pieces of his life back together, when he gets an e-mail with an attachment.
When he opens it, the video clip shows his wife, in some public space, staring at the surveillance camera.
And we’re off.
Although “Tell No One” is a French movie, it doesn’t particularly feel French, partially because the star looks exactly like Dustin Hoffman’s younger brother, partially because it’s based on a novel by the American Harlan Coben where things keep happening.
Unfortunately, as is often the case when a truly original mystery premise is on offer, when the final explanation comes, it’s completely preposterous – far too complicated and dependent on coincidence, never could never have happened in a million years.
And the filmmakers missed an opportunity – the lead’s profession as doctor never comes into play, while his apparent skills as a marathon runner are.
But if you’re not a stickler for verisimilitude in your thrillers, “Tell No One” is worth two hours of your time. It has a great foot chase across a busy freeway, it has a couple of truly nasty villains, and it even has a dash of two of hard core violence. (It also has an unusually funky blues-rock soundtrack that shouldn’t work but does.)
I’m not entirely sure that we need French movies that try to be American movies, but “Tell No One” is at least trying to be a good American movie, and for that I’m grateful.
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