Hoffman and Hackman star and spar in Runaway Jury

There are two key ways to create suspense in a motion picture: one is using dramatic irony to gradually build up a general state of anxiety, and the other is extrapolating a situation where the characters know their exact surroundings, continuing to act much to the concern and apprehension of the audience.

Then there are the movies that do neither, yet still attempt to fit into the "suspenseful thriller" genre. Runaway Jury, the latest film adaptation of the John Grisham novel of the same name, is one of these sad flicks. It makes many exerted efforts to spur excitement, but fails at nearly every turn.

Taking a cue from so many other Grisham-inspired movies, Runaway Jury follows the trials and tribulations of one man, in this case Nick Easter (John Cusack), in his fight against a big, bad, evil law firm, usually made up of rich old white Southern men. In this particular instance, Nick is taking on the Big Gun Lobby by participating in a skewed version of jury tampering.

Not that he's alone in this endeavor, as the Vicksburg Gun Manufacturers (the obvious baddies in the film) have hired notorious "jury consultant" Rankin Fitch, played with perfect wickedness by Gene Hackman. Even the prosecution led by Dustin Hoffman, as Wendell Rohr, has hired a not-nearly-as-evil-but-still-sniveling jury consultant in Lawrence Green (Jeremy Piven). The film then degrades into a confusing bait-and-switch chase with Nick and his girlfriend Millie (Rachel Weisz) trying to squeeze money out of either side in exchange for a favorable verdict.

Nick and Millie's motive in this case is unclear until the very end of the film, at which point the audience is too frazzled to even care. Although it would seem obvious that a cool $10 million payment would be enough of a motive, screenwriter Brian Koppleman continually reminds his viewers that there is, illusively, 'something more'. Meanwhile, throughout the couple's ploys, Hackman and his staff of hard core privacy invaders search high and low for the couple's murky background for blackmail, looking for Nick's 'breaking point' so they can force him to turn the jury to a non-guilty verdict in the case. Yet Easter never appears the least bit concerned about his past being churned up, so why should the audience?

The basis for all of the blackmailing and overacting that typifies Runaway Jury is the case made against the gun lobby. Prosecutor Rohr is representing the widow of an investment banker slain in a mass-murder at his office, and they are blaming the gun manufacturers for encouraging illegal gun sales. The particulars of the case are very unclear, and serve almost as a Hitchcockian MacGuffin in that the verdict really shouldn't matter in the narrative of the film.

Notice the word "shouldn't". The CEO of the Vicksburg Gun Manufacturers, along with their lead attorney and Hackman's character, represent a vicious and despicable trio that is merely a part of the film's heavy handed, anti-NRA message. In the original Grisham novel, the nemeses were Big Tobacco; the filmmakers of Runaway Jury changed it to Big Guns in fear of being similar to The Insider, and besides, they make better villains.

One of the biggest advertising points for the producers of the movie was that this flick would be the first to feature acting legends Dustin Hoffman and Gene Hackman on the same billing, who have been friends since rooming together as amateur nobodies.

Unfortunately, though in the midst of excitement of this momentous casting, the producers realized that there was no scene between the two characters. So they wrote one in. And it shows. But it is worth it, as the incredible chemistry between them is the sole moment of cinematic excitement.

It's a shame the two big boys don't get as much screen time as their younger, sexier co-stars. Weisz, in spite of her beautiful figure, looks lost in her role as the aggressive blackmailer and Cusack is no better as his character never seems to have a bead on what is happening

The joy of other Grisham films was that the audience knew that the protagonist would win out in the end. Tom Cruise in The Firm and Matt Damon in The Rainmaker had equally weasely characters, but they had the confidence and charisma to pull off the roles. Cusack, in a failure that may not be entirely his fault, is usually two or three steps behind his enemies, where Cruise and Damon were much further ahead.

Runaway Jury may be more exciting to a less cynical viewer, but the blatant pro-gun control message sucks the life out of the film. Not even the stellar acting of two reliable work-horses can lift the movie out of the doldrums of this predictable courtroom drama.