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Swordfish is a superficial movie, so let's address the superficial facts: Halle Berry was well paid to bare her breasts in this gratuitous cyber-action thriller, and while Berry's many fans will enjoy a cheap drool at the actress's expense, her brief topless scene doesn't justify this insipid parade of glossy violence from the director of 2000's
Gone in 60 Seconds. Add yet another notch in John Travolta's bad-movie belt, and you've got Hollywood bankruptcy in full blossom. Go ahead, marvel at director Dominic Sena's biggest money shot--a 360-degree pan as a robbery hostage is blown to bits by a bomb that pelts a surrounding SWAT squad with deadly ball bearings.
The plot, as if it matters: Travolta's a slick, self-appointed antiterrorist who recruits a top-flight computer hacker (Hugh Jackman) to transfer a $9.5 billion government slush fund into a cluster of secret accounts. Berry's the curvaceous bait who lures Jackman into the scheme; Don Cheadle's an FBI agent hot on their tails; and an obligatory subplot turns Jackman's daughter (Camryn Grimes) into an innocent bargaining chip. By the time a hostage transport bus is airlifted in the film's not-so-thrilling climax, Swordfish will hold your passive attention or put you to sleep--it all depends on your tolerance for Sena's brand of derivative bloodlust. It's pornography of a sort, and efficiently mechanical, but you can bet good money that Berry and her costars didn't cash their paychecks proudly. --Jeff Shannon
For about an hour, it's nasty fun. John Travolta, looking like something from "The Planet of the Apes," is a shadowy fanatical patriot who terrorizes innocent people to prove to professional terrorists how tough he will be on them (or something like that); Hugh Jackman is a rather brawny hacker employed by Travolta; Halle Berry, not invariably clothed, is the lure that keeps Jackman in place. The screenplay, by Skip Woods, consists of a series of erotic taunts; the action, directed by Dominic Sena, is preposterous but entertaining. Somewhere along the line, however, the plot becomes so far-fetched, and the digital effects and violence so opportunistic, that one loses interest. The digitally innocent will be excited by shots of a helicopter toting a bus through the buildings of downtown Los Angeles. Produced by the veteran summer-season sledgehammer Joel Silver. -David Denby
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker
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