In Connery it has a hero who is inescapably appealing.

Despite its merits, the script fails to escape the silly season that fouls up so many thrillers, that time when the twists merely seem like the narrative equivalents of those violin shrieks on a cheesy score.

It doesn't bog down in the bogs, but it's slow-moving just about everyplace else.

This has one of cinema's most ridiculously overwrought car chase relative to its general plot and pacing. It also has Ed Harris extracting every nutrient from this 100-calorie snack pack, which is entertaining unto itself.