Movie review: '88 Minutes' runs 108 minutes too long

The "Freeze, turkey" moment is a staple of cop movies, the dramatic moment when a lawman brandishing badge and gun brings a suspect to a screeching halt. If "88 Minutes" is remembered for nothing else, it will be a footnote in movie history for the sight of Al Pacino waving his ID at a startled motorist and barking, "I'm a forensic psychologist with the FBI. Show me your hands!"

Preposterous in design, abysmal in execution and laugh-out-loud funny when it's straining for drama, the film doesn't even honor the lean-and-mean promise of its title. While its framework is a real-time race to stop a maniacal killer, the movie is a bloated 105 minutes long. If your hopes for a quick, merciful exit rise when the villain taunts "You have 42 minutes left," you're in for a letdown. There's more to come, unfortunately.

Pacino, his eyeballs popping like ping-pong balls and his hair tortured into a ridiculous soufflé, plays Jack Gramm, a Seattle psychology professor with a sideline as a consultant in cases involving serial killers. He played a key role in putting away Jon Forster (Neal McDonough) for the elaborate upside-down bondage killing of a beautiful Asian girl.

Nine years later, as Forster faces execution, an identical murder is committed, casting doubt on his guilt. And a raspy-throated villain (Jigsaw from the "Saw" series taking in a little side work, unless my ears deceive me) tells Gramm he has just 88 minutes left to live because of his role in Forster's conviction.

Pacino spends the rest of the film gunning his silver Porsche around town and barking urgently into his cell phone, while sinister characters try to eliminate him with bombs, arson and gunfire.

The film is peppered with attractive actresses who play Gramm's postgrad students, office staff and college dean. They are ludicrously hot, mostly smitten with Pacino's character, and at least half a head taller than the star. Several are murdered in the mysterious killer's signature hung-from-the-heels manner. They're a fitting image for a film that is topsy-turvy and dead on arrival.

Colin Covert • 612-673-7186