Frequent collaborators Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks (“Saving Private Ryan,” “Catch Me If You Can”) once again team up, this time with fellow Academy Award-winner Catherine Zeta- Jones, in an unlikely story about an Eastern European traveler who finds himself stranded indefinitely inside New York’s JFK airport following a military coup in his homeland that renders his passport invalid. Stanley Tucci and “Y Tu Mama Tambien”’s Diego Luna are also on board for this surprisingly flawed film that proves even the best of the best are fallible.
Sitting through “The Terminal,” it’s easy to relate to the main character, Viktor Navorski, who is stuck somewhere awfully boring (when was the last time anyone had fun at an airport?) for what feels like an eternity. What Viktor fails to grasp as the days turn into months inside the terminal, is that all he has to do to escape is walk out. While it’s doubtful many filmgoers will do just that, it’s safe to say that by the time the final credits roll lots of folks will be wishing they’d chosen a more lively destination.
There’s nothing truly objectionable about “The Terminal” — it’s well-acted and seems to have good intentions — but the plot points are so far-fetched that it’s nearly impossible to invest oneself in the story. An entire government collapsed while Viktor was in the air — sheesh, how far away is the fictional village of Krakozhia? Hard-ass airport official Frank Dixon (Tucci) can’t find a single European in JFK to translate when he interrogates Viktor? So he turns him loose in the terminal where Viktor instantly learns English, befriends a multi-ethnic band of brothers and chows fast food. C’mon, that’s nearly as hard to believe as Catherine Zeta-Jones’ stunning, neurotic stewardess falling for a frumpy foreign rube who sleeps on a cot at Gate 67.
We’re supposed to buy that everyone from the Homeland Security officers to the gals at the counter at Burger King (product placement is off the hook in this movie — guess we’re supposed to buy Whoppers, too) adopt Viktor as a sort of duty-free mascot, but let’s face it, even in pre-9/11 America, it’s impossible to believe that a scenario even remotely like the one upon which this film relies could ever exist. It’s this dubious premise that keeps “The Terminal,” like Viktor, stuck in airport limbo hell. (Rated PG-13 for brief language and drug references. Running time: 129 minutes)
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on June 18, 2004. Read the original PDF.