Flightplan

Baffling, plodding, dull. These are not adjectives one would normally associate with a thriller, but the makers of Flightplan decided to give it a go anyway.
For their mediocre purposes, Jodie Foster reprises the mommy-in-peril from Panic Room in the slightly less confined setting of an airplane cabin. She also happens to be an aviation designer – the aviation designer responsible for the very craft on which the inertia unfolds. Make a note of that. It might come in useful later.
When her six year-old daughter mysteriously disappears mid-flight, Jodie takes to charging about, shrieking at the air marshal (Sarsgaard), the saucer-eyed flight attendant (Beehan), the captain (Bean, doing his best Sandhurst) and anyone else unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. This goes on for an hour of screen time but it did, to be fair, seem much longer.
Whatever can have happened? Has the daughter been kidnapped? Is the daughter a ghost? Is everyone onboard a ghost? Is Charlton Heston flying the plane now? The truth, it transpires, is much stupider than that. Never mind. By the time you get around to the convoluted explanation, you’ll be too bored to care, not to mention disenchanted with the thoroughly horrible cast of characters..
If that doesn’t sound quite unappealing enough, Flightplan also doubles up as an apologia for the Bush administration. Sure, everyone thinks Jodie’s crazy when, during the course of the film, she assaults that Arab guy. And when she insists that everyone aboard be detained, the passengers grumble, not appreciating the gravity of the situation. Sure, she seems obnoxious but she gets things done for Chrissake.
Not Foster’s finest hour. Not Sarsgaard’s. And he was in The Skeleton Key.