Hideaway

This second feature from director Brett Leonard is a definite improvement over his first. The man who brought us last year's The Lawnmower Man (which, oddly enough, became something of a hit, thanks in part to its cutting-edge computer animation and cyberpunk theme) has discovered the magic of characterization this time out, but with a bigger budget. He also succumbs to overkill in the animation department (once again). Based upon the bestseller by cookie-cutter suspense novelist Dean R. Koontz, Hideaway tells the story of Hatch Harrison (Goldblum), a devoted family man who is killed in a traffic accident one night and, after two hours on “the other side,” is subsequently brought back to life by physicians. Once back in the swing of things, Hatch begins having nightmares in which he apparently sees through the eyes of a serial killer as the madman dispatches various young girls around town. Convinced that her husband is going mad, Hatch's wife Lindsey (Lahti, in a severely underwritten role), returns with him to the doctors, where he is subjected to CAT-scans and other, less cheerful, medical tests. Pronounced sound in mind and body, Hatch, now desperate for answers, consults a spiritualist who confirms his worst suspicions: When he returned from the dead, he apparently didn't come back alone. Now it's up to Hatch himself to locate and capture the killer before (as I'm sure the original pitch went) “it's too late.” Leonard is much more sure about himself this time out, and as a result, Hideaway is much more fluid than its predecessor. Filled with startling images, angles, and much blue and red lighting (perhaps a tip of the hat to Dario Argento), Leonard unfortunately falls prey to the aforementioned overkill: There's just too much computer-assisted animation and needless running about in the film. After a certain point, the viewer is left winded and gasping and irritable, if not from the director's constant cross-cutting, then from the overly loud soundtrack, which, while containing some of my own personal favorite bands, doesn't seem to know when to shut up. Goldblum admirably restrains himself, playing the father figure with less than his usual complement of twitches and mutterings, but Lahti -- and especially Chong -- seem wasted in their half-written roles. It's certainly the best adaptation of a Koontz novel yet, but then, that's really not saying very much, is it?