If you take a step back from the realistic locations and terse dialogue, Ridley Scott's "Body of Lies" is a James Bond plot inserted into today's headlines. The film wants to be persuasive in its expertise about modern spy craft, terrorism, the CIA and Middle East politics. But its hero is a lone ranger who operates in three countries, single-handedly creates a fictitious terrorist organization, and survives explosions, gunfights and brutal torture. Oh, and he falls in love with a local beauty. And of course he speaks Arabic well enough to pass for a local.
"Body of Lies" has almost everything - a top-notch director (Ridley Scott), major stars (Leonardo DiCaprio and Russell Crowe) and a compelling subject, counterterrorist espionage in the Middle East. The locations are exotic and dangerous, and they're presented with a feeling for the customs and behaviors of the people who live there.
Yet, all that can barely make up for the one thing "Body of Lies" lacks, a story that makes it feel personal. DiCaprio, as the American operative on the ground, cares about his job, but for at least two-thirds of the movie, nothing is on the line for him. The stakes are low and the direct consequences to him are minor. OK, so he cares. OK, so he sounds nervous and curses at his boss over a cell phone when things go bad. But his point of view remains distant, and so does the audience.
This makes for a movie experience in which the viewer sits patiently for about 45 minutes waiting for the story to kick in, only to realize, oh. So this is it. DiCaprio yelling into a cell phone. Russell Crowe, as his chubby, complacent boss, talking back calmly. And a few drum machines going to make it seem like something's happening that matters. This should have been a nail-biter. Instead, it plays like a slightly muddled intellectual exercise, illustrated by a few explosions.
Once that realization settles in and the accompanying mild despair is overcome, there are things to appreciate. Based on a novel by David Ignatius, the movie has two fairly compelling ideas that it keeps hammering over and over. The first is that the agents on the ground know a lot more than their comfortable superiors in Washington. The second is that the Washington bureaucrats, motivated by political concerns, give orders that are destructive in human terms, and counterproductive in strategic terms. They're screwing up the war on terror because they don't know anything and they don't care.
As Hoffman, the Washington-based boss, Crowe is the embodiment of everything the movie holds in contempt. On the surface, he's mild and rumpled, a middle-class father, living with his family in a cozy suburb, someone anybody might identify as a nice guy. But as he loads the groceries into the hatchback, he's talking into his headset, giving orders that cut the legs out from under allies and result in the deaths of innocent people. He is some variety of fanatic, perhaps a particularly American variety, one whose faith in his own virtue is so complete that he could commit any atrocity with a clear conscience.
The film is arranged as a series of disparate missions. If there's an overarching story, it has to do with the CIA's pursuit of a high-ranking terrorist, a pursuit aided by a Jordanian intelligence minister. Mark Strong plays the Jordanian official, and if you want to see an actor lift up a movie just by walking onto the screen, check out Strong's performance. Tall, impeccably dressed and with the self-command of a lord, Strong dominates the handful of scenes he's in. He's a character of conscience and refinement, set up in contrast to his slovenly American counterpart (Crowe).
In its overall outlook, "Body of Lies" is ideologically jumbled, but as a statement from our time, maybe that's appropriate. Even so, the movie is best in its little details: Ferris (DiCaprio) survives a terrorist bombing but has hard white bits of matter stuck in his arms that have to be removed. "Bone fragments," the doctor says. "Don't worry, not yours."
DiCaprio is a vital, engaging leading man - the lightweight pretty boy of his "Titanic" days is long gone - but throughout "Body of Lies" he's forced to do what Scott keeps doing with the camera, the editing and the soundtrack: He pushes. He tries to create drama through sheer intensity, but it's like stirring an empty pot. There's nothing there.
"Body of Lies" contains enough you can believe, or almost believe, that you wish so much of it weren't sensationally implausible. No one man can withstand such physical ordeals as Ferris undergoes in this film. Increasing numbers of thrillers seem to center on heroes who are masochists surrounded by sadists.