Five survivors of a deadly plane crash are assigned to therapist Anne Hathaway (I know). Most are traumatised, one (Patrick Wilson) is giddy and euphoric and positively flirty. But something strange is happening; a creepy airline employee lurks in the shadows, the airline itself is denying the account of the eyewitnesses, and those eyewitnesses start disappearing.
So Passengers is part therapy drama, part paranoia thriller, with spooky elements of M. Night Shylaman. But Girl in the Water M. Night, not Sixth Sense. And that, dear readers, is why it all starts to go wrong. We’ve seen all of this before somewhere, and the mixing of genres therefore comes across as clumsy rather than inspired. And although the saving grace is an excellent cast, I just couldn’t really get beyond Anne Hathaway as a therapist. She’s about as confidence-instilling a trauma councillor as Cher Horowitz.
On the location side, it was interesting to see Vancouver as Vancouver for once. In fact I’m so inured to the fact that Vancouver (Hollywood North) always plays stand in that I first thought that signage in the background saying British Columbia Mills was actually a blooper, left behind by some third rate art department.