My primary concern when we fired up Flightplan, Jodie Foster's new thriller, was that it would be a half-assed adaptation of Crichton's best novel, imvho, Airframe. (Go. Read. Enjoy.)
But, thankfully, it's just a nice thriller that uses Agatha Christie's "Strangers on a Train" closed-environment device, in that: "How can a child disappear from a flight while it's still in the air?" Indeed, how. Fire up that popcorn and find out.
Is there a more perfect movie star than Jodie Foster? I mean, you just can't look away when she's on the screen. Mesmerizing is the word. She could be telling me personally that my ass was on fire, and it'd take a moment for it to dawn on me that I needed to pull my attention away and douse my tush. (Perhaps that explains a bit about Ronnie's close call.)
Heck, she even almost sold Nell. ("Tay ina win!") Unless you had some ingénue spend half the film naked (don't get your hopes up for a remake, Michael), no one would've bothered to watch. I think that speaks for itself.
Many critics and pundits have dissed Flightplan because there's a supposed implausibility to the story, which even I - Mr. Can Suspend Disbelief Better Than Anyone - figured out as the credits rolled. Well, the more I've thought about it, the more I can see it's just a matter of accepting that it could happen, and it really could. We've all seen stranger things happen. (If you're curious, I'll spell it out in the first comment, so don't look if you don't wanna know.)
I thought it was great fun.