Bitter, Bad Cold

A few years ago, four or five, I saw the Pet Shop Boys in concert in Miami Beach. It was a good show, very enjoyable. They played in town on Wednesday again, and I received not one but two invitations to go see them, which I turned down – I’d already committed to seeing today’s big movie Whiteout, and it’s not like I’m that into them.

I so should’ve gone, for I know they would’ve entertained me a heckuva lot more.

Whiteout, starring Kate Beckinsale, whom I know deserves better having seen Nothing But the Truth (rent it, it’s good), is a below-average thriller that somehow lucked out of being a movie made for cable. Or worse…network.

Beckinsale, who’s clearly the garnish here (shame on the studio for dangling such a pretty carrot in front of men), plays Carrie Stetko, a U.S. Marshal stationed in Antarctica.

Girlfriend’s the only law enforcement in this unforgiving territory, and she’s about to go back to home when – uh oh, talk about baaad timing (you see, there’s a major whiteout coming) – she stumbles onto the icy continent’s first homicide.

The shocking discovery leads to an investigation that plunges the marshal into an even more bizarre mystery, and, of course, the revelation of secrets long-buried deep beneath the ice – secrets (i.e., treasures, natch) that someone believes are still worth killing for.

As Stetko races to find the killer before he finds her, winter already closes in – but, sadly, you’ll be too bored to give a frak.

Seriously, I’d be complaining if Whiteout had been a by-the-numbers joint, but that would’ve been preferable to the makes-no-sense mess it is.

Urgh, what a dumb movie.

This one will leave you cold for all the wrong reasons, so skip it.

My Rating *1/2

Photo: Warner Bros.