Ugh. My only regret is I can't get my money back. Busey has this stupified expression all through the film making you wonder if he had had sober or clean moment while making this dog. Michael Paré (who?) likewise goes through his motions like he were a wooden version of the tinman from the Oz books. Between him and Busey they're able to generate about as much emotion as two dogs barking at each other through closed windows from two cars parked next to each other in a noisy parking lot. Then, there're the girls (what girls?) The over-neglected wives generate about as much sympathy as two toadstools (for my part, I could understand quite easily why these guys stayed away at their jobs all the time). Wendii Fulford's hooker with the cute fanny who confronts Mr. Good Guy Underneath-That-Killer-Exterior Busey is about as believable as the Easter Bunny. And, that was the good part! Now, we come to the story which uses every time-worn(out) cliché: secret government plots, ruthless, uncaring "killing machines," mindless dedication to duty, chase scenes where the chaser knows where his quarry is going because he was trained by him and "knows how he thinks..." The other reviewer remarks this was bad, "...even for a Canadian movie." Well, I've seen some Canadian movies, Jesus of Montreal and Black Robe come to mind, that were quite decent. This film is best left on the rental shelf. In fact, even if you get it for free, the rental will still be overpriced.
