Spielberg strikes a Capra-esque tone, but 'The Terminal' never really takes off

For years, Steven Spielberg has been saying that he wanted to make a "Frank Capra movie" -- a comedy like "Meet John Doe" or "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" that criticizes the American system in the process of wildly affirming it. "The Terminal" appears to be that movie.

MOVIE REVIEW

THE TERMINAL

DIRECTOR: Steven Spielberg

CAST: Tom Hanks, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Stanley Tucci

RUNNING TIME: 121 minutes

RATING: PG-13 for brief language and drug references

WHERE: Bella Bottega 11, Cinema 17, East Valley 13, Edmonds, Factoria, Galleria 11, Grand Cinemas, Guild 45th, Issaquah 9, Kirkland Parkplace 6, Longston Place 14, Meridian 16, Monroe 12, Mountlake 9, Parkway Plaza 12, Valley Drive-in, Woodinville 12

GRADE: B

It stars Tom Hanks (at his most pooh-bear, Jimmy Stewart adorable) as an average man with a glow of innocence and a small but noble personal dream that's being trampled upon by the bureaucratic injustices and petty minions of the U.S. democracy. He's Viktor Navorski, an exceedingly nice guy from the mythical Eastern European country of Krakozhia who speaks almost no English and lands at New York's JFK Airport just as a coup has overthrown his nation's leadership, and it "officially no longer exists."

Thus, by the (never very convincing) logic of the script, he's trapped in the terminal. His passport, visa and return ticket are confiscated, and the by-the-book immigration officials won't allow him to enter the city or return to Krakozhia.

So the movie tells how he survives in this limbo: picking up English, finding ways to earn money, joining the family of terminal employees, butting heads with its administrator (Stanley Tucci) and falling in love with a ditzy flight attendant (Catherine Zeta-Jones).

In a way, it's a remake of "Castaway," with Hanks the prisoner of an airport instead of a deserted island. Only this version doesn't have that film's dark edges, and its protagonist is much more finely honed to be an ingratiating showcase for the Hanks persona.

Indeed, as a star vehicle the movie is hard to fault. It may even be the definitive Hanks role. He's delightfully wonky, outstandingly decent and as resourceful as a whole troop of Boy Scouts -- and his character is filtered through a cute accent that amplifies his nobility of spirit.

And the film essentially works as comedy and drama. It never gets any big laughs or major lumps in the throat, but it sparks throughout, and it maintains a lightness of being that's just the right tone for a Capra-esque entertainment about a little guy triumphing over an impersonal system.

As always with Spielberg, the film is technically state-of-the-art, immaculately composed and beautifully shot in what's said to be one of the biggest single sets of modern movie times -- an entire airport terminal (in which the director was able to orchestrate an orgy of product placements).

Yet, as well made, entertaining and seductive a showcase for Hanks as it is, the movie doesn't have a magical impact and doesn't stay with you. And while you're watching it, there's always some slight annoyance, inconsistency or motivational-lapse to slap your face in almost every scene.

Even more problematic, it never makes us believe this dilemma could actually happen. The Tucci villain is just too one-dimensional to be credible, and Viktor's conflict with him always seems contrived: With all of JFK's immense resources, they couldn't come up with one Krakozhian interpreter? In a whole year?

In his youth, Spielberg was a very careful filmmaker, but a glaring inattention to detail has crept into his scripts as he has grown older. This sloppiness doesn't dominate the movie (as it did "The Lost World: Jurassic Park"), but it sure keeps it from getting anywhere near the greatness to which it so clearly aspires.