There are brief moments when you think that just maybe this "Bourne" wannabe will take off. But it never does. And for all kinds of reasons: In every scene, the trite musical score instructs exactly how we're supposed to feel, and during those scenes when we're meant to feel gooey and happy for the lovers, the music's cloying sweetness makes your teeth rot. The schmaltzy and chaste (and exposition-laden) romance scenes make you squirm with embarrassment. And how do we learn that the tough-guy protagonist really does have a heart of gold? Well, he tells his girl that a kitten is his favorite memory of growing up. (Really. A kitten.) Not content to leave it at that, we are subjected to a treacly flashback in which a boy and a kitten emote in an epilogue that just goes on and on.
The casting is off too. Our Bourne-like super agent, supposedly a native New Yorker, is played by a thoroughly uncharismatic actor who speaks English with a Japanese accent. ("Rain Fall" seems to have been made for the Japanese market where this would go unnoticed.) And the big "surprise" that comes near the end is utter logical nonsense.
There's even cheesy product-placement: A Midori sign hangs in the front window of what is supposed to be the Village Vanguard, a jazz club in Greenwich Village. (Yessir, melon-flavored Japanese liqueur is the beverage of choice in every smoky downtown New York bar.)
And then there's Gary Oldman, who's clearly in it just for the coin, and who chews up the scenery and spits it out in every frame he's in. His acting shows all the subtlety and finesse of a runaway freight train in what is surely the hands-down worst performance of his career. It is so hilariously bad, that it's good, which may be the only reason to watch this turkey.