Dead-Bang

John Frankenheimer's (The Manchurian Candidate) new action film is kind of like a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich. Don Johnson as homicide detective Jerry Beck provides the ham (an alternate title for the movie could have been L.A. Vice), and the plot, which borrows the ludicrous central theme of last year's Betrayed (i.e. white supremacists are being backed by corporate conglomerates), is holier than the Shroud of Turin. When a punk kid blows away a black store owner and a policeman, down-on-his-luck gumshoe Beck gives chase across the U.S. He's able to track the killer, who supposedly has an I.Q. of 130--but acts as if he regularly has electroshock therapy for breakfast--because the genius left behind a map which outlines his complete itinerary, including the dates, no less. Periodically, the two meet at various watering holes for racists and have an inconclusive shootout--until the grand finale when someone actually bites the bullet (guess who?). A paltry effort from a once solid director. Not recommended. (R. Pitman)