Carrie Stetko (Kate Beckinsale), a U.S. Marshal stationed at a remote research station in Antarctica, is two days from rotating back to the States when the body of a murdered researcher is discovered on the ice. As she works to uncover the identity of the killer, Stetko uncovers a conspiracy that has its roots in the past and finds herself next on the murderer’s hit list.

CRITIQUE

Back in 1998 a little comic book entitled Whiteout hit the stands. Written by Greg Rucka and illustrated by Steve Lieber, it told the tale of a fiercely intelligent, fiercely determined U.S. Marshal named Carrie Stetko, who works to solve a murder at an Antarctic research station.

The odds are against her; not only is a months-long period of complete darkness about to descend on the bottom of the world (if the case isn’t closed within two days, Stetko will be stuck on the ice for another six months), but she’s hated by the predominantly male population of the station, who don’t want her around and don’t feel compelled to help her out in any way.

Lieber’s Zip-a-Tone-tinged black-and-white artwork perfectly captured the desolation and dangers of the setting, and while Rucka’s plot didn’t break any new ground, the lead character he created more than made up for the story’s familiar elements. The book was nominated for several awards and was followed up with a sequel a few years later. It came as no surprise when Hollywood snapped up the rights to the comic, and it’s no surprise that the comic was completely screwed up in translation.

Everything that really set the comic apart is nowhere to be found in the movie. Instead of the tough, smart, independent Stetko of the book, the movie offers up a bland, paint-by-numbers heroine. The Stetko of the comics doesn’t take crap from anybody; the Stetko of the movie takes...showers. Yep, showers. Less than ten minutes in and Beckinsale is stripping down to her skivvies, sticking her ass in the camera, and then luxuriating in a steamy shower. (I don’t know about you, but I find there’s no better barometer of a female character’s tenacity than how long she spends running her fingers through her own wet mop of hair.)

So right off the bat you know something’s wrong. And it gets worse, too, although those unfamiliar with the source material won’t be aware of exactly how worse it is. The comic had Stetko teaming up with a female British intelligence agent to solve the murder, which quite naturally made the male population of the station even more furious (there was also a good deal of tension between Stetko and her new partner, which added more wrinkles to the story), but here she’s saddled with an equally bland male counterpart (played by Gabriel Macht, who played the title role in The Spirit, meaning he’s been in two royally botched comic-to-movie endeavors in as many years). And wouldn’t you know it, there’s a romantic undertone to their relationship, which reaches its nadir when a plagued-by-doubt Beckinsale finds the will to go on after Macht looks longingly into her eyes and tells her she’s strong. Oh, brother...

Dulling the lead character is a killing blow to this story, but the filmmakers don’t stop there. They kick around the corpse by presenting the mystery itself in a manner so devoid of energy and suspense you almost have to wonder why they even bothered in the first place. The script, credited to Jon and Erich Hoeber and Chad and Carey W. Hayes (the Hayes brothers have been churning out dreck for producer Joel Silver’s Dark Castle Entertainment for several years now, including House of Wax and The Reaping), supplies an unnecessary (and quite stupid) prologue, which spoils a big part of the mystery far too early.

There’s an overabundance of flashbacks (most of them silly), including flashbacks within flashbacks, flashbacks to moments the characters haven’t witnessed and should therefore have no knowledge or recollection of, and even one scene that includes flashbacks to the preceding scene. And it all winds down to an incredibly ho-hum, anticlimactic finale, which is so underwhelming you may not even realize it is the finale.

All of this is orchestrated and assembled by director Dominic Sena (the man behind the awful Gone in 60 Seconds remake, which is easily one of the most boring action movies ever produced) in an incredibly boring and lethargic manner. Combine the total lack of anything of interest with a glacial pace and you end up with a movie that seems longer than Berlin Alexanderplatz and slower than Reds. No wonder this thing sat on the shelf for the better part of two years. Too bad it didn’t stay there.

THE VIDEO

The 2.40:/1080p transfer--encoded with VC-1 onto a 25 GB disc--isn’t much. I don’t know what’s inherent in the original photography (like most people, I didn’t catch this one during its theatrical run) and what’s the result of a faulty encode, but I do know the presentation is lacking. Blacks are often impenetrable, swallowing anything they touch. Detail is middling, only impressing in extreme close-ups. There’s a desaturated, slightly flat look to much of the color palette, but this does seem to be intentional.

THE AUDIO

At least the Dolby TrueHD 5.1 track delivers. Exteriors are dominated by winds that whip throughout the entire soundstage, and interiors have a claustrophobic character that is very effective. There’s not much in the way of low bass action, but what little there is can push quite deep (it may be unnecessary, but the opening sequence certainly sounds great). Dialogue generally sounds good, but--surprise, surprise--it does get overwhelmed at times. And although it bears enough resemblance to Jerry Goldsmith’s Total Recall score to invite litigation, John Frizzell’s music is nicely represented. English, French, and Spanish Dolby Digital 5.1 tracks are also included; English SDH, French, and Spanish subtitles are available.

THE EXTRAS

The Coldest Thriller Ever (12 minutes, HD) is your standard promotional/making-of piece. (Here’s the gist: the Canadian locations were very cold.)

Whiteout: From Page to Screen (12 minutes, HD) focuses on Greg Rucka and Steve Lieber, who discuss the origins of the comic and the joy of seeing their creation turned into a feature film. (Both men have publicly praised the movie, but I get the feeling they’re being diplomatic.)

Also including is a collection of deleted scenes (4 minutes, SD), viewable only in one lump.

A second disc houses a digital copy of the movie.

FINAL THOUGHTS