Film Reviews
By Nathaniel Bell

Uninspired by a True Story

“The Guardian,” a strictly by-the-numbers action film directed by Andrew Davis, plows through a sea of clichés to tell the story of a broken man's path to redemption. But there's no gravitas, no sense of inner struggle to lift it out of the commonplace. Consequently, the film's watery climax registers as hollow.

A stony-countenanced Kevin Costner plays Ben Randall, a highly decorated Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer (a “legend,” as members of the cast keep reminding us) haunted by a disastrous past mission. After being reassigned to teach at the “A” school for prospective rescue divers, he crosses paths with a cocky recruit, Jake Fischer (Ashton Kutcher) who reminds him of a younger version of himself.

The groundwork is laid for a pleasingly conventional film about generational conflict, but “The Guardian” is crippled by a stultifying pace—nearly half the film is composed of swim exercises broken by an occasional bar scene. The arbitrary romance between the unctuous Jake and a fetching elementary school teacher (Melissa Sagemiller) feels almost as fruitless as the one between Ben and his estranged wife (Sela Ward). The only relationship that matters, to the filmmakers and us, is the one between the soul-scarred pro and the determined young upstart.

Costner is an underrated actor whose graceful physicality speaks louder than his line readings. All he needs to do is just stand there looking stern and he commands your attention. Kutcher, cursed with frat-boy dopiness, has to work harder at his underwritten character, but he flares his nostrils mightily and even produces a few teardrops.

There's some nice footage of a frothy, foamy Bering Sea that bookends this overlong film (a numbing 136 minutes), but the nonstop swooping and diving wears you out. Movies like these have no business being over an hour and a half. The lurching, limping, wheezing rhythm of “The Guardian” is evidence enough.

Send me your opinions at nbell@netlistings.com