The Suicide Manual.
A reporter acquires a copy of a DVD called The Suicide Manual which details the pros and cons of different ways of committing suicide. He tries to contact the mysterious Rickie who seems to have a hand in various suicides. Our man’s sidekick is Chisato Morishita who, the last time I saw her, was dressed as meringue that was lacking sartorial taste. Since this is a Japanese film, it’s not long before you start getting supernatural mumbo-jumbo with suicides being blamed on the spirits of those who have committed suicide possessing people and causing them to kill themselves.
It seems that Chisato has a thing for her colleague, but he was ignoring her so she killed herself. Or something. I rather lost interest (which would never have happened if they’d got Chisato into a sexy bikini). The note on the cover says (in English):
I’m not sure the film exactly warns against suicide, although it doesn’t encourage them to do so. I think, however, that the warning should’ve read
Mark Wahlberg is a former army sniper who’s been in retirement for several years when he’s asked to act asd a consultant to protect the President. Instead, he finds himself set up by some very unpleasant people in the government, and only has a drippy new FBI agent to help clear his name.
It’s all done by the numbers – corrupt politician; nameless secret agencies; girl with rather nice boobs who doesn’t wear a bra in one scene; and a creepy psycho type who gets his arm shot off.
The logo on the plastic sleeve is, by chance, positioned so that the name of the film appears to be Hooter.
It’s a surfeit of clichés all round in this conspiracy thriller that either paid Al Pacino’s alimony, mortgage, or bought him a new BMW. Can’t imagine why anyone of his alleged stature would want to waste their time on a film like this one.
In the end, it was the lawyer disguised as a student what done it, but it was all for love. I guess that makes it all right then.