Billy Crudup plays a Coast Guard officer bound for Vietnam; Jennifer Connelly, a peacenik. Naturally they fall in love. Hey, its the '60s. When she's killed in a car bombing, he goes on to a conventional political career. Years later Connelly starts haunting Crudup: phone calls, glimpses on the street. Is he hallucinating? Or was the bombing a pretext, letting her slip deeper into the radical underground? We never really know--or care. That's partly because of the inept production design (Montreal is visibly not New York City or Chicago), partly because of the flat direction and writing (also Gordon's). It's time...
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