SOMETIMES I IMAGINE crawling into the brain of a typical Hollywood screenwriter... you know... just to see what the fuck they're thinking. But I'm deathly afraid that, if I were to peer inside the minds behind Non-Stop? I'd see a deep, endless abyss from which there can be no escape. However! Deep inside that bottomless pit of despair, there might be a tiny speck of light. Maybe it would be... the face of Liam Neeson! And he would say, "Come in! Come in! I'm Liam Neeson! Seriously, how terrible could this movie be?"
As it turns out? So terrible.
In Non-Stop, Liam plays a damaged, aging (and...bonus points...drunk!) air marshal on a transatlantic flight who's befuddled to discover that someone on the plane plans on killing a passenger every 20 minutes, unless they're paid $150 million. (So much for Liam's plans to read Sky Mall!)
Luckily for him, Julianne Moore is his adorable, plucky, age-appropriate seatmate, and Mary from Downton Abbey is his serious but capable flight attendant. Unfortunately, there are some suspicious racial types on board (who—don't worry—turn out to be perfectly nice and human!), as well as a sad little girl who serves as an emotional substitute for Liam's own daughter, who we later learn was murdered by leukemia. (Insert sad face emoticon here.)
Needless to say there are many needless and confusing twists and turns, and several unsuccessful attempts at creating "tension"—even when leukemia-substitute girl almost falls out of the plane! I'm kind of ashamed to say I laughed at that part. (But! It was a mirthless laugh!)
Anyway, by the end of the movie I still wasn't exactly sure what transpired, or why my soul felt so drained—but isn't that what happens when you stare too deeply into the Liam Neeson abyss?