Based on John LeCarré's popular novel, The Tailor of Panama is a clumsy spy flick that fits like a bad suit.  It's a bit more sophisticated than a James Bond film but without the gadgets or the pyrotechnics, which is kind of like ordering a chicken sandwich with mayo and asking the waiter to hold the chicken. Tailor is receiving mostly glowing marks from critics around the country, but I have a suspicion that their praise has more to do with the crappy teen flicks that have populated 2001's calendar than the film's actual merit.

Pierce Brosnan (The World is Not Enough) stars as Osnard, an overly ambitious, womanizing British spy who has been relegated to Panama after dipping his wick where it didn't belong.  His assignment is to befriend a person of power in Panama City in an attempt to learn whether the government plans on selling the Panama Canal to a country that the U.S. and Britain aren't particularly fond of (the opening credits feature a weird history lesson on the Canal).  Osnard is given a list of about 200 Brits living in Panama and, after quickly scanning the roster of names and occupations, immediately chooses a tailor over the dozens of lawyers, bankers and politicians you'd think would be a better source of information.

But ol' Osnard is a crafty little devil.  He figures the revered tailor to be the perfect mole, as he has regular contact with the country's movers and shakers.  Osnard also learns that Harry (Geoffrey Rush, Quills) has the added benefit of being an ex-con with a secret past who is in hock up to his eyeballs, as well as a wife (Jamie Lee Curtis, Drowning Mona) who is an assistant to a high-ranking government employee.  Osnard feeds Harry thick envelopes full of cash, and Harry gives Osnard information about the sale of the Canal.  The catch is that he's making it all up.  A tailor weaving a fake story – get it?  It's funny.

There are supposed to be a bunch of twists and turns in Tailor, but nothing too surprising happens as the actors go through the same motions we've seen over and over again in films of this genre.  Also detracting from potential entertainment is the fact that there isn't anyone to root for in the film. One character says Panama is "Casablanca without the heroes," an obvious poke at the picture's lack of a protagonist, which illustrates Tailor's other big problem – its tongue is planted too far in its cheek and it can't decide whether it wants to be serious or silly.  One thing is for sure – it ain't either.

Brosnan seems like he's having fun playing Bond's alter ego here.  His Osnard is a sleazy pussyhound who even gets a sexy dance scene just like the one in The Thomas Crown Affair.  Rush, who is always better when he's cast in subtle roles like this (as opposed to, say, Quills, Mystery Men or House on Haunted Hill), does well as the harried, slightly delusional suitmaker who converses with his dead uncle (playwright Harold Pinter) during particularly stressful moments.  Curtis basically reprises her oh-my-God-my-husband-is-a-spy! role from True Lies (although, at times, it's hard to tell if she or Rush has more testosterone pumping through them). Brendan Gleeson (M:I-2) is nearly unrecognizable as a bearded drunk who may or may not be running a group in opposition of the sale of the Canal that may or may not be taking place.  And look out for little Daniel Radcliffe; he plays Harry's son here, but in a few months, he'll be portraying Harry himself – Harry Potter, that is.

Tailor is mostly unsatisfying, especially since it's John Boorman's follow-up to the brilliant film The General (which also starred Gleeson).  Boorman adapted the novel with help from Le Carré and Bridget Jones’s Diary’s scribe Andrew Davies.  The film is certainly pretty enough, with lovely photography from Philippe Rousselot (Remember the Titans) and unobtrusive editing from Boorman regular Ron Davis.  If nothing else, Tailor helps perpetuate the myth that all countries south of Texas have daily, street-blocking parades complete with giant religious icons (it’s always the Day of the Dead in Central America, right?).

1:49 –

for strong sexuality (nudity), language and some violence