The Gingerbread Man has all the ingredients of a fine movie. A respected director, a script by a best-selling author, and a well-rounded cast, all of whom succeed in stretching their abilities. The question of why the movie crumbles, seeming more like a mediocre television show than a movie, lies with Grisham's set of unlovable characters and a director who, disrespectful of his audience's intelligence, gives away the entire pending two-hour plot within the first ten minutes of the movie by his choice of camera shots.
The cast, each out of the respective genres that made them famous, deliver unexpectedly fine performances. Yet their characters suffer from existing as Hollywood stereotypes of Southerners whose greed, stupidity, and amorality are not grounded in the audience's reality. The movie does manage to attain a high level of suspense, yet it is difficult to muster any compassion for a sleazy dolt of an attorney, his obviously manipulative one-night stand, and a uni-dimensional supporting cast. After viewing The Gingerbread Man you'll want two hours of your life back.
