Dr Jack Gramm is a forensic psychologist whose testimony has put dozens of dangerous criminals behind bars including sadistic rapist and murderer Jon Forster. But as Forster's execution looms, a series of killings occur that bear all the hallmarks of the so-called Seattle Slayer. Then Gramm receives a phone call telling him he has eighty-eight minutes to live. Has he helped to convict the wrong man or is the new spate of murders a double-blind? No matter what the case, Gramm only has eighty-eight minutes to prevent his own death…

He also underlines the players he wants you to consider as possible suspects. But he does so in such a clumsy manner that you will be able to figure out the lame twist just by process of elimination. He doesn't spend any time developing the characters, so you won't care about the lead or his various hangers-on because they are clearly just narrative constructs. He misses the opportunity to make Forster a malevolent presence hanging over events, instead using him as a lazy plot motor. He doesn't give his performers enough support, allowing them to coast by on hitting their marks and saying their lines, hoping some of Al Pacino's reputation will rub off on them. But it makes for nothing more than a lazy, contrived stab at the thriller genre.

The characterisation is risible. Jack never for a second doubts his abilities, choices or theories, making him an arrogant prick we can't empathise with. It makes his paranoia unbelievable and the way he entirely trusts one of his assistants but suspects the other is entirely arbitrary. That said assistant then follows him blindly into danger makes no sense. His tragic back-story feels utterly contrived. His secretary Shelly is a bland faithful and true stereotype and when we discover she is gay, it makes the inevitable twist as clear as day. His teaching assistant Kim seems to exist purely to fulfil the roles of suspect and damsel in distress. His students Lauren and Mike are badly under-written. Meanwhile we never see enough of Jon Forster for him to be anything other than a toothless villain. The dialogue is utterly dreadful, with Jack at one point saying "There's been a breach in my most secure area!" without a shred of irony.

Neal McDonough doesn't get enough screen-time to make much of an impact as death row prisoner Jon Forster. All you are left with is a vague impression of an intense blue-eyed stare. Amy Brenneman plays Gramm's loyal secretary with a reasonable amount of commitment, but never escapes plot device status. Alicia Witt is little more than a lazy plot motor as Gramm's teaching assistant Kim. There was a time when Leelee Sobieski was poised to be the next big thing, but her choices of roles have always been iffy and the part of student Lauren Douglas is no different. She comes across as too smart at the beginning so never really convinces as a victim and makes a hash of the character reversal part way through. Benjamin McKenzie is surplus to requirements as student and suspect Mike, but never even bothers to give the guy a personality.

"88 Minutes" is a tired stab at a thriller that is one long string of hackneyed characters, predictable twists and a plot with more holes than a pair of fishnet tights. The direction is amateurish, the performances either phoned-in or pathetic and the writing downright atrocious. Don't waste your money on this bit of tat. There are more surprises in your average episode of "Midsomer Murders" and a higher standard of acting. Don't even bother with it if it's on late night television unless you're looking for a cure for insomnia.