Political intrigue and deception unfold inside the United Nations, where an FBI agent (Penn) is assigned to protect an interpreter (Kidman) who overhears an assassination plot. [TRAILER]

STEVEN SNYDER'S REVIEW

The most effective scene in the ultra-thriller “The Interpreter,” takes place late at night, as two people on opposite sides of a New York City street look at each other through windows and talk through cell phones.

In some ways, this tells you all you need to know.

The film is so misguided and so heavy-handed, that it doesn’t even recognize the far more interesting personal drama at its center, between scruffy secret service man Tobin (Sean Penn) and gorgeous United Nations interpreter Emily (Nicole Kidman).

Instead, if you asked most people what this mess is about, they would discuss the fictional African country of Matobo, the impending visitation of the tyrannical Motoban leader, the suspicious conversation Emily overhears discussing his assassination and the trauma swirling around Tobin’s suspicions that Emily might be lying.

But all of that is just formula. The first production allowed to enter the real halls of the U.N., “The Interpreter” uses this bit of international intrigue not as a political springboard, but as just another ploy to up the stakes. Presidents have been assassinated in thrillers before, so why not the fictional leader of a fictional country in the world’s biggest political venue?

The only problem is that incorporating all of these political subplots and these ancillary details take far too long to explore. To adequately set up everything the script demands, director Sydney Pollack (“The Firm”) must work through Emily’s elaborate back story (oh yeah, she’s an African – a Motoban in fact, how perfect is that), the grueling world of Motoban politics and the complex interactions of Emily and Tobin.

And in spending nearly a full hour building up the film’s who-dunnit side, giving us a dozen characters to identify, follow and suspect, “The Interpreter” really starts to lose its footing. Truth be told, in the final scenes, I had no idea what was going on, who was to blame, who had lied and who had told the truth.

If only Pollack had realized this, then the film could have been saved. There’s energy and spirit in the exchanges between Tobin and Emily, and he could have tapped into them. As Tobin challenges her, Emily snaps right back, and while the two start to grow a bit closer, their relationship never once deteriorates into the expected formulas.

In fact, they are some of the most complex characters to inhabit a thriller in years, and their cell phone conversation on that one, somber evening is incredibly moving. Both Tobin, who lost his wife two weeks earlier, and Emily, who really has no one in America and now finds her life torn apart, need someone in that instant, and for a brief, fleeting moment, they enter each other’s hearts and bring a sense of calm.

In true “Interpreter” style, it is then bewildering to watch as the next day brings with it more implausible, and at times incomprehensible twists and turns, and how all emotion is drained from the performances, as Tobin must again become officious and Emily must again become distraught.

I feel I should comment on the fictional African country, and the shrewd use of terms like “genocide” and “international court” and “terrorist,” while refusing to discuss Sudan, the Congo, Saddam Hussein or America’s incursion into Iraq. I also feel I should challenge a film that uses the U.N. as a plot device rather than engage in any sort of meaningful conversation about the state of global politics.

But I should meet the film on its own terms.

It wants to be a mediocre thriller, and falls just short of that. And if it had tried to talk about these meaningful things, it likely would have failed in that regard as well.

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