VENICE - As we near the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination, it's comforting to know that he died surrounded by so many attractive people. Cold comfort, admittedly, if indeed we still require any consolation at all for a moment in history that, however rupturing, has by now been amply processed -- both on screen and elsewhere.
But it's pretty much all I gained from Peter Landesman's vapidly exploitative take on the events of November 22, 1963, as experienced by the sundry agents, doctors, servicemen and civilians who played a tangential but first-hand role in the unhappy day. Like Emilio Estevez's similar but marginally more redeemable "Bobby," it reveals nothing about the tragedy that you didn't already know, bar that which you certainly never needed to know in the first place. "Hey, there's Jackie! I think so, at any rate: looks nothing like her. Anyway, how did the nurse feel about it all?"