Film

Midway through Rendition, CIA grand-witch Corrinne Whitman (Streep) grills rookie analyst Douglas Freeman (Gyllenhaal) on his credentials, asking him if he’s ever done anything like this before. “This is my first torture,” Douglas whines. It’s likely his last, too, since one suspects few real CIA agents are so openly empathetic.

On dubious evidence, the government kidnaps family man Anwar El-Ibrahimi (Metwally) through a process known as “extraordinary rendition”—the transfer of terrorism suspects to prisons outside of the U.S., where habeas corpus exists only in the Clarence Thomas sense. The process started under Clinton, a senatorial aide (Sarsgaard) informs us, but became routine after September 11; the jury is still out on the results. Streep, in Manchurian Candidate mode, growls that torturing suspects saves lives. Douglas, meanwhile, quotes Shakespeare, noting that abused prisoners seldom reveal anything of use.

That dichotomy is flogged from minute one. In Washington, Anwar’s wife (Witherspoon) navigates the corridors of power, while in Northern Africa, Gyllenhaal resists going for the Pepto-Bismol as Douglas’s colleague (Naor) orders electroshocks. What should have been a heady debate movie—or Kafka-esque personal journey focused on Anwar—instead becomes a simpleminded tract. Rendition scores points for topical boldness; with The Brave One and The Kingdom still in theaters, we’re hardly flush with pro–civil liberties movies at the moment. It’s too bad that this one never met an ethical quandary it couldn’t solve with a deus ex machina.