Former army man Tom Hardy (Travolta) leads the inquiry into the bloodbath that occurred during a US Rangers training exercise in the Panamanian jungle. His subsequent career with the DEA may be clouded by bribery allegations, but he still carries a rep as the guy to call when you need answers. Hardy has his work cut out in this case, though. Interviewing the survivors brings first one version of the truth, then another. Did boiling resentment at the brutal methods of instructor Sgt West (Jackson) prompt the carnage? Was covert drugs activity behind it? What else remains untold? If we start out reasonably intrigued and keen to find out, it doesn't take long before goodwill is worn down into outright exasperation. Screenwriter James Vanderbilt's determination to whisk the carpet, underlay and floorboards from beneath our feet proves a fruitless display of self-serving clever-cleverness. The cast does its best to hang in there, yet neither Jackson's parade-ground martinet nor Nielsen's tough/vulnerable investigating lieutenant seem like news. Only Travolta's maverick charm keeps the movie just the right side of the pain barrier. Hard graft for scant reward.