Ten minutes or so into Source Code, I realised this was another “gimmick” movie.  That is, a film constructed around a rigid, artificial premise—“it’s all shot by a security camera,” or “the protagonist is buried alive with a cell phone,” etc.—in this case, a series of variations of the “same” sequence, a la Groundhog Day or Run, Lola, Run.  To constrain the situation even further, these sequences are each 8 minutes long and end in an explosion and the death of the protagonist.  Game over, man, game over! (until the controller “re-sets” and the timer starts anew).

            Fortunately and to the film’s credit, Source Code rises above this “gimmick” and while the mechanics of the “source code” process are vague (something about 8 minutes of memory remaining in the human brain even after death, whatever) and there are some logical inconsistencies (if the controllers can communicate with the protagonist before he’s “sent back” for his 8-minute adventures, why didn’t they give him some instructions the first time, rather than just dumping him in, cold? Why do they assume the bomber is still on the train 8 minutes prior to the explosion? Etc., etc.), and it’s not the challenging locked-room brain-teaser it might have been, on the whole the movie is entertaining fun (if not really very suspenseful).

            Without providing too many spoilers, the basic set-up is: military helicopter pilot Colter Stevens has his consciousness planted in the body of Sean Furness, a Chicago teacher commuting to work on a train.  8 minutes into the ride, a bomb explodes, killing everyone on board (include Sean/Colter).  Colter is thrown back to his present reality (in a shadowy “capsule”). His controllers—Captain Goodwin (sympathetic female military officer) and Dr. Rutledge (sinister scientist)—inform him his mission is to identify the bomber, who is planning an even greater attack later that day in the city.  Colter must repeatedly relive the 8 minutes preceding Sean’s death in an attempt to solve the mystery and save thousands of lives.

            Colter—although told to chat up the train passengers and deduce which one is the terrorist—has neither the skills nor the patience to calmly observe them (in one scene, he asks the train conductor “anybody seem…strange to you?” and the conductor replies, “You’re a little strange”), so he takes the direct action route, punching, grabbing, shouting at, and threatening random commuters in an attempt to coerce someone into confessing.  Only a few of these “suspects” are individualised to any extent—a black businessman, a semi-celebrity comedian, a Middle-Eastern looking guy, a college student—and in the end (semi-spoiler) these passengers are all red herrings anyway.  The bomber turns out to be…oh no, I’m not going to tell!  However, as noted before, this isn’t a Charlie Chan-Sherlock Holmes style whodunit, so the “reveal” is not especially important. 

            As noted above, Colter is plunged into this situation with no explanation or preparation, but—after an initial and wholly understandable period of disorientation—learns he was catastrophically wounded in Afghanistan and the only thing keeping him “alive” is the fact that his mind is being used by the government as an anti-terrorist weapon.  What bothers him more than this semi-zombie existence is the realisation that everyone on the commuter train dies in the explosion—even his cute train-friend Christina—and he cannot change that.  Or can he?  dun dun DUNNNNN

            Confession time: as with Inception, I didn’t pay too much attention to the “rules” or intricacies of the plot (as nerdishly thought-provoking as they might be).  There are plenty of paradoxes.  To name one: Colter can’t change the past (except he does, in various ways, because he isn’t simply an observer during the 8-minute episodes, he actually takes action) but he can influence the future?  Meh, I’ll leave that for those who have the capability, time, and inclination to debate abstract intellectual aspects of science and philosophy in the cinema.  Instead, I simply accepted what was going on, interpreted it in my own fashion, and gleaned whatever pleasure I could from things other than the pseudo-scientific and metaphysical issues Source Code (however briefly and superficially) raises. 

            Viewed in this relaxed manner, Source Code works pretty well as a science fiction-thriller-drama-action film.  While Colter seems sincere in his wish to save all the doomed train passengers, he’s especially interested in Christina (who is, after all, the only person he’s developed a personal connection with, even if it is under false pretenses). The romance between Colter and Christina is handled effectively (with a few nods to Groundhog Day, as Colter uses his knowledge of what Christina’s said or done in all the previous 8-minute sequences to his advantage).  It’s really a sweet moment when Colter (as “Sean”) asks Christina to have coffee with him (i.e., breaking the barrier of just being “commuter buddies”) and she says she’s been hoping “for weeks” that he’d ask her (either the real Sean wasn’t interested or was just a slow worker). 

Their relationship actually develops and evolves over the course of the various episodes (prior to the, you know, inevitable KABOOM!), which presents another paradox-we-shouldn’t-think-about: as mentioned, Colter learns more each time he goes back to the train, but Christina has no memory of those incidents so each time she’s starting afresh (and is assuming Colter = Sean, to boot), and thus she (at least) shouldn’t gradually “fall in love” with him over the course of the film because (from her point of view) it’s only a single 8-minute period of time.  Or is it?  dun dun DUNNNN  (sorry) 

            The performances are workmanlike, though most of the supporting players have little or nothing to do.  Jake Gyllenhaal does most of the heavy thespian lifting, with Michelle Monaghan and Vera Farmiga (as Christina and his primary controller, respectively) providing satisfactory support.  Production values are fine, though this is a film which (seemingly) required modest resources: a train, a laboratory, some CGI explosions, that’s it.  Special mention should be made of Chris Bacon’s score, which is generally unobtrusive but has a rousing, old-school Hollywood main theme that starts the film off well.

            Source Code is a perfectly satisfactory thriller that may play a few games with your mind, but also has a heart.