Isn’t it enough to have come up with a slogan that perfectly encapsulates a concept without having to go then and make the expensive, logistically unwieldy, imperfect result? “Jumper”: “Anywhere Is Possible.” I’d figured that if anyone could pull off the idea of characters being able to jump across space at will with any sort of panache and a bit of willful eccentricity, it would be Doug Liman, whose “Go,” “The Bourne Identity” and “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” are as giddily crafted as their reported production processes were tortured. There’s another reason this subject suits Liman’s profile: his ADD range of interests and whims. (From a New York profile: “[H]e sits with his sheepdog Jackson—for his birthday, Liman bought him some sheep.”) The dread Hayden Christiansen (“Star Wars I-III”) is only slightly less wooden than in most of his pictures, and Rachel Bilson, tiny and wet-dark-eyed is ideal in the teen-dream role of the crush from high school he can sweep off her feet. There are shreds that hint at mythology of a centuries-long battle between Jumpers and Paladins, embodied by Samuel L. Jackson, claiming to be an agent of the NSA, CIA and IRS at various times, with a platinum merkin atop his head and a range of costumes that start at “Matrix”-with-a-Nehru jacket that after a while simplify into Obi-Wan muslins. (Other cryptic allusions are equally toothsome.) Except for the incessant product placement, “Jumpers” plays as a very expensive, very satisfying episode of a kooky comedy TV series you’ve never seen before, especially at its brisk, relentless, shocking eighty-eight-minute length. There’s an eyeball kick everywhere. Anamorphic 2.35 widescreen. (Ray Pride)
“Jumper” is everywhere.