'The Interpreter' (PG-13) (out of four popcorns)

It's been said that all you need to make a movie is a woman and a gun. Someone should tell that to Sydney Pollack.

In "The Interpreter," if everything else was stripped away from this top-heavy, cumbersome, belabored affair, it would be far better than it is. Reduce this tale of international intrigue to just a man, a woman, their growing trust and the mere possibility of her holding a gun, and it would find all the suspense, chemistry and brevity that it currently lacks.

As submitted, however, "The Interpreter" is a convoluted, dizzying trip through the worlds of international assassinations, African politics and American intelligence. And in stretching itself so thin, the movie finds itself unable to sufficiently develop any subplot of this action-mystery-drama.

Let's deal with this in separate parts. In terms of action, "The Interpreter" simply has too much given its serious side, constantly abandoning its story for a foot chase or nighttime attack.

The basis for its suspense is the threat of a possible assassination at the United Nations (this was the first film ever allowed into the structure). Silvia (Nicole Kidman) is, as the title suggests, an interpreter for the General Assembly. Returning late one night to retrieve her flute -- yes, she's taking flute lessons -- she happens to overhear a mysterious conversation, detailing the assassination of a visiting African leader.

Thus, the mystery begins. Enter the heartbroken Tobin (Sean Penn) and the feisty Dot (Catherine Keener), members of the U.S. Secret Service who are charged with protecting foreign dignitaries. The last thing they need during this time of American hatred abroad, their boss (played by Pollack) tells them, is a murdered head of state on American soil.

The deeper Tobin digs, the more he comes to question Silvia's allegation and history. It turns out that Silvia is an African herself, with motive to harm the visiting leader. Then again, so does most of the world. Once a passionate preacher of freedom and liberator of an oppressed land, this leader is now a tyrant, accused by some of genocide. Appearing in front of the U.N., while risky, will provide him the one chance to publicly defend himself and avoid prosecution in the International Criminal Court.

So Tobin must decide: Is Silvia telling the truth, or lying in order to keep this leader away and despised by the international community? Further, if she's telling the truth, who is the assassin, and how do they intend to breach U.N. and Secret Service security?

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Preview: 'The Interpreter'

Not entirely unexpected, as the case unfolds, Silvia and Tobin start to respect each other. This respect slowly evolves into friendship and then hints of something more. In hindsight, the real treasures of this film are their verbal sparring matches, Tobin growing more skeptical and Silvia growing more defiant. As their defenses are lowered, new truths emerge. Tobin's wife died two weeks earlier and Silvia's entire family was killed by a land mine. And they turn to each other because, however unusual the situation might be, they are all each other has.

What Pollack, and writers Charles Randolph, Scott Frank and Steven Zaillian don't realize is that these separate threads not only don't work together -- they interrupt and sabotage each other.

Just consider one sequence: It starts at night, as Silvia and Tobin speak on the phone. Silvia is scared, and Tobin stays on the phone until she falls asleep. It's a sweet and tender denouement to an intense day.

Not soon after, however, she sprints to a suspicious meeting with a shady acquaintance who starts pouring over the politics of the African country where both she and the visiting U.N. dignitary call home. The tension then builds, as Pollack cuts away and shows the plans of multiple African men in plotting various attacks both in and around the U.N. headquarters.

And as this clunky plot shifts tones, or the soundtrack changes from syncopated rhythms of suspense to ominous dissonant chords and finally sweet harmonies, "The Interpreter" starts to wear itself thin.

As mentioned above, the best of the three stories is the drama. Kidman and Penn play their parts perfectly, and bring shades of regret and heartache to these two defiant characters. Even Pollack seems to realize the power of their chemistry.

Meanwhile, the mystery is too convoluted and undeveloped to follow, and in "The Interpreter's" sensationalized ending, its flaws are evident. Here Tobin and Emily stand, next to the fictional leader of a fictional African country, and it borders on incoherent. Who told the truth, who lied, who's responsible, and who benefits? Is it optimistic, or pessimistic? What prevails: peace or terror?

Truth is, questions like this just don't matter here. In a film that discusses Africa while making up a country, discusses genocide while failing to acknowledge the real atrocities occurring in Africa today, and discusses international conflict while only caring about a handful of people on the streets of New York City, cultural issues are not the fiction's strong suit.

If only the filmmakers would have realized that all they really needed was a man, a woman and a gun.