The Independent Online
May 2002

Oh joy, a new contender for worst film of the year. Killing Me Softly is about a charismatic British rock-climber, played by Joseph Fiennes, and the American girl (Heather Graham) who drops everything – boyfriend, stern image, knickers – to be swept up in his embrace, only to suspect he has... a Dark Side. Fiennes is Byron by way of Ali G. I've seen wild horses with tamer nostrils. Graham is the cutie in a pickle, frantically waving her arms like Penelope Pitstop, clearly under the illusion this is Last Tango in Paris. Director Kaige Chen coaxed brilliant performances from the actors in Farewell My Concubine; either he's had a personality change or he nipped to the toilet for the longest pee in history while the first and second assistant directors did the best they could.

The ludicrous script also manages to be offensive. I won't give the "twist" away, but in the complicated maths of the plot, the experience of a street thief literally counts for nothing. On screen for a crucial but tiny part, he's a (no)body, sacrificed at the altar of melodrama.

One of the most (or only) interesting aspects of the film is its obsession with The Guardian. The production notes say Killing Me Softly is based on the novel by Nicci French – the husband-and-wife team Nicci Gerrard and Sean French, who've both worked for The Observer, The Guardian's sister paper. I'm sure the film bears no resemblance to their book, because they're brilliant writers. And probably, at the time, they felt the references to The Guardian were a friendly gesture and the lack of Observer name-checks merely tact. As it stands, though, The Observer emerges from this farce as clean as a whistle, while The Guardian... Put it this way, The Observer must be praying the favour is never returned.