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Knowing beforehand that there will be a huge plot twist is generally a frustrating way to go into a film. Critics often find it difficult to discuss a film without referencing its curveballs, but this can prompt an impatient viewer to hazard wild guesses until one is inevitably correct. Still, with a film like Wolfgang Petersen's Shattered, it helps to know there will be a genuinely cool payoff, because sitting through the down moments is otherwise unendurable. Shattered can't steer clear of the Basic Instinct realm of femme fatale mischief and overarching tawdriness, even with a talent like Petersen behind both the script and camera. This could have something to do with the campy performance by Greta Scacchi, which recalls that of Sharon Stone in the aforementioned film the same year. But Petersen does play interesting games with the idea of a blank-slate accident victim trying to reassume a forgotten identity, even if they are wildly improbable, scientifically suspect, and more than a little cheeky. Tom Berenger's simplistic acting makes him an effective tabula rasa. While its surprises can produce the kind of goosebumps worthy of the great thrillers, Shattered's cheaper components undermine these detrimentally. The result is to knock the picture down below average, no better than a guilty pleasure even at its very best moments.