Sigourney Weaver traveled zillions of miles to get from Aliens to this loony British thriller. Better she should have gone to Tipperary. The film's main appeal will be to people who long to see Ms. Weaver take her shirt off. Nothing much else of interest happens. Weaver plays an American economist working—and getting bored—in England. So naturally she becomes a high-priced call girl. One of her clients is Michael Caine, a renowned diplomat whom some Arab types want to kill to keep him from mediating a dispute. Weaver and Caine apparently fall fitfully in love, which might account for her mindless behavior, such as naively failing to notice that the Arabs are setting her up to get at Caine. She seems otherwise rational though, and director Bob (La Balance) Swaim trots the plot along such obvious lines that her foolishness leads nowhere. The film just sputters to a conclusion. (R)
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