A pretty intriguing plot (at least to begin with) is set adrift here by wishy-washy treament that turns it into something of an extended travelogue. Andie MacDowell is the mother-of-three seemingly left with nothing but a crateful of bills when her chauvinistic husband, struggling to keep his airplane salvage business afloat, is killed in a Mexican air crash. However, in this kind of film, as soon as the local authorities tell her that he was 'burned from head to toe', you can smell a live rat. When Andie finds a pack of baseball cards and cracks the codes on the backs of them (only one of the film's unlikely premises), the trail leads her to a cache of secret bank accounts across the world. Now you and I would pocket the $840,000 and live in the lap of luxury. But if Andie did the same, we'd only have half a film. So she follows the trail on to Egypt where the extent of her husband's nefarious activities is revealed. MacDowell is appealing and keeps her credibility intact; but a lighter, more skilful directorial hand was needed to lend impact to this particular flight of fancy.

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