We get muttering and glowering from Mr. Foxx, a story that can't manage enough twists to tie a shoelace, and set pieces that have been done better in other movies.
The listless, shoddy sort of remake where it feels like all of the characters have already seen the movie they're in, Sleepless reduces one of the best action films of the 21st century into one of the most benign.
Matt Zoller Seitz
One of those movies that needed to be a lot better or a lot worse to make much of an impression.
Never rising above the level of generic B-movie, Sleepless represents the sort of disposable fare typically dropped into theaters in January.
"Sleepless" is a propulsive thin exercise, "energetic" but tedious, the kind of January movie that Jamie Foxx should have permanently graduated from.
At a certain point, Odar's intense atmospherics - amplified by the throbbing bass notes of Michael Kamm's heavy, percussive score - start to feel like the work of a filmmaker on genre autopilot.
You could pretty much play American Police Movie bingo, checking off squares like "undercover badass," "tough-as-nails Internal Affairs lady," "bug-eyed drug kingpin," and "hero KOs guy twice his size and then magically fits into his jumpsuit."
It might not be Donald Westlake, but it does its thing: meaningless, nonstop violence and movement, enacted by a large cast of characters who are only looking out to survive into the next scene.
Alas, Andrea Berloff's screenplay has more holes than a trawlerman's net, none bigger than a gut-cut Foxx nursing a gaping wound for two-thirds of the picture while still managing to dodge bullets and roll with the punches.