Into the Blue

In the far-off days of the early James Bond films, underwater action sequences had a hip tranquillity — a lyrical zing. They were all about how fast you could move in a world that denied speed. The closest that Into the Blue comes to that old ’60s lyricism is to feature Jessica Alba, in all her tawny, rope-muscled glory, slithering through the crystal blue waves of the Bahamas. Alba and Paul Walker are lovey-dovey Caribbean dive bums, happy to be broke — at least, until the appearance of Walker’s buddy, a yuppie oozing frat-house smarm. (Is Scott Caan glad he gets to play these roles? It sure looks like it.) Out snorkeling, they find a sunken plane full of cocaine, which leads to much underwater mayhem and above-water banality. Walker is supposed to be lured by the buried treasure, but the actor, wearing Brad Pitt’s bristle cut, is like Pitt with his sexy appetite sucked out.