In the hallowed halls where cinematic masterpieces are born, one title dares to tread where the brave fear to dive: “Hear No Evil.” This 1993 thriller, directed by Robert Greenwald, attempts to woo audiences with its clever title, but if we’re being honest, the only thing we should “hear” is the distant sound of a thrilling opportunity missed—a sound akin to a whisper lost in an echo chamber of mediocrity. Firstly, let’s discuss the office of thrills, where those spine-tingling moments ought to live. “Hear No Evil” promises us a gripping experience akin to being on the edge of your seat, yet we find ourselves doing somersaults with apathy instead. The film’s premise—a deaf woman witnessing a murder—is indeed a tantalizing setup; however, the execution (pun intended) is like cooking a Michelin-star meal using only a microwave. The script reads like a dull lecture, with characters that are more one-dimensional than a paper cutout. Our leading lady, played by Marlee Matlin, treads through the plot with the grace of a ballet dancer strapped in cement blocks. Did someone mention ambiance? The film’s mood is set with the finesse of a toddler’s finger-painting, splashing colors of suspense that largely resemble a tired paint-by-numbers kit from the clearance aisle. Now, let’s adjust our focus to the star-studded cast, featuring the mighty Martin Sheen—who must have lost a bet to find himself entangled in this whirlwind of wasted potential. Watching Sheen is a bit like watching a lion put on a show for kittens. Yes, he roars, but it’s difficult to appreciate the ferocity when his surroundings are nothing but fluff. D.B. Sweeney, meanwhile, is thrown into the mix like a seasoning that nobody asked for; his attempts to inject excitement are reminiscent of trying to liven up a 70s sitcom. Together, they tread through their roles like confused tourists who accidentally strolled onto the wrong film set. But let’s not forget the real star of the film: the deafness itself. “Hear No Evil” wants to make a powerful statement about living with a disability, and yet, the approach is as subtle as a sledgehammer. Awkward attempts at drama occasionally give way to the absurd, with scenes that should inspire empathy but instead provoke laughter, albeit not the intended kind. Imagine a police officer dropping their case files in a clatter while Matlin’s character browses through, oblivious, and you start to realize the mayhem of miscommunication that the film cultivates so amiably. Contrasts abound: There’s a deaf protagonist facing a violent world, yet all we’re left with is a muddled mess where the bad guys appear to have heard plenty—if not an overwhelming abundance of cunning, which makes one question why they are failing so dramatically in their sinister plans. A defeating paradox, indeed. Cinematically, “Hear No Evil” garners further criticisms with its apparent misunderstanding of suspense. The pacing resembles a sluggish molasses drip, tantalizing viewers in anticipation while ultimately delivering the cinematic equivalent of a stale loaf of bread. Action scenes that should evoke adrenaline instead draw yawns, and if anticipation is the spice of drama, then this dish is a bland broth devoid of seasoning. In conclusion, "Hear No Evil" may be an earnest attempt at exploring the intersection of ability and crime, but a more fitting title may have been “See No Good.” It boldly ventures into terrain where thrills were supposed to thrive but instead brought forth a land of flawed execution and unintentionally humorous moments. So, as we emerge from this journey into cinematic chaos, we’re left with one essential lesson: if you’re going to make a thriller, it’s probably best to hear all the evil you can before you dive in—because otherwise, you might drown in a deafening silence of drawn-out dissatisfaction.