In theaters

TAKING LIVES, directed by D.J. Caruso, written by Jon Bokenkamp, based on the novel by Michael Pye, 103 minutes, rated R.

The first half of the grisly new thriller “Taking Lives” gives you hope that the serial killer genre might not be dead after all. In spite of its benign title, which is nearly as lame as last month’s serial-killer thriller “Twisted,” and the fact that it inexplicably tries to pass Quebec City off as Montreal, the movie initially is better than you might expect.

As directed by D.J. Caruso from a screenplay by Jon Bokenkamp, the film creates a controlled mood of tense unease. Heightened by Philip Glass’ sinewy score – which is a clear bow to Hitchcock’s longtime composer, Bernard Herrmann – the movie has an opening that’s handled so well, it generates immediate interest in the story.

In it, a drifter is brutally murdered in 1983 by a young man who quickly assumes his victim’s identity. Flash forward 20 years and the bodies are starting to pile up again. Unable to get a handle on the case, the baffled French Canadian police seek the help of Angelina Jolie’s Illeana Scott, a savvy FBI profiler who has the unique ability to lie in a victim’s grave and give specifics on how they got there.

Freakish? Yes. Bizarre? Mais oui. Not surprisingly, Illeana isn’t exactly welcomed by some of the cops (Olivier Martinez, Jean-Hughes Anglade and Tcheky Karyo) working the case. Still, she proves invaluable, particularly when an eyewitness to a new murder is called in for questioning.

His name is James Coster (Ethan Hawke), he’s an art dealer, and how he recounts what he saw generates a mystery: Either he’s the murderer playing a game of cat and mouse with the police or he’s telling the truth. If it’s the latter, then he’s in danger of being hunted down by the real murderer, who might just be Kiefer Sutherland, since he’s the one lurking around the shadows and apparently up to no good.

Which is it? That’s anyone’s guess, though Illeana does side with Coster, which sets the movie up for a steamy romance, several well-done chase scenes and one noteworthy jolt that rings through the theater.

Unfortunately, just when it appears that this is going to be a reasonably smart, atmospheric thriller of note, the film jackknifes into a series of audacious plot twists that break the film in two. The ending is particularly absurd, a major cheat with a mean edge that goes too far and doesn’t add up. I don’t know what Bokenkamp was smoking when he wrote it, but it must have been potent and laced with a depressant because it brings the whole movie down.

Grade: C

On video and DVD

DR. SEUSS’ THE CAT IN THE HAT, directed by Bo Welch, written by Alec Berg, David Mandel and Jeff Schaffer, based on the book by Dr. Seuss, 78 minutes, rated PG.

Bo Welch’s hugely disappointing “Dr. Seuss’ The Cat in the Hat” may use the bones of Dr. Seuss’ beloved 1957 tale, but it quickly smashes them apart with its sledgehammer of a script.

The movie is bright and colorful dreck – one of last year’s worst. A flea wouldn’t have anything to do with it, but dogs certainly have. Hackneyed and pointless, shapeless and dull, the movie is everything Seuss’ book isn’t – overwritten, overblown, overcooked and overwrought-and it has none of the unique, defining lyricism that made Seuss’ book such a spry original.

As The Cat, Mike Myers brings little to the role other than layers of thick black fur and a blanket of white makeup. His Cat isn’t The Cat. It’s an A-list star in a cat suit doing impersonations of his more famous characters – Austin Powers, Dr. Evil, Shrek and Linda Richman – as well as Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion from “The Wizard of Oz.” The result is the laziest, most unimaginative performance of Myers’ career.

First-time director Welch drives a story in which single mom Joan (Kelly Preston) is a beleaguered Realtor summoned by her cruel boss, Mr. Humberfloob (Sean Hayes), to return to work. Reluctantly, she does so, leaving her children, Sally (Dakota Fanning) and Conrad (Spencer Breslin), in the care of Mrs. Kwan (Amy Hill), a doughy narcoleptic and Asian-American stereotype.

While Mrs. Kwan sleeps, chaos reigns with the appearance of The Cat, who enters Sally and Conrad’s life with the destructive Thing 1 and Thing 2 in tow. Together, they share in all sorts of raunchy fun, all of which challenges the film’s PG rating.

Does anyone remember The Cat feigning an erection in the book? Trading in his share of scatological humor to get a laugh? Being whacked in the unmentionables by some unruly tots who rejoice in The Cat’s doubled-over pain? And how about Alec Baldwin’s role as the gassy, beer-bloated salesman Quinn, who wants to send Conrad to military school so he can have an easier time persuading Conrad’s mother to marry him? Is he really what the story needed to create tension?

I didn’t think so, either.

Grade: D-

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays and Fridays in Style, 5:30 p.m. Thursdays on WLBZ 2 and WCSH 6, and are archived at RottenTomatoes.com. He can be reached at BDNFilm1@aol.com.