The first thing you think of when you go in to see a Tony Scott and Jerry Bruckheimer film is that stuff is going to blow up. Regardless of cast, theme or story, if there ain't no explosions, it ain't a Scott-Bruckheimer (or should it be Tony and Jerry?) film.
Surely enough, soon after the montage of a sunny New Orleans ferry ride comes up on screen, a bomb blast blows it and everyone on board to smithereens. Less than five minutes into the film, and I already have a sense of déjà vu.
Déjà Vu has all the trappings of the kind of film Tony Scott has become known for, a....