Flight Risk

Mark Wahlberg goes bad but the tension is actually pretty good in this Mel Gibson-directed airborne thriller.

One of the challenges critics persistently faced is how much to reveal in your review of a movie. Particularly of the psychological and/or action thriller variety, where twists in the plot or expectations about the roles of particular actors are part of the appeal.

For instance, do I reveal that Mark Wahlberg plays the bad guy in “Flight Risk,” an airborne thriller in which a U.S. Marshal is transporting a prisoner via airplane through the wintry mountains of Alaska? Well, I guess I just did.

My byword has always been to go with what the promotions of the film have put out there. And the trailers for “Flight” are quite upfront that Wahlberg plays the pilot who secretly is a hitman sent to take out the prisoner, who’s to be a witness against some big mob guy. Since most people watch the trailer to gauge their interest in a flick, I figure you’ve already seen it and know.

Heck, they even give Wahlberg a big fake-looking bald cap to conceal his movie star gorgeousness that, coupled with a lot of truly energetic sneering and scenery-chewing on his part, render him loathsome and almost unrecognizable.

Wahlberg has played bad before, but he’s mostly been a cinema hero the last couple of decades, so it does feel a little bit like a gimmick. If it is, it works. “Flight,” written by Jared Rosenberg in his first developed screenplay, knows what it is and delivers on the carefully-stoked tension that erupts into violence.

It’s actually a very intimate story, essentially a three-person drama with Wahlberg as the pilot, Topher Grace as Winston, the squirrelly accountant fugitive and Michelle Dockery (“Downton Abbey”) as Madelyn Harris, the tough Deputy Marshal calling the shots. The power shifts this way and that over the course of 91 minutes, with Harris and Daryl Booth — the name he assumed from the real pilot; we never learn his real one — trading the upper hand.

I was surprised to learn it’s directed by Mel Gibson, his first effort behind the camera since 2016’s “Hacksaw Ridge” and just his third directorial effort in the past two decades. We all know about Mel’s troubles, and I’ll not belabor them here, and just acknowledge that whatever his faults the guy knows how to spin a good yarn, especially if there’s violence involved.

Almost the entire movie takes place inside the interior of the plane, barely the size of a middle-class house’s family room, and by the end we feel like we know ever square inch of it. Little details like a dropped knife or a purloined set of sunglasses will be become very important down the line.

Is the movie kind of obvious and superficial? Yeah. It’s like a stripped-down machine with no frills, where the bolts show and it makes some funny noises. But it does what it’s supposed to.

The three characters are pretty much stereotypes. Wahlberg is the remorseless killer who enjoys toying with his prey before he does them in. He keeps making sexual overtures to Harris, and taunts Winston — whom he dubs “Winnie” — about becoming some prison tough’s bitch.

Winston is a standard-issue wisecracking wimp, a guy who thinks only of himself, though he eventually shows a little mettle and redemptive qualities. He’s the designated comic relief, of course.

Harris is the classic “cop who made a mistake” a la Al Powell in “Die Hard,” taken off the beat and chained to a desk because of a past misdeed on the job. She’s been given a second chance by her boss, and is determined to make sure Winston arrives at court to testify against Manetti, the mob boss he’s been doing the books for.

The only outside contact is via the satellite phone and plane radio. After the initial tussle, the obvious predicament is that Daryl (or whatever his name is) is the only person who knows how to fly. So Harris is coached by a civilian pilot, Hasan (Maaz Ali), and calmed by her boss, Van Sant (Leah Remini).

As things go on and Daryl-killer keeps dropping surprisingly accurate information about Winston and Harris’ backgrounds, it becomes clear there’s a leak at the U.S. Marshal’s, so eventually the director himself (Paul Ben-Victor) gets involved.

I’m not crapping on “Flight Risk.” It’s obviously a small-budget picture without a lot of polish or production values. (I read $18 million, which probably wasn’t even the catering budget on the last Avengers movie.)

But for a drop-off bit of fun in the dregs of January, it’s an acceptable standby.