French Pierce Brosnan suffers life-ending injuries but survives long enough to whisper some French words into Lesley-Anne Down's ears, which leads to her seeing his memories and unravelling the mystery of his death, which has something to do with a group of mysterious street punks. Such is the set-up of "Nomads", although if you're expecting it to lead anywhere interesting -- or to justify its non-linear plotting -- you're shit out of luck. The most interesting thing about this movie is the fact that Pierce Brosnan's horrendous French accent never got nixed from the whole sorry mess, distractingly bad as it is. For a short time this feels like the most Reagan-era horror movie around, what with its setup of cookie-cutter suburbanites besieged by leather-clad, bike-riding miscreants who hang out in parking lots. But it soon goes in a different direction, which I would have been thankful for had its left turn not taken it down a route that thinks its mysterious and beguiling but is really just baffling and synthetic. I mentally checked out long before the end, awakened only fleetingly by Brosnan's line deliveries.
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