That’s the kind of flick *Cellular* is: goofily obvious when it isn’t unexpectedly exciting. It’s one of those movies that succeeds partly by not being anywhere near as bad as you were expecting it to be — by being, really, not so bad at all, much to one’s shocked surprise. Seriously, I was anticipating two hours of that annoyingly pseudo-hip Elvis Costello-ish guy from the TV commercials who wanders around saying ‘Can you hear me now?’ into his cell phone — and why o why won’t someone kidnap *him*? — and instead the goofily obvious stuff is more than made up for by the suspense and the humor.
Phone booth? When was the last time you saw a phone booth? I mean, a quarter of a century ago, Christopher Reeve could already get a laugh when his Clark Kent looked askance at the little kiosk that was his only public telephonic refuge for quick changes. But here’s an entire movie, set in the 21st century, that expects us to accept not only that a phone booth still stands in Manhattan but that its glass panels remained unbroken until a dramatic moment here in the very course of events that unfold before our eyes.