Warning: a list of spoilers the length of Liam Hemsworth's torso. Paranoia is an exercise on how to adapt a pretty good novel into a very bad movie.

First, take the book's hero, a potentially brilliant underachiever who loses his job because he cleverly juggles corporate accounts to throw a retirement bash for an unappreciated blue collar company grunt, and switch him out for a revenge-minded flop who uses said corporate accounts to throw his posse a blast at a pretentious watering hole. It isn't like noted thespian Liam Hemsworth needs any instant empathy from an audience. After all, what's the difference between risking your professional reputation to honor a hard working employee and stealing 16 grand to swill the latest designer booze at a place where bouncers announce "no hipsters allowed"?

Next, after rendering said hero egregiously banal, "adapt" the irascible, unlikeable, and annoyingly stubborn old school coach father dying of emphysema into a tipsy, lascivious, drooling idiot ex-security guard. Don't let the old man die, as he does for good reason in the novel (to help develop the hero's boy-crush on the tech mogul he is sent to spy on), but by all means let him drool on to a happy ending. Replace the high powered and mysterious love interest with a floozy who likes hooking up for one nighters and remaining nameless. Take the canny sap of a best friend who demonstrates the true meaning of paldom and substitute a pair of ambitious, annoying nerds. Throw in an unnecessary FBI agent if only to provide photos of dead bodies of those who moled before. And last but not least, change the ingenious tech innovation, the Holy Grail of the films's plot, the book's 'optical chip' and switch it out for a processor that has apparently been on the market since the PS86 series.

There is not one well crafted line, not one intriguing scene, not one "made me think" moment in the entire film. There is a plot twist at the end, but unlike the clever one in the novel, you saw it coming from Harrison Ford's first growl. The leads are insipid. Hemsworth and his Guinness Record- worthy trunk are an ad for insomnia and Amber Heard a lovely void. Those "Armani sets"? As sterile as the film - needed a heavy dose of Versaci.

I went to see this film because I enjoyed the novel and Gary Oldman was cast as the nefarious Nick Wyatt. Oldman, and Ford, do about as much with their roles as is humanly possible and they do indeed ooze pure hate from every pore. (Gary is, as always, so authentic you lose yourself in his mannerisms, accent, posture, eyes).But the real villain of the piece is named Robert Luketic. He should never be allowed to go anywhere near a "thriller" again. In fact, he should be stopped before he does for anyone else's career what he did for Katherine Heigl's.

By all means, if you're a Ford/Oldman fan, show your support. Just remember that with the movie ticket fare, you are also prolonging the career of a truly abominable director. The only paranoia applicable in this film is the audience's growing fear that this mess won't end Luketic's streak of flops.

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