The best thing you can say about The Infiltrator is that Cranston and company are entirely persuasive in a film that doesn't make the best use of their stellar efforts.
There aren't enough adrenalin moments to supercharge a film that gets bogged down in exposition.
This is a summer movie for grownups, the kind that reminds you how gratifying it can be to sit down uninterrupted and watch actors work on the big screen.
On its own limited terms, The Infiltrator, like its hero, delivers the goods.
When director Brad Furman isn't focusing on huge closeups (which seems to be an awful lot of the time), he's focusing on all the wrong details.
It's distinguished by its craft and verve.
Composer Chris Hajian breaks out the percolating Jan Hammer synthesizers, and the '80s decadence wafts offscreen like a stink.
The drug of choice here is acting, and the highs in this hurtling, often violent thriller are doubly intense, since two of its stars play flamboyant double roles.
After a few initial missteps, Cranston's good-natured character can do no wrong, and The Infiltrator takes cues from his progression by creating the sense that his scheme is so perfectly realized it can just glide along to a perfect finish.