88 Minutes marks Al Pacino’s real comeback as the gun-toting, stunt-doubled college professor and forensic psychologist Jack Gramm.

As a specialist in the analysis of criminal minds, Gramm took the stand to give testimony that was imperative to the conviction of Jon Forster, a serial killer dubbed the “Seattle Slayer” for a string of sadistic murders and whose onscreen portrayal elicited oaths, aahs and cringes from audience members.

Now, nine years later, Forster’s execution is imminent and he’s desperate for a stay. He insists with rhetorical double-speak that Jack, haunted by the brutal homicide of his sister years ago, purposely misled jurors to believe Forster was responsible for the more recent slayings. The film suggests that he has a “personal vendetta” against Forster.

A real-time countdown begins on Gramm’s life. He receives an anonymous phone call from an electronically obscured voice that gives him 88 minutes to live.

Cue almost an hour and a half of action, as Gramm tries desperately to find out who the killer is in time to stop him or her. Pacino’s character commandeers a taxicab, narrowly saves his T.A. from a car bomb and avoids police when they suspect him in a string of copycat murders.

Viewers here might be surprised that they do not recognize the streets of “Seattle” as shown during Jack’s frenzied travel around the city. The film was shot in Vancouver, B.C.

While the U-District does not actually have a Denny’s, and you can’t take a ferry from here to Victoria, Seattleites will still get a laugh out of the extensive “University of Northwest Washington” scenes.

Don’t let the poor supporting acting, discontinuities or irrelevant plot points fool you. The stunning climax to this thriller will have your heart racing right up to the crash-of-the-cymbals finish when Pacino redeems himself as the take-no-prisoners star all audiences want him to be.