What's unique about National Treasure is that it turns its focus on the mythology behind America's founding fathers. Rather than spelunking the sarcophagi of ancient Egypt or unraveling the mysteries of the Crusades, the movie imagines the treasure of the Knights Templar hidden right beneath our very noses. What child hasn't marveled at the mysterious Masonic symbols that appear on U.S. currency, and who among us can't appreciate the suggestion that every dollar bill doubles as a ticket to countless fortune if you're only clever enough to crack the code?

National Treasure tickles the imagination of anyone with a penchant for problem solving and a passing familiarity with American Revolutionary history. It's everything you loved about The Da Vinci Code, stripped of its religious context and transposed to early America. In fact, the movie so unabashedly mirrors Dan Brown's guilty-pleasure bestseller that it might just as easily have been called "The Franklin Code," with none other than Benjamin Franklin as the wiseguy inventor responsible for sending six generations of the Gates family on a wild-goose chase.

As the movie opens, grandpa Gates (Christopher Plummer) shares his obsessive quest with wide-eyed young Ben, who will grow up to be Jerry Bruckheimer regular Nicolas Cage. After 30 years of searching, Ben finally uncovers the next clue in the chain, which leads to one of those scenes in which our intrepid code-breakers blurt out the answers to an obscure riddle while the audience patiently waits for them to figure it out for them. "Albuquerque!" chimes in Gates' wisecracking sidekick (Justin Bartha). "See, I can do it, too. Snorkel!"

I like the way the movie has a sense of humor about itself and the roundabout way it might inspire people to take a second look at American history, even if it comes at the expense of such an absurd central idea: the back side of the Declaration of Independence hides an invisible treasure map, and the only way to read it is to steal the document itself. It's easy for an audience to feel frustrated back-seat driving while the characters always seem to be one step ahead, but director Jon Turteltaub keeps things racing along briskly enough that it's not until after you leave the theater that the sheer preposterousness of it all fully hits you.

Consider the logic of a scene in which our heroes rely on electric blow dryers to illuminate an invisible code. Where would they be if old Ben hadn't lucked upon electricity with his kite? Still, it's impossible not to get caught up in the excitement. National Treasure is endless fun to ridicule while watching, and Turteltaub occasionally slows down long enough to let the audience match wits against Gates decoding a $100 bill or solving anagrams (here's a head start: crack a George Washington buff's password using only the letters YVROLGFAE). American history has rarely made for such mindless entertainment!

[as featured in The Miami Herald]