|
|
I searched for a thread specifically about bad films and there didn't seem to be one, so let me begin.
Two days ago it was my birthday. Having celebrated alcoholically over the weekend I decided to spend the evening itself on a quiet cinema outing with my sister. However, it being half term, the only films on a Monday night were pretty uninspiring - Deception, Two Lovers, The Boat that Rocked, something else that sounded lame, and Knowing.
Eventually my sister and I decided on Knowing, me on the basis that it looked sci-fi/disastery and she on the basis that it starred Nicolas Cage, whom she had not seen in a bad film yet. (This principle was meant to ensure that it was a good film, not that she could pop her Nic Cage in Bad Film cherry).
Oh my God it sucked. It started quite well, with a spooky little girl in the 1950s writing numbers which turn out to be predicted disasters on a piece of paper which goes into a time capsule.
50 years later, the deaf-but-not-really son (bear with me) of bereaved astrophysicist Nic Cage (bear with me) gets the piece of paper, and his father while staring at the news and accidentally pouring himself an entire tumbler of Black Bush to indicate his desperation, loneliness and incipient alcoholism (bear with me) sees the numbers 9/11 (out of about 1000 numbers on the page) in the whisky ring (BEAR WITH ME) and naturally leaps to *and proves* the conclusion that the numbers relate to major disasters.
There follows:
- spooky albino men following his son
- not nearly enough blowing shit up
- a wasted and pointless family back story with dead wife, nurse sister and pastor father
- a potential romance that goes nowhere with the daughter of the 1950s girl (now dead)
- a bunch of unexplained leaps of illogic on the part of Cage, involving solar flares and latitudes etc.
- gratuitous use of sentimental sign language (You. Me. Together. Forever.)
- lots of shiny black stones which are significant but again, not explained
- some aliens
- some bunnies
- the shittest ending ever
What happens when the numbers run out? So does the script, because I have rarely seen a more join-the-dots piece of formulaic rubbish as this (Faintheart excepted), so I just had to vent (and warn you all). |
|
|