I just love the end of the world. Whether it's Day Of The Triffids, War Of The Worlds, The Stand, 28 Days Later or any number of other books or movies, there's some vicious little child in me that takes great joy in seeing the whole of civilization smashed into little bitty pieces. So when I heard that Neil Marshall, the director of the great Dog Soldiers, was making an end-of-the-world movie, my sadistic little heart leapt for joy. This was going to be good. This was going to be one of the movies of the year.
And I gave it the benefit of the doubt, at least at first. The clunky voice-over I could live with, the excessive gore wasn't a problem (exploding bunny, yay!), and... OK, why are those soldiers standing in the middle of a horde of rabid, disease-carrying Scottish people? Especially when there's a big, safe wall not a hundred feet away? And how did they build that wall so quickly, and how did they prevent anyone from getting out of Scotland, especially before anyone knew how serious the virus was? All right, asking too many questions. There's bound to be one or two plot holes, you just have to look the other way and pretend they aren't there. There's a good action sequence, and then - who's this stumbling old man? He clearly can't act for toffee, but he looks strangely familiar... Bob Hoskins? When did he become such a lousy actor? OK, we can ignore that - my God, the guy playing Canaris is even worse. And how come, with Britain's economy in the dumper, the population of London has doubled thirty years into the future? Wouldn't people be, you know, leaving, rather than moving INTO horrible slums in a dying city? Where did the infected people in that London basement come from? Did they drop from the sky? How come they got there without infecting half the country on their way? And if the evil mastermind is going to wipe out London anyway, why did he bother sending a team up to find a cure for the virus? What was the point of that? And how did those tanks run into the middle of a vast herd of cows without noticing? One cow you might miss, but there are about a thousand of the buggers milling around, and despite the tank's big glass windows, they don't see any cows until someone steps out of the vehicle. I've heard of selective vision, but that's just dribbling madness.
And oh yeah, you didn't think tanks generally had large, plate glass windows, did you? And if they did, they'd be made of some amazingly tough material, right? Nope. The windows of this tank can be busted by THROWING A ROCK AT THEM - making the invincible machine vulnerable to anyone with a throwing arm and a pebble.
OK, that's enough. 24 minutes into the movie and I just can't write any more. The dialogue is clichéd, the acting is abominable, the plot doesn't make the slightest bit of sense, everything about this film is poorly done trash that seems to have been knocked off in a couple of days by a bunch of witless clowns with less talent than a dung beetle. And yeah, I have seen the rest of the movie - I could be here all day talking about the bits that make no sense, but I'll spare you.
All right. Getting worked up now. I'll just take my medication and go off to bed. And when I wake the next morning, maybe I'll have forgotten this wretched, pathetic, miserable dog's dinner of a film.