The Final Destination 3D (Movie Review)
Originally written and posted on August 30, 2009.
The Final Destination 3D
While many film franchises are formulaic, few are as cut and dry as the Final Destination movies. After three instalments in a series built around the premise that “you can’t cheat death,” The Final Destination 3-D (emphasis on the definite article that allegedly indicates either a reboot or conclusion) becomes the fourth entry to follow the formula established in the first film with surgical precision. All four films begin with a vivid precognition of a horrific accident, feature broad sketches of characters from typical horror fare, and predictably hit every major plot point as set by the first movie from 2000. Although the cast and characters always change, continuity and clever scripting has never been the big draw for these films. What anyone in attendance for a Final Destination screening has ever been hoping to see are clever deathtraps dispatching human crash test dummies. Yet while death by twisted happenstance provides a nice change from the typical death by masked neglected golem, even the most creative of wells can run dry. After nine years and four films, the Final Destination franchise has sunk into a nadir that not even the 3-D rebirth can remedy.
Nick and his friends are enjoying an idyllic day at the races when he begins to question the safety of where he is sitting. The benches crack and buckle, the concrete superstructure is beginning to crumble, and the fences protecting the spectators from errant scrap metal are fraught with loose screws. Before he has a chance to rise from his seat and take a breather, a screwdriver finds its way onto the racetrack and causes a catastrophic crash that sends tires, shrapnel, and even whole cars hurdling towards the audience in a firestorm of death and destruction. People are burned alive, sliced in half, crushed, decapitated, and poor Nick winds up impaled on a piece of pipe. Lucky for him, however, the entire ordeal was merely a premonition. When the circumstances leading up to how he imagined the disaster begin to occur, he heeds the warning and ferries his friends to safety. Having cheated death, Nick thinks he’s in the clear. But when survivors of the tragedy begin dying in freak accidents in the order Nick foresaw their demise at the race track, Nick worries that he and his friends could wind up dead at any moment and races to stay one step ahead of the deadly unforeseen malevolence.
Believe it or not, what you’ve just read regarding the plot is far more than what The Final Destination ever cares to reveal. Four films into a franchise should be the milestone that sparks experimentation, whether it’s to prevent stagnation or to capture the attention that the previous movies failed to ensnare (more likely the latter reason for this particular franchise). Unfortunately, The Final Destination is more concerned with pursuing a new dimension rather than a new direction. Yes, The Final Destination stands alongside My Bloody Valentine in ushering in the 3-D horror renaissance. Both movies flaunt the sex and gore staples of the typical teen slasher, further amplified by the rendering of every startling jolt in pseudo-tangibility. But while My Bloody Valentine offered 3-D as a compensation for story, plot, and character deficiency, The Final Destination sees the gimmick worthy of a substitution. “We stayed up all night googling premonitions,” quips Lori (Nick’s girlfriend) as if that’s all that needed to be said on the subject. The obligation for all sequels to reference the Flight 180 disaster from the first instalment released in 2000 is loosely established in a later exchange, and that’s the extent of this film’s exposition.
I’d normally consider such immediacy laudable, but the core theme of the franchise isn’t the only thing that’s glossed over. Even the characters are reduced to bland stock, a truly detestable decision since its entirely deliberate and not due to ineptitude with characterization. This film’s director and screenwriter, David R. Ellis and Jeffery Reddick respectively, also served on the first sequel released in 2003, at the time writing characters that are a cut above what’s expected in typical horror fare. In that film, relationships were established and the audience had a vested interest in who they’d like to see survive or die by means of falling construction equipment. With The Final Destination, however, every character is just one flat sour note. Nick is the well-to-do seer, Lori his peppy girlfriend, Janet her shrill best friend, and Hunt is Janet’s jock of a boyfriend. Also on the chopping block is the sage-like older black fellow, his racist tow-truck driving adversary, and the MILF (that’s exactly what actress Krista Allen’s character is referred to when the end credits roll). No character is memorable, well portrayed, rudimentarily fleshed out, or even likeable. There isn’t even a cynical undercurrent to writing such loathsome players in order to inspire the audience to cheer for ironic elimination. Just stick the boring lot in harm’s way and let the blood flow is the philosophy at play.
It’s been remarked that the only character worthy of note in the Final Destination franchise is Death, who’s generally manifested as a trickster wind agitating precariously perched objects that turn an otherwise random collection of knickknacks into a Rube Goldberg like deathtrap. Considering this, the real appeal of the Final Destination was never so much the blood and gore as it was the fact that the character onscreen could wind up dead at any moment from anything. A relentless omnipresent malevolence playing the antagonist is far more effective at creating a thick atmosphere of dread than a cookie-cutter psychopath armed with a kitchen knife. And while I can admire the horror movie that is able to create a truly terrifying scenario in broad daylight, The Final Destination resolves to shoot itself in the foot by giving the audience clues as to how the next unlucky sap is going to bite the bullet. Whenever disaster is about to strike, Nick suffers a brief acid trip that lets us know exactly what to be wary of, be it a man with a cigarette or a shiny quarter. Where’s the terror in knowing what to expect next? There are times when the movie throws a curveball and tries to lead us astray, but in those instances one must wonder what’s being undermined more: the premise, or the terror.
Barring the leading character’s dread sabotaging hot flashes, the worst part of The Final Destination is how uninspired the entire movie is. Truth be told, this instalment is more of a greatest hits collection than a brand new entry in a series. All the highest points of the movie are essentially slightly reworked sequences from the second and third instalments with a more loathsome cast in substitution. A couple of characters are cut into large chunks, an immobilized person dies in their hospital room, a nail-gun becomes self-aware, and the silent bus strikes again. The only remarkable thing is how it took only four horror films prominently featuring the “you can’t cheat death” motif, all within the same franchise, to wear out an otherwise novel concept. Has the Rube Goldberg deathtrap really been reduced to the careless storage of inflammables and combustibles that can tip and spill at the slightest provocation? Death just doesn’t seem into it anymore.
In case you’re wondering, no, the 3-D does not add to the movie in any significant way. If all you’re going to use the technology for is throwing objects very suddenly at the camera, you might as well not bother.
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