The Final Destination is a predictable car crash right from the starting line. Oh boy. This rip-roaring mess. As you may know by now, I believe the ‘Final Destination’ franchise to be disposable entertainment that is beyond mediocre. The series has mostly stagnated with the same emotive response each time I witness Death ingeniously murder his visionary survivors, managing to induce a new fear for the most harmless of apparatus. Showers, ladders and of course that sunbed scenario. This fourth chapter however dips so low in terms of quality, that I’d rather Death pour cement mixture down my throat before I finish this review. A college student has a premonition of a horrible car accident, he saves various friends and civilians only to find that Death finds a way to take back their souls.
Blah blah blah, it’s the same premise once again for the fourth time. Oh, but in obnoxious 3 frickin’ D. Perhaps some sharp object will spring out the screen and gouge my eyes out. My fingers are crossed. The point is, you don’t watch these films for the story. Never have, never will. You bunch of sadistic masochists, me included, pleasure yourselves over the ornate death sequences that these survivors coincidentally find themselves in. Organs sucked into a swimming pool drain? Got that. Eaten by an escalator? Umm sure. A tow truck flicking into neutral, lowering the tow hook thing, catching and dragging a drunken racist whilst the road friction causes sparks that ignite the leaking oil drenching said racist? Wait just a minute!
These “ingenious” scenes of sadism are so elaborate and improbable, relying heavily on a Rude Goldberg chain reaction, that you’re constantly looking on with a heavy cloud of disbelief bearing down upon you. Every gust of wind Death breathes down upon objects to start these reactions has the gale force of a hurricane. Occasionally the audience are played, as Ellis embeds some red herrings into the mix, only to then end of a purposefully gimmicky 3D accident that makes the entire arduous ordeal look cheaper than a faulty car wash. Perhaps the crudely obvious “I got my eye on you” segment was the epitome of “fun” to be had. Yet it still falls victim to terrible visual effects and woeful acting.
Oh lord the acting! Don’t get me started. It was abhorrently dreadful, and that’s me describing it politely with zero profanity. Wooden, emotionless and downright unusual. If the tame death scenes weren’t going to put you in a snooze, the acting will. And the dialogue, which was unnecessarily racist. And the inept direction. Heck, everything will.
An example of the uselessness shown onscreen would be the moment that the remaining survivors believed to have escaped Death’s list. Now, bear in mind that they’ve witnessed approximately four deaths between them. Instead of, oh I don’t know, mourning and/or investigating their theories. They instead go out shopping, spending time at the movies (ironically in 3D), and having a jolly good time. As if nothing actually happened. Never mind the double premonition (should’ve called this “The Final Final Destination”), it’s these superficial girls, to which one of them nearly drowned in their “machine” of a car, that annihilate all resonance to be had.
Two weeks pass and, again, they’re all laughing and sucking on their Frappuccinos or whatever. Nah. I’m done. Atleast the introductory and end credit sequences were somewhat cool, I suppose. Despite being the highest grossing film in the franchise (3D tickets are more expensive clearly), it’s the worst of the lot by a massive margin and really should’ve been THE Final Destination.