B- grade . . . and proud of it
FOR all its new-fangled fixtures and trimmings, the Final Destination franchise still sticks like glue to that old horror movie maxim ‘‘ if in doubt, gross ’ em out’’.
If you missed the first four instalments – which have ranged in quality from so-so to so-umm-what-else-you-got? – you can be reassured you will not be suddenly stepping on to a minefield of masterful storytelling.
The original blood-spattered blueprint is as it ever was.
The producers round up a young cast of unknowns, pays ’ em peanuts, kills ’ em a couple of times ( you’re not a real FD player unless you’re first massacred in a dream sequence before you really get what’s coming to you) and boots ’ em right back to obscurity.
Who gets killed? Not important. How they’re killed? All important.
The Final Destination films are famous for the ridiculously elaborate lengths screenwriters will take to slaughter each and every character. As sick and sorry as some of the outcomes prove to be in FD5, there can be no denying there is often some wild imagination and genuine inspiration in play.
Two sequences in particular are remarkably strong by the middling standards of modern B-movie horror. The first is an impeccably designed demolition of a massive suspension bridge, filled from end to end with vehicles packed full of passengers.
The second is much smaller in scale, but just as horrifying. I won’t spoil it for you, but I will declare no one who makes it through this bit will ever look at Olympic gymnastics the same way again.