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Dancing_P [ 5.0 ]
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Note to studios: next time you buy a script from those Crank dudes, let them direct it. Pathology comes from a script that's theoretically as insane as Crank but unfortunately is directed by (what I assume to be) a glum, humourless German dude with an efficient haircut. The director is trying so hard to suck the fun out of Pathology that he nearly succeeds in making the cloudy, dark, troubled horror film it clearly isn't.
Milo Ventimiglia plays a top-of-his-class med student with a beautiful girlfriend (Alyssa Milano) and promising future who takes a job as an intern with a prestigious pathology lab. He befriends the other students, a bunch of sadistic maniacs who take turns trying to stump the others by committing the perfect murder and using the body as study material the next day. As they get deeper into it, Ventimiglia starts to choke and the proverbial noose tightens around his neck.
Instead of the attention being focused on the kills (and there are a couple of doozies in here) the director plays up the non-existant psychological aspects of the film. I mean, this is a movie where the main character is led to believe that he has just married a girl's incestuous rapist father with poisoned crack and fucked next to the body (while smoking non-poisoned crack); forgive me if I think Peter Petrelli's moping isn't quite as compelling. It's a pretty glum movie by any standard, gray and industrial and packed with actors either taking themselves way too seriously or doing a bang-up job at making us believe they are. Look at Crank and re-read that sentence. Tell me this makes sense.
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chapter11 [ 4.0 ]
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Yeah, there's really no excuse for this shit. There's an intriguing premise afoot, a game script by Neveldine and Taylor, an oppressively gritty atmosphere, and an antagonistic Michael Weston, the only actor in the whole enterprise who seems to give a damn about his performance. And yet -- since, as Dancing_P pointed out, the "Crank" dudes didn't actually serve as _directors_ -- this movie flatlines. It flails about with no sense of direction, limps to its conclusion, and worst of all, hinges on a terrible Milo Ventimiglia performance. Not that there are many good Milo performances, mind you. It's just that this one's particularly flat. Skip.
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| Weighted Rating | : 6.1 |
| No. Ratings | : 2 | |
| No. Reviews | : 2 | |
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