Review: Riddick

Riddick
Cert: 15 / 119 mins / Dir. David Twohy



Now, I'm fully aware that throughout my reviews, I tend to rely on the staple of directly comparing the film in hand to others it may seem to borrow from, either visually or thematically. I know that this technique is neither new nor original, yet it positively glistens, gleams, like virgin snow catching the sunlight on Christmas Day morning, compared to the two hours of unimaginative, derivative, first-draft drivel I've just sat through. Imagine an Aliens rip-off, shot through a lens of Dune, and with a peppering of every sci-fi first person shooter you've ever played. Now put Vin Diesel in it. You've already given more thought to the film than the five (five) people who've admitted liability.

After the opening twenty minutes in the company of Vin, you begin to pray for the other characters to arrive; if only because of how embarrassing it's getting watching Diesel be out-acted by an animated dog. Then, once the first band of identikit space-mercs arrive and Jordi Mollà begins to speak, you realise how lucky you've been so far, because at least dog didn't have any lines. The next hour and a half should be a reliably by-the-numbers sci-fi actioner, and all the time nobody's speaking it is. The night-time scenes work best, as the rolling sandscapes shot during the day have a distinctly artificial quality to them, reeking of greenscreens and wind-machines.

Despite all my moaning about it, Riddick never quite becomes unwatchable (read: it can't even succeed at being awful), but it's definitely substandard. For the more dialogue-heavy scenes, I had trouble focusing on the screen because my eyes wouldn't stop rolling. I know that Vin Diesel can't deliver a script to save his life, but I expect better from everyone else involved. And extra props go to that writing team again for taking one of the most important rising actresses in sci-fi, and effectively giving her an unchanging, one-dimensional character and a metaphorical pat on the arse. No, wait… a literal pat on the arse. Well done, guys.

Considering the potential that was there at the drawing-board stage, Riddick is lazy. Considering the film's lack of drive to be anything more than a testosterone-fuelled, one-note gun-fest, it's disappointing. Considering the money the film will take, it's an outrage.

And that's without me going into the film borrowing lines from other movies and the whole Dash Rendar/Swoop-bike ripoff thing that's going on...


Yeah.



Not really.



Probably. Which is the sad thing.



Telly.



A little.



I shouldn't imagine so.



Not that I heard.

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