Death has a plan

Reviewing a Final Destination movie is an exercise in futility. Instead of watching closely and taking copious notes, a reviewer simply needs a handy checklist:

1. Cursory character introductions, check. 
2. Spectacular opening disaster to dispatch the entire cast in a variety of gruesome ways, check. 
3. Panic-stricken realisation that the carnage was merely a premonition, followed by frantic escape, check. 
4. Sombre funeral scene as survivors attempt to make sense of their inexplicable good fortune, check. 
5. Series of grim vignettes as two-dimensional characters are offed in hilariously sticky accidents, check. 
6. One final twist, just as the hero/heroine believes that they've escaped death's design, check. 

Now up to its fifth chapter, the Final Destination franchise has got the formula down to a fine art. Albeit the kind of art that's splattered like Pollock's parquet floor. On the surface, there's little reason to go see the latest instalment of the decade-old series - even the film's much publicised 3D enhancement is a second go-round, having already shot its load in the audience's Real-D glasses last time round.

However, the previous sequel might be considered something of a test run, since this time around the producers have clearly raised their game. Not only in terms of inventiveness, but also the quality of the effects and the 3D execution of the, well, executions. Heads are smashed, bodies eviscerated and eyeballs violated in glorious detail. If you despair for the youth of today, this could be the most fun you'll ever cram into ninety minutes.

Of all the films that have been released in James Cameron's favourite format, none lend themselves more immediately to the third dimension than this accident-prone series. Its makers don't need to contrive any reason to wave things in the viewer's face - that's the whole point of the films.

The film isn't without its faults, largely on account of the audience's overfamiliarity with the concept. When a character announces early on that he'll win a tricky colleague over "Even if it kills me", the irony is met with a groan of predictability. Similarly, the ominous harbingers of the early series entries have been replaced with less effective heralds of doom - hence the needless close-up on a sign on some bus steps that reads "Watch your step". That's not a premonition, it's just common sense.

Oh, and can someone please tell me why, in 2011, we're still seeing scenes that depict a short-sighted character losing their glasses and suddenly staggering blindly around, like Helen Keller in a hedge maze? It was stupid enough when Velma kept losing her specs in Scooby Doo, without needing to see the live-action equivalent.

Quibbles aside, the makers of Final Destination 5 deserve some credit for managing to reinvigorate a franchise that was dangerously close to encountering a fatal mishap of its own. For the first time since the original, the series has found a director who knows how to differentiate between gags and gag reflex, whereas his predecessors simply settled for stirring it all together and hoping for the best. This film also adds a few new wrinkles to the mythology, which give its ending a more palpable sense of jeopardy than the previous films' increasingly hysterical denouements. There's also a pretty laudable twist in this tale to reward long-term fans of the series.

Even the cast can hold their severed heads high for managing to rise above their stock characterisations. These films have never prioritised casting, seemingly settling for whoever happened to be in town when the cameras start rolling. But this rag-tag group of low-rent lookalikes (particularly Tom Cruise and Drew Barrymore) at least manage to hold our interest until we see their nubile bodies pierced like a goth's earlobe.

Ten years on, it's safe to say that the franchise is still in reasonable health. Not bad for a series that started out as a speculative script for an episode of the X-Files. Unlike other long running series, which rely on wise-cracking, mask-wearing killers for their thrills, this concept demands innovation and creativity for its kills. With each new entry attempting to up the stakes, writers are willing to throw the kitchen sink (as well as any other implement that comes to hand) at their easily disassembled characters.

For the record, it's also worth mentioning that the Final Destinations represent the closest that Hollywood has ever come to understanding the debilitating power of OCD. Forget about Jack Nicholson's Oscar-winning turn in 'As Good As It Gets' - anyone who's ever spent half an hour repeatedly checking the taps, sniffing the gas hob or moving glasses away from the edge of the table, will recognise the special insight that these film-makers bring to their subject.

Sticking it where the sun don't shine

The Hollywood bean-counters are struggling to understand how the 3D second sequel to a movie based on a cable TV show managed to break Autumn box office records this last weekend. I guess nobody was expecting a film about a bunch of middle-aged adolescents abusing each others' genitals, to earn $50 million. The shock was akin to being catapulted into the air in a shit-filled Portaloo - just one of the stunts offered in the latest installment of Jackass.

No-one's ever been able to fully explain the appeal of Johnny Knoxville and his calamitous cohorts, except for that fact they display a singularly unique lack of vanity or restraint in their pursuit of the ultimate thrill.

Snarky commentators have been content to sit back and condemn the boys for their idiotic exploits, but they're missing the point. It may be an oxymoron, but the Jackass gang are knowingly mindless.

Given their propensity for penile abuse and amateur proctology, it's easy to point the finger (sheathed in a rubber glove) and accuse them of having latent homosexual leanings. But it seems that the boys don't so much lean, as bend over willingly.

In a new interview with Vanity Fair, timed to coincide with the new film's release, Johnny and Steve-O were able to take the flatulence out of interviewer Eric Spitznagel's sails, as the journalist attempted to get under the skin of the stars' obsession with man-on-man action.

In a surprisingly articulate response to a question about all the "anal play and nipple torture and testicle touching", Steve-O explained that "We always thought it was funny to force a heterosexual MTV generation to deal with all of our thongs and homoerotic humor. In many ways, all our gay humor has been a humanitarian attack against homophobia. We’ve been trying to rid the world of homophobia for years, and I think gay people really dig it too."

So the next time you see a bunch of men inserting fireworks into each other's orifices and lighting the fuse in fits of giggles, don't be so quick to judge. It turns out, they're making a political statement about close-mindedness and intolerance, as well as recommending a cost-effective solution for anal depilation. And that's something that you can try at home.

In your face, Hollywood

Call it two steps forward, one step back. James Cameron spent longer on Avatar than on most of his marriages, in the hope that he could make 3D technology a viable story-telling tool, rather than a gimmick to drive up ticket prices. This was no 'smell-o-vision' novelty - it was the future of cinema.

So he's probably feeling a little disheartened to see how quickly Hollywood has raced to dig out those old polarised-lens glasses in the hope of repeating his multi-billion dollar success. Virtually every major movie heading to the big screen has been hastily retooled to ensure that audiences are kept ducking in their seats and waving their arms hopelessly in front of their faces.

This weekend, cinema-goers were treated to Louis Leterrier's remake of Clash of the Titans, replacing dated Harryhausen stop-motion effects with shiny new CGI, and even more dated Harry Hamlin with flavour-of-the-month Sam Worthington (hot off Avatar, funnily enough).

Although reviews were fair-to-indifferent, the real criticism was directed at the film's crappy attempt at a multi-dimensional spruce-up. As the LA Times critic commented: "It's doubtful that records are kept about this sort of thing, but consider the possibility that 'Clash of the Titans' is the first film to actually be made worse by being in 3D."

The problem is, Clash and other movies like it, weren't filmed with 3D in mind. Instead, they were completed in 2D and then converted on the cheap. Well, OK, 'on the cheap' is a comparative term, given that conservative estimates place the cost of that extra dimension at around $120,000 per minute.

Asked for his opinion, Cameron was diplomatic, simply pointing out "It's never going to be as good as if you shot it in 3D... They're converting 'Clash of the Titans' in eight weeks. But I'm guessing six months to a year to do it right."

Nonetheless, the extra five dollars per ticket to see Medusa's ophidian weave wriggling in your lap helped the new version of Clash of the Titans to a stellar $60million opening weekend.

Interestingly, while the debate was raging about the film's depth-enhancing effects, viewers in California were unwittingly treated to a fourth-dimension for no extra cost. During mid-afternoon screenings on Sunday, just as the monstrous Kraken rose from the sea, a 7.2 magnitude earthquake hit Southern California, giving movie-goers a rumbling, shaking sensation that even ILM couldn't fake.

For the majority of audiences, it seems that this new retelling of Greek mythology makes for an instantly forgettable experience, no matter how many dimensions you happen to see it in. As Michael Bay said in an interview recently, "You can’t just shit out a 3D movie". However, as he's successfully proven on more than one occasion, a Transformers movie can be easily evacuated from Hollywood's bowels.

Coming at you

The impact of Avatar continues to be felt across Hollywood. Some people are wondering whether movies will become more politically daring when addressing modern imperialism, some are questioning the growing prevalence of 'synthespians', and some are wondering how to apply James Cameron's 3D technology in building a better bongo flick.

The porn industry has always attracted early adopters (as well as premature finishers). In fact, home video, satellite broadcasting, DVD and the internet all owe as much of their success to innovative grot-merchants as Kleenex or Atrixo.

So it's not exactly shocking to discover that pornographers are keen to embrace the third dimension in giving their films a little extra depth. Actually, this isn't the first time that adult movies have delved into 3D - 1969's 'The Stewardess' managed to rake in almost $30 million thanks to its jiggling extra-dimensional boobs.

Sadly, anyone hoping to immerse themselves in a world of bored housewives, tumescent plumbers and disobedient schoolgirls will have to wait a while until full penetration is achieved - the TV technology is still in its infancy. Rob Smith, a director of Hustler Video Group, said "I'm hoping by the fourth quarter of this year it will be at the point where we can justify doing a 3D product."

The other problem is those pesky glasses - according to Ali Joone, founder of Digital Playground, "3D glasses are also an issue because people don't want to be encumbered by eyewear when viewing a film." I would have thought that, as long as their hands were free, this wouldn't be an issue.

The directors have their own challenges too. Aside from budgetary restrictions, there's the issue of image cropping. "We noticed when we were watching the footage later that you have to frame things differently for 3D. When part of an arm or leg is cut out of a shot in a 2D movie it looks okay, he said, but in 3D it looks kind of strange."

I think someone needs to point out to him that it's not the limbs that viewers will be focusing on. They'll be too busy ducking, fearful that they're about to have an eye poked out.

Call me a cynic, but I think 3D will be another temporary trend. After all, what's the point of aiming 3D technology at an audience that's in danger of going blind anyway?