Film Reviews

Doomsday

• Rating:
• Director: Neil Marshall
• Starring: Adrian Lester
• Details: UK / US / 105mins (18)

A virus called 'The Reaper' has gone airborne in Scotland, causing outright panic and millions of deaths. To deal with the epidemic, the British government essentially quarantines the entire country by surrounding it with a huge wall. 25 years later and survivor Eden (Mitra) is a cop in London, cleaning up the streets in an abrasive and ultra-violent manner. But when the virus appears to be reborn, she must go over the wall with a team, to try and find a cure amongst the survivors. Having helmed cult favourites Dog Soldiers and The Descent, writer/director Neil Marshall bravely attempts an action/horror hybrid on a medium-sized budget, and comes undone with the sheer weight of it all. There is simply too much going on here for it to be enjoyable, either as an action film, or as a gore-ridden splatterfest. Granted, it has both in spades, and easily outpaces the likes of Rambo for the gratuitous violence - heads don't just get chopped off here, people get burned alive, hacked to pieces and then have their heads chopped off (and eaten). But while Marshall ostensibly wears his influences on his sleeve (Aliens casts a long shadow), it's hard not to see it as simply derivative. When the gang venture into the no-fly-zone of Scotland, they're met with baddies so theatrical in every aspect you'll be too busy chuckling at their 'Beyond Thunderdome' clobber to be either frightened or entertained by them. Our core team are offed so damn quickly, too, that you won't get a chance to recognise them from whatever crap TV show they bit-parted in, as Marshall soon has a gang of Billy Idol lookalikes descend on them, blunt objects in hand. The unnecessarily excessive plot makes no sense at all, and an overly-ominous voiceover by McDowell (who appears later) fails to clean up gaping holes that are simply ignored. Sure, there are plusses: Mitra is surprisingly watchable as our hardened heroine, pouting and pensive one minute, opening up kegs of the whoop-ass the next, while a car chase at the end does amuse. But when the fires have burnt out, what we have left is a weak version of 28 Weeks Later with added guns and bad haircuts.

Review by Mike Sheridan