More like a series of vignettes strung loosely together with an increasingly stale plot, The Final Destination isn’t what you would call, a “good movie.” Instead, it’s an amusement ride. The movie acts like a Universal Theme Park run amok, or worse, one of those over-priced moving movie rides seen in malls and theme parks. You know the ones. The $10 a pop “rides” that strap you in the seat with a flickering roller coaster playing on the screen while the little trailer moves and bumps according to the coaster’s actions. The anticipation easily outweighs the actual movie and patrons are ravaged for $10.
Viewers familiar with the franchise know the drill. A bunch of stellar-looking twenty-somethings narrowly escape death through one kid having a case of clairvoyance. Fate, being the wacky sonofabitch we know Fate to be, is on the hunt to kill off the kids while they look for any way to stop it. Along the way, ludicrous situations arrive to brutally kill each stereotype in an overly elaborate and somewhat hilarious fashion.
