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Well here we have it again, Nicholas Cage playing an over the top action star who resembles more of a pale, rotting, corpse, than a man to be reckoned with. It is unfortunate for all mankind that he had to win an Oscar for "Leaving Las Vegas" for now we must all be bombarded with his crappy acting style and poor choices in scripts. I would have rather watched a small, rabid, monkey club a brown baby seal for two hours, than watch half a second more of Cage in a puke brown leasire suit do his best to duke the crowning turd on this mass of crap.
Gary Sinese was no better as the Naval Officer who had been to one too many Tailhook conventions that the testoserone was about to burst out of testicles and all over Cage. His acting was in rare form as he muddled through a scipt designed to have as many plot twists that were about as thin as my ten year old, skid marked, tiddy-whiteys. Incidentaly this film smelled about as well also.
I will not debate that Brian DePalma's camera work was amazing, most films super quick pans and gut wrenching tilts cause me only minor sea sickness, but this film wins by a yard. Which about how far my vomit traveled after five minutes of his up and down, side to side puke fest. The only fortunate thing is that it landed on the old lady next to me . Anything smelled better than her cat urine soaked slippers.
Next what was the purpose of the tropical storm (hurricane)? It had no reason being in the movie other than to add some lame feeling of being trapped which really didn't matter because the entire cast was trapped inside the casino anyway. It served no purpose. Only I really did feel trapped, by the ten year old retarded third world refugee with lice and the cat lady who smelled like she bathed regularly, in a tub filled with cat wizz.
It is always useless plot devices like these made up by the worste of Hollywood script doctors. Men who job it is to take a an awfull scipt, eat a copy of the it and submit whatever surprise is left behind in the toilet. But to make matters worse for this film he must have drank twenty cups of coffee and a spicy mexican meal, as this script I am sure this scipt burned his sphyincter as it rocketed out.
My feeling on this film is one of disgust. Disgust that Cage was allowed to play the gimpy cop to Sinese's raging hormone of a Officer. Disgust that the cinematographer didn't rip the camera out of DePalma's hands and club him to death with it. And finally disgust that I probably am the only one who can see the glareing faults that make up this collossal mistake.
The Hatebringer
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