With some of the cast having almost all of their scenes completely away from the actors, the dynamic that worked quite well in the previous film (Meet The Fockers) is mostly lost. It's no thinker by any stretch of the imagination, with some rather basic plot progression and even dunderheaded moments of character development/comedy ... it's all a bit underwhelming. There are some chuckles to be had for those familiar with the series, but if they plan on doing a fourth flick they'd better buck up their ideas after this.
Darren Aronofsky's warped ballet flick is a wonderful mix of his over-the-shoulder style with the more strained psychological moments of films like Dario Argento's career-defining Suspiria, and David Cronenberg's entries into his own sub-category of 'body horror'. It wisely doesn't become ponderous and instead gets on with following Natalie Portman doing her absolute best to bring her ballerina crashing down into a pit of paranoia and perversion.
This Australian indie horror makes for assuredly grim viewing, but intriguingly many of the worst moments of violence are left off-screen. More often than not we're witnesses to the brutal beginnings and creepy closings of violent sequences - it's a nice stylistic twist in this dark tale of a father who seeks to track down every last man who was involved in the porno production that preceded his daughter's untimely death. Disturbing and tense, but also shot with confidence, it makes for good genre viewing ... mind you, you might not be rushing back to see it any time too soon.
Otherwise known as 'The Lordi Movie' (aye, the horror rockers who are most widely known among the general populace for winning Eurovision a few years back), this is a turgid load of old cobblers. Missing the 'so bad it's good' mark by a country mile, it's just bad. The script is dull, the dialogue is cliched and boring, the plot makes absolutely no sense, there's a total lack of tension or suspense, and the inclusions of members of Lordi prove to be perfunctory and uninspired. For a flick as short as this, it doesn't half drag ... a bunch of people you don't give a stuff about randomly end up in some sort of hospital-bound hell, and all they do is traipse around all-too familiar corridors, briefly meet a member of Lordi, then run down to the next level to repeat the whole tedious exercise all over again. Unless you're a hardcore Lordi fan, don't even bother.