Another in the shaky cam genre. The premise is fairly straight forward, with potential legs. A plane crashes in a secret government facility akin to Area 57. Some kind of monster, presumably a military experiment, is loose in the area and the survivors of the crash must also survive the monster.
Things go reasonably well in the opening scene. We are introduced to the main protagonists as they embark the aircraft and engage in friendly banter. We identify immediately with the charismatic photo-journalist and a variety of other peripheral characters. The two lead roles, giggly teenage girls presumably designed to appeal to the movie's target demographic, are intolerably irritating. This is not intentional. We are supposed to root for them throughout. Suffice to say that I did not.
When the plane crashes, so too does the film. What ensues is an improv nightmare of epic proportions. The acting ranges from stage-school dire to 'a sterling effort all things considered', with watchable performances from James and Melanie Lyons (are those guys married?) and Brendan Patrick Connor as the socially incapable Charlie but silliness and over-acting fare from everyone else.
There really is no need to hide the rest of the story behind spoiler alerts. People run around and scream a lot. There's a ridiculous amount of comedy ketchup blood but no budget for real gore and the monster is about as frightening as the plot is imaginative.
If ever a movie represented with unerring (yet unwitting) veracity the dumbed-down and technically lazy state of modern cinema, Tape 407 is it. No script, no plot, no direction and nobody cares. You'll be relieved when it's over and that hollow feeling you have inside? That'll be your sense of expectation as a paying member of modern cinema-going audiences finally diminished to zero.
Things go reasonably well in the opening scene. We are introduced to the main protagonists as they embark the aircraft and engage in friendly banter. We identify immediately with the charismatic photo-journalist and a variety of other peripheral characters. The two lead roles, giggly teenage girls presumably designed to appeal to the movie's target demographic, are intolerably irritating. This is not intentional. We are supposed to root for them throughout. Suffice to say that I did not.
When the plane crashes, so too does the film. What ensues is an improv nightmare of epic proportions. The acting ranges from stage-school dire to 'a sterling effort all things considered', with watchable performances from James and Melanie Lyons (are those guys married?) and Brendan Patrick Connor as the socially incapable Charlie but silliness and over-acting fare from everyone else.
There really is no need to hide the rest of the story behind spoiler alerts. People run around and scream a lot. There's a ridiculous amount of comedy ketchup blood but no budget for real gore and the monster is about as frightening as the plot is imaginative.
If ever a movie represented with unerring (yet unwitting) veracity the dumbed-down and technically lazy state of modern cinema, Tape 407 is it. No script, no plot, no direction and nobody cares. You'll be relieved when it's over and that hollow feeling you have inside? That'll be your sense of expectation as a paying member of modern cinema-going audiences finally diminished to zero.