Watched Neil Marshall’s Doomsday yesterday.
The film is a post-apocalyptic rollercoaster ride best epitomized in just three words: poor impulse control.
A deficit exhibited by many characters in the film.
And by the director.
How else could the plotline that manages to cohesively include medieval combat, a deadly virus, futuristic military hardware, homages to genre directors, eighties music in entirely inappropriate places, domestic politics and a clan of cannibals that dresses like the seventies punk never went out of fashion.
All done in best possible taste, skirting the edge of hysteria, with plenty of gory effects on the side.
And a considerably pretty stuntwoman as the tattooed bad girl of the cover who’s been criminally underused in the industry ever since.
Entertaining, certainly. But don’t expect a plot without a few holes an ocean liner could drive through.