Final Destination 3 (2006)
★★ / ★★★★
James Wong is back to direct the third entry of the “Final Destination” series, and although it reaches some highs, the picture is let down by an overly simplistic screenplay. It is a shame because “Final Destination 2” is a step in the right direction: It increases the ante by taking the original idea that those who manage to escape what should be certain deaths will in fact die sooner or later and expanding upon the idea in twisty and thrilling ways. There is not one, not two, but three interesting twists. In this second sequel, there is a neat idea: Photographs provide hints at at how the survivors will die after they escape the horrific roller coaster crash. But the ingenuity stops there. The rest of the time is a waiting game, simply going down the list of who will die next. We already know the “how,” so it is a mistake to go on autopilot.
This picture aims for deaths scenes that are more savage and brutal than its predecessors. The signature dark humor remains, especially when someone drops dead, but I noticed I felt quite badly for the characters we never get a chance to know. The scene in the tanning salon with the cliché narcissistic dumb blondes quickly comes to mind. (Although the transition between tanning beds and coffins made me chuckle.) I think it is because nearly every other scene serves to remind the audience that the teens are about to graduate high school and so what should be a hopeful time is marred by Death’s grip.
Like the first two movies, the third installment’s highlight is its opening scene involving a premonition at an amusement park. This time, we follow nice girl Wendy (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a self-proclaimed control freak, as she warns her friends—while undergoing a panic attack herself—that something is about to go horribly wrong with the roller coaster they’re on. There is strong attention to detail: the excitement of the riders, the normal (and abnormal) shaking of the tracks, obstructions that will trigger a Domino Effect, the sheer terror on the teens’ faces as shoulder restraints come off suddenly and the threat of being thrown off their seats becomes a very real possibility, faces smashed in, guts thrown all over the place. It is ugly, horrific, and you cannot look away—even though you want to.
But as the work goes on, especially toward the halfway point, a sense of familiarity starts to take hold. The aforementioned photograph plot device is curious, but it is not enough to create a compelling experience. It is like a joke without a punchline. Instead, the screenplay appears stuck wrestling with bad dialogue. For example, just when we are beginning to think that obnoxious jock Kevin (Ryan Merriman) is not the idiot he passes himself to be in public (he exhibits moments of sensitivity in private), the character claims, “I’m not the total idiot you think I am.” Could it be any more on the nose? Are we meant to laugh?
Unlike the second film that doesn’t try so hard to surpass the original, “Final Destination 3” does. The subtle wind that signals that Death is in the vicinity is turned into all-out hurricane, for example. At one point I wondered if the wind machine was malfunctioning. Surely everyone else around the area is able to notice the sudden gust, not just the tormented girl with the premonitions? It goes to show that in horror films, turning down the dial—this time literal—goes a long way. There are nifty deaths here and there, but the work as a whole does not offer an enveloping, unsettling experience.