You know how sometimes you’re in an abandoned church, fighting off huge, red, skinless man-beasts that can crawl on walls, and you’re out of ammo, and just at the last second a hot chick on a motorcycle crashes through a stained-glass window and saves the day? The people who made “Resident Evil: Apocalypse” have been there, too, so they can totally empathize.
For reasons I cannot fathom, this sequel to the 2002 hit has been highly anticipated, and I suppose those who have looked forward to it will not be disappointed. It is approximately just as loud, gross and stupid as its predecessor was, and you get to see Milla Jovovich’s boobs. End of review.
Post-script: Paul W.S. Anderson, who mis-wrote and mis-directed the first film, only mis-wrote this one. He was unavailable to mis-direct, because he was busy mis-directing “Alien Vs. Predator.” Stepping in to mis-direct “Apocalypse” is Alexander Witt, making his mis-directing debut after working on dozens of films as a second-unit mis-director.
“Apocalypse” is basically just another zombie movie, where if a zombie bites you, you become one, and so forth. It might seem more thrilling if there hadn’t just been “28 Days Later” and “Dawn of the Dead,” both of which were much scarier, funnier and more creative than this is.
Milla Jovovich returns as Alice, one of only two survivors of the lab accident that occupied the first film. In the sequel, the so-called T-Virus has escaped the lab and infected Raccoon City, leading Alice and various others to band together, fight the zombies and other such beasts, try to get out of the city, yada yada yada. It plays like a video game, with appropriate increases in difficulty as Alice and company get closer and closer to their goal. You may rest assured that one of the members of Alice’s group is a wise-cracking black guy (Mike Epps), on hand to say sassy things — you know, just like every single other horror film ever made. They’re not even trying here.
D (1 hr., 34 min.; )
