This fucking dogshit, overly simplistic chunk of arse plays out like a mid-nineties video game cut-scene, but one that's actually more predictable than sunrise.
Sam Worthington, Australia's least rewarding export since Fosters, plays Trundle McBlankcanvas who decides to become a large blue homosexual on the Ewok planet and fall in love with a pathetically anthropomorphic tree-hippy. They talk Puffin book romance for ten minutes and he decides to adopt their etc. Etc. Etc. Big fight at the end led by Colonel Nasty and his platoon of cunting cliches.
But you probably knew all that as it would appear that until tonight, I was the only human who hadn't seen this fucking animated placenta.
Right, now, you could argue that this film is making a comment on American foreign policy, bollocks to that. The actions of those cunts (the policy makers, not all Americans) speak for themselves, if thousands and thousands of dead people isn't enough to create an eternity of regret, then this neon coloured spunk puddle isn't going to make a shit of difference. There's nursery rhymes with greater emotional resonance.
The animation looks crap.
The physics are terrible, some seriously poor motion.
The story is pop-up book basic.
The acting is utterly YouTube.
The weaponry?! For fuck's sake, bi-pedal mech suits that carry knives? Attack crafts with open gunning positions? Rota powered war ships?
James Cameron may have created one of my all time favourite films, 29 years ago, but pretty much everything he's done since suggests to me that he's money chasing hack who these days wouldn't recognise creativity or a good idea if they took turns fucking him up the arse for a week.
Although that would probably be far more enjoyable than having to sit through this torturous mud-biscuit ever again.
2008: The near complete film passing through the edit suite.
Pic of dog from householdriot's flickr page. Ta.