Resident Evil: Extinction
Woe be unto you, Paul W.S. Anderson, for handing over the final entry in your wife Milla Jovovich's zombie holocaust franchise to Russell Mulcahy. Yes, that Mulcahy, as in the crap action hack whose floundering career answers the question of what God does when there's already one Tony Scott. And damn you, Mr. Anderson, for filling your screenplay with so many terrific B ideas: A bioenhanced Alice (Jovovich) dealing with cool, new telekinetic superpowers; undead ravens scouring the earth; setting mankind's last stand in Las Vegas, baby; and, finally, a cruel tease that an army of Alice clones will overcome the evil, zombie-disease-creating Umbrella Corp.--all of it manhandled by Mulcahy so as to degrade the term "journeyman." What we get is indigestible pulp mulch as now lone gun Alice hooks up with a Nevada caravan of Mad Maxy refugees led by tuff chick Ali Larter hoping to escape to, er, Alaska. But Umbrella's mad scientist (Iain Glen) has other ideas, leading to an extended, incoherently lensed action/gore/CG blur between the living, undead, and corporate. Upside: Alice again fights zombie dogs and wears her signature red mini while doing so. Downside: everything else.