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Doom (Frank's Take)
01/12/2005 Source: Frank Ochieng 

The movie's obvious title says it all, says Frank, because some audiences will feel doomed when enduring this tedious ultra-synthetic rush ride that dares to emulate the frightening frivolity of the 1986 blockbuster Aliens.

Buy Doom in the USA - or Buy Doom in the UK

Director Andrzej Bartkowiak's Doom is undoubtedly energetic and unapologetic when it comes to the mindless mayhem infested with outrageous monsters and its shameless display of rigid militarism. True, Bartkowiak's (Romeo Must Die, Cradle 2 the Grave, Exit Wounds) murky and overzealous sci-fi actioner is clearly not meant for the sophisticated cinema crowd. However, as a grand big screen video game brought to exaggerated life, Doom is about as flexibly entertaining as a needlessly squeaky joystick.

Doom is based on the immensely popular First Person Shooter (FPS) video games. Naturally, the rousing buzz caused by raging big guns and brutal blasts will predictably appeal to the adolescent male demographics that are willing to bask in this mindless hyper-violent piece of entertainment.


Whereas Doom the video game has a perverse yet infectious ribaldry that captures the imagination, Doom the movie adaptation is woefully silly-minded in its wasteful excessiveness. Basically, Bartkowiak and screenwriters David Callaham and Wesley Strick conjure up an outlandish demonstration of hedonistic showboating. Hence, the script requires little or no creative insight into the pumped-up movie (or game) as a captivating entity. Wouldn't it have been easier to simply point the hectic cameras at an enthusiastic fanboy playing the game of Doom?

The by-the-numbers plot follows the Response Technical Squad, a core of hard-nosed galaxy-based Marines that are sent on a search-and-rescue mission in 2145 to investigate the cynical goings-on at a research station. This band of military misfits are led by muscle-bound Sarge (Duane "The Rock" Johnson). The cursing squad leader oversees a bunch of offbeat soldiers armed with dysfunctional personality traits.

There's the moody Reaper (Karl Urban) demonstrating some sibling angst with his gorgeous no nonsense scientific sis (Rosamund Pike). Also on board are a religiously fanatic ex-con (Ben Daniels), a creepy chemical substance abuser (Richard Brake) and an impressionable upstart (Al Weaver). Overall, these group of wacky warriors wallow in senseless overdone gun battles and other precarious predicaments that make up the laughable high-voltage proceedings.

Sarge and his trigger-happy combatants must determine a couple of factors. First, they have to define the genetic make-up of the menacing cretins that seem to lurk around the darkly lit corners and corridors. Are these monsters an elaborate genetic human experimentation or are they just your average ordinary aliens? Secondly, how does this crass crew dispose of these monstrous freaks without being overwhelmed by the dank surroundings that impede their dubious agenda?

Some credit can be given to Bartkowiak's kinetic commitment to stay true to the wired inspiration of the rollicking video game. Doom is a gloriously gimmicky in its giddiness as a slaughtering showcase where the cheesy recklessness resonates with the sordid visual and audible stimulation of destruction. But copying the blueprint rigors of the video game doesn't make this boisterous movie very independent on its own artistic merit.

With hammy acting, heavy-handed special effects, a head-banging metal rock soundtrack, annoying chants of "Game Time!" from the verbose participants and overactive cocked guns that do the tough-minded talking, Doom isn't crafty enough to assume its distinctive identity as a Neanderthal-loving narrative that stands alone.

Erratically sketchy and unimaginative, Bartkowiak's brain-numbing spectacle ironically runs out of gunpowder right through the middle act. Doom may have the blazing authenticity that's bluntly felt by its computer game admirers. However, as a frenetic feature length film it is an over-extended misfire.

Frank Ochieng

(c) Frank Ochieng 2005

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