From our last month's installment of Fortress, nothing has really changed in American Siege.
We still have writer and director Edward Drake responsible for yet another Willis-Drake disaster. Maybe Drake has something on Brucey, or they're related, because this flop-film duo are responsible for Apex, Cosmic Sin, Breach, and we have two more upcoming flops from this disaster duo.
Once again, Drake gives us a predictable, cliched, convoluted and sloppy screenplay, riddled with plot and technical issues, along with the atrocious "I hope there's no aliens" type dialogue. Even the sets this time were hilarious - opening a huge vault door, going down the stairs to a basement bigger than a high school gymnasium, that also has a high barn roof with daylight coming in from the exhaust fans. Clearly, the set and location manager didn't understand the assignment. His directing was just as bad with unnecessary nostril close-ups, 1980's slow-mos, and long dragged out and unnecessary scenes. The acting by most was decent, especially Anna Hindman and Cullen G. Chambers - obviously not Brucey, as he once again looked like the most inexperienced, loud and expressionless actor of them all, just grunting his lines in between drinks. He was just there for the paycheck. The cinematography was bland, but the score was surprisingly fitting and proper, unlike the typical loud, constant, unfitting and annoying B film scores. Thankfully the 90 min runtime flew by with some decent pacing.
It's a very generous 3/10 from me, all mostly going to The Great One's wife and son, Janet Jones and Trevor Gretzky for their compelling performances. Tune in for next month's installment of yet another "Brucey's Monthly Lousy Movies" review of Gasoline Alley, coming to your nearest discount VOD provider real soon.
We still have writer and director Edward Drake responsible for yet another Willis-Drake disaster. Maybe Drake has something on Brucey, or they're related, because this flop-film duo are responsible for Apex, Cosmic Sin, Breach, and we have two more upcoming flops from this disaster duo.
Once again, Drake gives us a predictable, cliched, convoluted and sloppy screenplay, riddled with plot and technical issues, along with the atrocious "I hope there's no aliens" type dialogue. Even the sets this time were hilarious - opening a huge vault door, going down the stairs to a basement bigger than a high school gymnasium, that also has a high barn roof with daylight coming in from the exhaust fans. Clearly, the set and location manager didn't understand the assignment. His directing was just as bad with unnecessary nostril close-ups, 1980's slow-mos, and long dragged out and unnecessary scenes. The acting by most was decent, especially Anna Hindman and Cullen G. Chambers - obviously not Brucey, as he once again looked like the most inexperienced, loud and expressionless actor of them all, just grunting his lines in between drinks. He was just there for the paycheck. The cinematography was bland, but the score was surprisingly fitting and proper, unlike the typical loud, constant, unfitting and annoying B film scores. Thankfully the 90 min runtime flew by with some decent pacing.
It's a very generous 3/10 from me, all mostly going to The Great One's wife and son, Janet Jones and Trevor Gretzky for their compelling performances. Tune in for next month's installment of yet another "Brucey's Monthly Lousy Movies" review of Gasoline Alley, coming to your nearest discount VOD provider real soon.