Directed by Michael J. Bassett Starring Adelaide Clemens, Kit Harington, Deborah Kara Unger 94 mins, general release, Cert 16
Life is tough for Heather Mason (Adelaide Clemens), a teenager who dreams nightly of a spooky fairground and a fiery death at the hands of an evil Dragon Tattoo doppleganger.
Heather, we learn, after some unnecessarily lengthy explanation, is Sharon Da Silva from 2006’s Silent Hill, delivered back to her dad (Sean Bean) from the horrible titular hinterland via a mirror and a magic glowing amulet. Father and daughter have thus far evaded the clutches of Carrie-Anne Moss’ evil cult. Now, as a private investigator (Martin Donovan) tracks them down, the Hill’s various faceless wraiths and icky incubi start bleeding into reality.
Heather defeats these early industrial-metal cliches with some assistance from dashing fellow student Vincent (Game of Thrones’ Kit Harrington) but her father is less fortunate. However, will she rescue him from the digitised sepia sameness of the dread nether- world? And will she notice that Vincent’s appearances coincide with the same dimensional shifts that spew forth a K-Tel package of monster familiars. Order now and get scary clown, creature with blades for eyes and deformed nurse with cleaver.
Hands up who wants a Silent Hill sequel? Anyone? Well you’re getting one so shut the hell up so the actors can tell you all about the first film while reenacting it. As before, the movie’s attempts to ape the alternate worlds of the Konami video game make for chaotic cause- and-effect. Why would an all- powerful supernatural cult require the services of a detective anyway? If this is a dream realm, how come Malcolm McDowell, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Deborah Kara Unger all dressed like tramps? The amulet does what now?
Taking over from departing franchise director Christophe Gans with less than half of the original production budget, Michael J Bassett injects some gimmicky 3D fun and a couple of humorous transitions. Still, there’s no disguising Silent Hill Revelation’s hand-me-down threadbareness. The nods to David Lynch, HR Giger and Texas Chain Saw Massacre that looked cute and innovative on the Playstation circa 1999, look awfully tired after nine games and two messy movies.
Derivative spectres fail to raise a single scare. Game “boss” Pyramid Head is considerably less intimidating than the average regular polygon. The oppressive CG grotesquerie recalls a greyer Green Lantern. The poor box-office figures for the first installment, a film that only limped toward breaking even in its DVD afterlife, makes you wonder why we’re being subjected a sequel in the first place.
“Come to Silent Hill” reads a “scary” message left for teen damsel Heather. Hell, no.
