Next

Philip K. Dick must be going off like a spinning top in that deathbox of his thanks to the amount of crap "based" on his work. Next being based on anything by him is like me saying I based my decision to go to work on Lord Of The Rings because I too embarked on a journey to a predetermined destination to carry out some task. The poor sod.

I don't say the next statement lightly as I tend to go easy on a lot of Hollywood's rubbish fests, but Next may be one of the worst films I've ever seen, and no amount of whatever Jessica's in this in a tight top is going to save it. I'm actually struggling to think of a movie that abandons logic, even its own crazy movie logic, so freely. It's simply abysmal!

So, what's it about? Well from what's still left in my brain after I shoved a rusty hook up my nostril to scrape this chuff out it appears that Nic Cage is at his overacting best as a Vegas magician who can see a whole two minutes into the future. Wow, eh? Some power. Well it is if you're predicting what'll happen to someone on stage two minutes from now. When he gets drafted to avert a nuclear disaster you have to question how two minutes foresight's going to do much, but the FBI are experts in this so I should butt out. Anyway within seconds of this device being set up ol' "crazy eyes" Nic's predicting things right before they happen, such as an armed robbery or the positions of security guards, or looking so far forward he actually predicts the second half of the movie. Don't worry that's not a spoiler, because if you don't spot the shock twist ending then you may too have had a rusty hook up your nasal passage.

Soon Ol' "related to Francis Ford Coppola and that's why he keeps getting all these plumb roles (and this shit one)" Nic's power allows him to split into eighty four versions of himself so he can foresee every possibility of a situation, which seems like a bit of a far step from the "seeing two minutes into the future" thing they started with. Oh and Julianne Moore further destroys her good reputation as the "dependable good actor in uptight official woman" role and there's a bit of a love subplot with Ol' "old" Nic and Jessica Thingy, the one with the big tits, and... I just give up. I don't know what it's about really.

And that's the feeling you get watching this turd. Nobody involved seems to care so why should I? Witness the story career headlong into an abyss of its own making as it continually breaks its own setup whenever the writers get a bit stuck, the really bad CGI (Smallville looks better) or the continuous use of the "oh look he's been killed, oh no wait he just flashed forward to see what'll happen if he drives in front of a (very badly rendered) train" plot device to stand in for any real thrills. Mildly amusing the first time, we don't honestly believe our protagonist has been killed five minutes in so we can afford a little titter, but tedious the thirty fourth time. Like this time is going to be any different just because it's a nuclear holocaust that flits across the screen!

So Next was based on a Dick work. Dick sounds right.

R.I.P. Phil!