Wednesday, 1 April 2015


It's not where it went wrong, it's how nobody noticed how wrong it went. Seventh Son boasts the kind of premise that'd only form a successful film in the most wondrous of hands, under the guidance of the most exceptionally talented filmmakers. Alas, they've none of them turned up to work, and you can imagine what that means. Still, you'd expect a lot more even from this assemblage, and most viewers will be quite certain of the kind of quality they ought to expect from actors like Jeff Bridges and Julianne Moore. Respectively, they neatly encapsulate the foremost flaws of Seventh Son, its twin terrors: trying way too hard at entirely the wrong thing, and not trying at all. Would that this cacophonous mess were unwittingly funny, since it appears to bear more potential in that direction than in the way of actually being a decent film; it's not funny, not at all, nor is it thrilling, nor dramatic, nor scary nor even curiously odd - none of the qualities that, again, we ought to expect from this breed of fantasy thriller. The shabby cinematography, the abysmal effects, that risible screenplay... surely someone somewhere must have been able to identify Seventh Son as a total disaster, a work of outrageous idiocy, a massive misfire even considering its modest targets? I took whatever solace I could find in the production design, from Dante Ferretti, and even this master is functioning on a lower level of artistry than one ought to expect. All involved should be sent to movie jail for 12 months, if not for their own bad work then for not noticing the bad work of everybody else.