It was love at first sight: from the moment I first caught a glance of Final Destination across a crowded room, I fell and I fell hard. I was only a little ashamed to admit that these films (which showcase Death's blacker-than-black humor as he employs a Rube Goldberg meets Grand Guignol meets Milton Bradley's Mouse Trap devices to slaughter those who try to cheat him) had become, perhaps, my very favorite modern franchise. Part 3 had left me a little cold, but I hoped Part 4- which promises to be The Final Destination- would rekindle our love affair...after all, it's in 3- uh, excuse me, REAL D, and I loves me some...err, 3D. Real D. Crap flying at my face from the screen...whatevs.
As I'd hoped (and as we all expected), the death sequences in The Final Destination are such a hoot that they're, like, supersonic and you can't even hear said hoots. Blood and chunks fly as Death makes good on his life-claiming promises- as you know by now, no one can beat him. This franchise has never been about character development or plot...the films have always been little more than a showcase for Death's grand design. Unfortunately, the folks behind The Final Destination have finally admitted as much, and the nonexistent effort put into the violence-free sequences makes this entry in the series the weakest of the bunch, Real D mayhem or no. There's still tons fun to be had, for sure, but it's glaringly obvious that sadly, Death is on his last legs.