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- Dark Angel
(Reviewed October 4, 2000, by James Dawson)
- This was a made-for-TV movie, so technically it does not belong on this page. But it was co-created and co-written by king of the world SF director supreme James Cameron, it
was
hyped as if it might actually be worthwhile, and I just wasted two hours watching the stupid thing. So what the hell.
The "Dark Angel" premiere was boring, ludicrous, badly acted, cheap and just plain dumb. Absolutely the only thing it had going for it was barely legal bombshell Jessica Alba's looks. The girl's thespian
abilities are nonexistent, her monotone narration could put a speed freak to sleep, and you won't believe for one second that she has any strength, fighting ability or natural agility. But good God, is she
hot. Those lips, those eyes, those enticingly slender hips, that remarkably compact butt, that heavenly chest. It doesn't matter that every time she opens her pretty mouth she reminds you of those terrible
actresses on really awful soap operas, the ones who try their damnedest to emote but just can't cut it. It also doesn't matter that when Jessica goes into simpering-pout mode (which happens about every two
minutes) you don't know whether to vomit, roll your eyes or unzip. Whatever "it" is, Jessica's got it.
Which was why, about halfway through this insomnia aid, I started wondering exactly how long it would take the producers to put her in something slinky. Then, bingo, she finds herself in a situation
where
she impersonates a hooker in a slit-sided red dress (which should have been way too big for her, considering she took it from a woman a foot taller and considerably more voluptuous, but why quibble?).
Okay, I would have preferred to see her in a pair of microdot-size pasties and a millimeter-wide thong, but let's not be greedy. There's always next time.
Or at least, there would be a next time, if I had any intention of ever tuning into this cheesy "Relic-Hunter" quality snoozefest again. Proving that even a drooling pig like me has his limits, however, I think
I'll
be finding better things to do with my Tuesday nights. Like anything other than watching this pandering, brain-dead show.
Back Row Grade: D (escaping an F simply because I happen to have testosterone and can't resist a pretty...well, you know)
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