You'd saw your own leg off to get out of the cinema...three times

Saw III

We went to see this last week at Carindale. The theatre was full of drunken uni students calling out to each other and swearing loudly and trashily the entire way through. The movie, while containing the usual snappily convoluted plotlines and 180-degree twists, was under-developed, unsupported and over-reliant on gore to provide interest.

For example: in the first 15 minutes we see a female detective investigating Jigsaw's latest serial killing instalment, only to be kidnapped and held as his latest victim (original). She can't get out of the trap in time, and dies. She is never heard of or referred to again. Why is this? What was the point? Use up time? To show that Jigsaw is a big deal and he can even kill cops without getting busted? Why does no one ever replace her on the case? Why even bring the police angle in, if the remaining two hours are devoted to secondary storylines involving Becker's receptionist's self-abuse psychological issues and some guy whose son got mashed in a car accident but who is so wrapped up in himself and his own pseudo-pain that he can't, even for a moment, grasp the concept of moving on? There was no credibility whatsoever in most of the lead characters (not because they didn't try hard, but the script just didn't give them enough support). ESPECIALLY the lead guy, whose son got mashed. He was the most unbelievable character of all. The endless, endless flashbacks (who cares?), the self-indulgent and pratty ultra-modern 360-degree and fast-mo camera work (gets real old, real fast, boys), the meaningless gore in place of meaningful characters...sigh. I want to support those two Aussie boys who made this, but they really do need a slap upside the head.

AND Carindale student tickets are $10.50 (where are you, Balmoral? Save me!) AND the braindead lumps up the back swore and yelled all the way through AND we got trapped in the shopping centre afterwards and had to walk for kilometres through the dark centre at midnight , on my bare feet covered in blisters from my new shoes that I stupidly wore because I thought we were going to a MOVIE and not doing the bloody New York Marathon, and exit through the basement side door and then walk up the carpark fire escape for five stories to reach the car on the top level, but all the fire escape doors were locked (good work if there's a FIRE, say) but we didn't realise that until we had walked all the way up, and we had to go all the way back down to the basement and walk up the car ramps...round and round and round...up and up and up...feet bleeding, grumbling from pointless movie...groan.