Species 2 review

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We start with a lyrical vision evoking the ominous majesty of the cosmos; a pop-corn-gagging FX sequence of rickety, egg-carton-and-washing-up-liquid-bottle spaceship puppetry clearly peeled off the Red Dwarf cutting-room floor. Cut to: the surface of Mars - - a hastily cleared piece of waste ground as viewed through a pink filter, with a sentient rope of snot for a monster.

Species 2 is shit. Not so shit it's funny, or so bad it's good, or, y'know, forgivably silly in an escapist, sci-fi kind of way. Just shit. It isn't exciting, scary, fun or entertaining, and, for all of the coy glimpses of Henstridge's tit-channel in the sub-Roger Dean airbrush-strokes of the ads, it's about as sexy as wanking and smoking at the same time. This is truly is as bad as it gets.

A pointless and woefully adolescent stumble into the blind alley of bottom-shelf sci-fi shockers. Film-making for the Beavis %26 Butt-Head demographic. No wonder the horror genre is looking backward if this is the only other way forward.

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