The Bone Collector review

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In a world where everyone's seen Scream and Se7en, the question is who exactly will be enthralled by a serial killer movie that possesses neither the sharp humour of the former, nor the terrifying grittiness of the latter. And why should anyone want to watch a film whose construction is so old-school that the killer spends the final reel standing in front of the hero like an Agatha Christie character, reading through expositions you'd never have worked out in a million years? The Bone Collector is a bad episode of Quincy, spruced up with cinematic sequences of helicopters with searchlights, and made into uncomfortable viewing by some needlessly voyeuristic murder scenes.

Guilty of wanting nothing more than to pay their mortgages are the cast, who manage to emote, characterise and interact perfectly well. Denzel Washington proves he literally has more screen-presence in his little finger (the only bit of his character's body that still works) than many more famous actors, and Angelina Jolie puts in a performance which suggests that if she's not mega-star famous by this time next year, then something's gone disastrously wrong.

Although you'll frequently be stuffing your fist in your mouth, it'll be to stifle giggles, not screams. The Bone Collector manages to be silly, unpleasant and boringly predictable despite a strong cast trying to make the most of a sub-standard script.

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