Friday, January 27, 2012
"The Grey" is a geek show, a gruesome game of Ten Little Indians with nothing more on its mind (contrary to a number of reviews by critics who must have just filed out of Phil 101) than having wolves pick off Alaskan oil-rig workers one by one like Julie Brown's homecoming queen. To give the appearance of slightly loftier ambitions, they've paid Liam Neeson to lead the expedition, lecturing on lupine behavioral patterns like Clarissa explaining it all.
Fresh off "The A-Team," shlockmeister director Joe Carnahan shows zero respect for the audience or its intelligence. When one of the plane-crash survivors chooses to stop running from the wolves and die beside a tranquil lake, Carnahan can't help ending the scene with the howl of the predators about to swoop in - as if we couldn't tell what was coming. None of the stock characters is fleshed out enough to care about; all we know about even Neeson is that he had a pretty girlfriend.
"The Grey" takes two hours to play out its sick little set-up. It's garbage.