Chronicle is a mediocre movie within a dying genre. The creative minds in Hollywood are exploring new depths of suck. Did you see the trailer for [insert nerd-popular intellectual property here]? Chronicle may confuse you into thinking it’s exceptional. In reality, this film will function as the last solar flare, shot across space, marking the death of a genre. The “found footage” film milieu gained notoriety around the time of The Blair Witch Project. A film, I still argue, that is meant for Guantanamo occupants. Since that [I guess] golden age, this film style proceeded to get beaten to death by every director interested in making a horror film on-the-cheap. Some of them worked. Correction: few of them worked. Okay, well, just Paranormal Activity.
Chronicle is one of few found footage-type films that, not only isn’t horror, but actually manages to mangle a great concept. Three high school kids of one-dimensional ilk: the jock, Mr. Popular, and of course, the loner. Hey! That one kid from The Wire is in this movie, that’s cool. The other two guys are related, but awful editing and an excuse to employ a nauseating moving camera, prevented me from caring about much of anything. Actually, and here’s where I put on my serious business hat [it’s red], sincere issues dealing with child abuse and familial terminal illness are immediately presented in the first act of Chronicle. Immediately, these concepts are abandoned. I assume it was sacrificed for one of the two house party scenes that takes place at a lavish locale, in which one of the stars almost receives fellatio, but pukes prior to the act occurring. Sorry, spoilers.
Pringles paid top dollar to have their brand computer generated into this scene. Totally worth it and not a waste of money at all.
Unfortunately director Josh Trank, hates you and thinks that your brain is made out of gummy bears and circus peanuts. There were some likable moments in Chronicle that could have benefited from further development. When the three stars are just playing around, it’s actually kinda believable.
There are a few conceits made when creating a found-footage film. You have to assume the audience isn’t very bright. Chronicle knows that you are too stupid to notice that, though we live in an age where we must record, update and tweet every moment of our lives -- we, apparently, have no need for a battery charger. We also have a fetish for recording people at our front doors and flying through our living room floors. Also, you love awful visual effects, because Chronicle is exploding with CG not fit for a Sci-Fi Channel Sunday film. I kinda feel icky that I just wasted four paragraphs on a movie that isn’t bad-bad, just sterile-bad. I’m infertile because of this film.
Respect Knuckles!
The “Nobody Knows Fail Like The Wonder Twins” Award