Something is very, very wrong with explorers who spend their time deep underground, spelunking and swimming in ancient caverns submerged in frigid, frightening waters. As they dive into spaces only supermodels could squeeze through, as they put life and limb (and lungs) on the line for a rather fleeting kind of fame, we are supposed to marvel at their moxie -- instead of scoffing at their outright stupidity. As such, the story in Sanctum is set up so that we sit back and imagine ourselves trapped in a rapidly flooding hole in the bowels of the Earth, the endangered characters forced to face their greatest fear as they desperately try to find a way out. Oh, if only what was onscreen could be as exciting as said description.
Our collections of cliches begins with wealthy billionaire -- and part-time thrill seeker -- Carl Hurley (Ioan Gruffudd) arriving at a secluded research facility in the jungles of Papua, New Guinea. He is there to see hotheaded, no-nonsense "caver" Frank McGuire (Richard Roxburgh). Mountain climbing gal pal (Alice Parkinson) in tow, he wants to check on the progress hired he-man has made. After all, success means a spread in National Geographic, and his name on the formerly unknown area.
Of course, he picks an awful time to saunter in. Frank has just lost a trusted companion to a tragic accident, and he blames his belligerent son Josh (Rhys Wakefield) for the screw-up. There is little time to argue, however, as a huge cyclone sweeps in over the region. Flooding the only available airspace, the group grabs genial technician George (Dan Wyllie), a bunch of gear, and heads underwater. There, they hope to find a long rumored route out into the sea. If they don't they all face a forbidding watery grave.
Sanctum is Neil Marshall's The Descent without the albino cannibals running around eating the cast -- though such flesh feasting would be a welcome respite to the ridiculousness on hand. Don't let the "James Cameron" tag fool you. His name is on the credits due to the use of some proprietary 3D camera technology, nothing more...and after seeing the lousy look of this film, you'll wonder if the tech trade-off was worth it. Director Alister Grierson doesn't realize what he has here. Instead of exploring the claustrophobic impossibilities of struggling blindly through an endless world of darkness and water, he lets the lousy mechanical screenplay by John Gavin ruin things. There's so much potential here that when the script settles in for its "dilemma, then death" plot pattern, we grow angry, then irritated, then bored.
Thirty years ago, Irwin Allen's name would be all over this pathetic pastiche of phobias. There's no ingenuity, no novelty in the way the otherwise intriguing concept is presented. Everyone just goes through the motions, maneuvering through sets and CG stalagmites in by-the-numbers necessity. The cast is equally confused, mixing accents and ethnicities in a way that illustrates the movie's baffling intentions. Are we supposed to root for Carl? Frank? The whiny rubber face of spoiled son Josh? Since the actors are absent at least two of the dimensions the ad gimmick suggests, we are stuck with imitation individuals, pawns who elicit no emotional or entertainment response.
If it weren't for the inherent dread of such a suspense-laden situation, Sanctum would have little to warrant attention. Even the false endings, lifted directly from a demented episode of Lost and a slew of '80s slashers, argues for ideas and elements not presented properly in the first place. Caver culture argues that we just don't "get" their need to risk it all. If this film is the explanation, it remains a muddled mystery.
Our collections of cliches begins with wealthy billionaire -- and part-time thrill seeker -- Carl Hurley (Ioan Gruffudd) arriving at a secluded research facility in the jungles of Papua, New Guinea. He is there to see hotheaded, no-nonsense "caver" Frank McGuire (Richard Roxburgh). Mountain climbing gal pal (Alice Parkinson) in tow, he wants to check on the progress hired he-man has made. After all, success means a spread in National Geographic, and his name on the formerly unknown area.
Of course, he picks an awful time to saunter in. Frank has just lost a trusted companion to a tragic accident, and he blames his belligerent son Josh (Rhys Wakefield) for the screw-up. There is little time to argue, however, as a huge cyclone sweeps in over the region. Flooding the only available airspace, the group grabs genial technician George (Dan Wyllie), a bunch of gear, and heads underwater. There, they hope to find a long rumored route out into the sea. If they don't they all face a forbidding watery grave.
Sanctum is Neil Marshall's The Descent without the albino cannibals running around eating the cast -- though such flesh feasting would be a welcome respite to the ridiculousness on hand. Don't let the "James Cameron" tag fool you. His name is on the credits due to the use of some proprietary 3D camera technology, nothing more...and after seeing the lousy look of this film, you'll wonder if the tech trade-off was worth it. Director Alister Grierson doesn't realize what he has here. Instead of exploring the claustrophobic impossibilities of struggling blindly through an endless world of darkness and water, he lets the lousy mechanical screenplay by John Gavin ruin things. There's so much potential here that when the script settles in for its "dilemma, then death" plot pattern, we grow angry, then irritated, then bored.
Thirty years ago, Irwin Allen's name would be all over this pathetic pastiche of phobias. There's no ingenuity, no novelty in the way the otherwise intriguing concept is presented. Everyone just goes through the motions, maneuvering through sets and CG stalagmites in by-the-numbers necessity. The cast is equally confused, mixing accents and ethnicities in a way that illustrates the movie's baffling intentions. Are we supposed to root for Carl? Frank? The whiny rubber face of spoiled son Josh? Since the actors are absent at least two of the dimensions the ad gimmick suggests, we are stuck with imitation individuals, pawns who elicit no emotional or entertainment response.
If it weren't for the inherent dread of such a suspense-laden situation, Sanctum would have little to warrant attention. Even the false endings, lifted directly from a demented episode of Lost and a slew of '80s slashers, argues for ideas and elements not presented properly in the first place. Caver culture argues that we just don't "get" their need to risk it all. If this film is the explanation, it remains a muddled mystery.
