Far be it from us to rely on an old joke as an introduction, but whatever the person is getting for guiding Amanda Seyfried's career as of late, it shouldn't be 10% - it should be life. The poor girl, once thought of as the next Hollywood starlet, has been given over recently to the ripe ridiculousness of Red Riding Hood and the tepid In Time. Instead of the intended A-list, she keep falling further down the direct-to-DVD rabbit hole. Gone is not going to help. As a matter of fact, this ludicrous excuse for a thriller is so bereft of anything remotely resembling intelligence, logic, or entertainment value that if it doesn't kill Ms. Seyfried's future employment possibilities, it's only because she's in possession of a substantial amount of blackmail material.
In this laughable excuse for suspense, our star is Jill, a victim of a serial killer who can't quite convince anyone that she was actually abducted. Her tormentor was never caught and this makes our heroine more than a little nervous. Now, she takes self-defense classes and carries a gun for protection. One night, about a year after her own ordeal, she comes home to the house she shares with her younger sister Molly (Emily Wickersham) only to discover her sibling is missing. Naturally, Jill believes it is the work of her murderous kidnapper, desperate to get revenge for his past incomplete crime. The local Portland police, however, think our lead has a screw loose. Only the brooding Peter Hood (Wes Bentley) believes in her - somewhat. Without any solid support from law enforcement, Jill decides to take matters into her own well armed hands. Of course, this could all just be a figment of her still fertile imagination...
Gone is gunk. It's garbage trying to pass itself off as a stylish, sophisticated horror film. While it is reasonably well acted (Ms. Seyfried, et.al. are not the problem here) and directed with mood and atmosphere (by Brazilian filmmaker Heitor Dhalia, working in English for the first time) it seems to be scripted by the simian rejects from the "old 100 monkeys at 100 typewriters" maxim. While scribe Allison Burnett is well respected in literary circles (his first novel is supposedly very good), his efforts for the cinema have sucked. An overview of his credits - Untraceable, Autumn in New York, Underworld: Awakening - is enough to warrant his own personal Rassie Award. Burnett's work here is no better. Throughout the painful long 90 minute running time, there is not a single moment of authenticity or reasonableness. Everything is either a red herring, or insane.
There is also a lot of wasted potential in Gone. We could buy into a movie where the victim of a crime may be making the whole thing up in her head, the result being a breakdown which results in a parallel crime spree, but that's not necessarily what Burnett and Dhalia are going for. They want to make Jill into both a champion and a challenge, to have her save the day while showing signs of being lost in her own psychological struggle. What we wind up with are some improbable chase scenes, a meandering trip through a darkened wood, and a finale that fails to deliver on a single one of the storyline's many promises. Sure, at it's very best, Gone would be nothing but schlock, but at least it would be entertaining schlock.
All we have now is tedium and tired genre tropes. Someday, Amanda Seyfried will find the film that allows her to live up to her industry mandated potential. Something like Gone argues that she didn't have much to offer in the first place.
Gone is gunk. It's garbage trying to pass itself off as a stylish, sophisticated horror film. While it is reasonably well acted (Ms. Seyfried, et.al. are not the problem here) and directed with mood and atmosphere (by Brazilian filmmaker Heitor Dhalia, working in English for the first time) it seems to be scripted by the simian rejects from the "old 100 monkeys at 100 typewriters" maxim. While scribe Allison Burnett is well respected in literary circles (his first novel is supposedly very good), his efforts for the cinema have sucked. An overview of his credits - Untraceable, Autumn in New York, Underworld: Awakening - is enough to warrant his own personal Rassie Award. Burnett's work here is no better. Throughout the painful long 90 minute running time, there is not a single moment of authenticity or reasonableness. Everything is either a red herring, or insane.
There is also a lot of wasted potential in Gone. We could buy into a movie where the victim of a crime may be making the whole thing up in her head, the result being a breakdown which results in a parallel crime spree, but that's not necessarily what Burnett and Dhalia are going for. They want to make Jill into both a champion and a challenge, to have her save the day while showing signs of being lost in her own psychological struggle. What we wind up with are some improbable chase scenes, a meandering trip through a darkened wood, and a finale that fails to deliver on a single one of the storyline's many promises. Sure, at it's very best, Gone would be nothing but schlock, but at least it would be entertaining schlock.
All we have now is tedium and tired genre tropes. Someday, Amanda Seyfried will find the film that allows her to live up to her industry mandated potential. Something like Gone argues that she didn't have much to offer in the first place.
