When I stumbled upon the 2024 action flick "Aftermath," directed by Patrick Lussier and starring Mason Gooding, Dylan Sprouse, Megan Stott, and Dichen Lachman, I braced myself for a thrill ride filled with suspense and explosive action. Instead, what I got was a front-row seat to a demolition derby of filmmaking: a spectacular collision of bad scriptwriting, painful performances, and puzzling plot choices that could run circles around any B-movie cache.
A Plot So Mysterious, Even the Writers Seem Unsure
The plot of "Aftermath" seems to fit snugly into the classic thriller template: hostage crisis on the Tobin Memorial Bridge, a war veteran grappling with PTSD, and malevolent special forces mercenaries poised to strike. Sounds compelling, right? Sadly, the narrative’s potential is squandered like the stale leftovers lurking in everyone's fridge. The film attempts to tackle serious themes like PTSD, but rather than providing depth, it opts for a cameo appearance, serving PTSD merely as a backstory tacked on to add a hint of complexity. I half-expected the film’s take on PTSD to mean "Plot-Driven Scoffed Treatment," given how casually it’s handled.
But where the movie really shines in its dedication to ambiguity. For instance, who exactly are these imprisoned team members that Jimmy is attempting to free by taking hostages? Did they have a falling out over brunch or perhaps a heated Monopoly game? Similarly, the mysterious documents Jimmy demands remain as enigmatic as last Tuesday's leftovers. They could be anything from top-secret government files to Jimmy's grocery list—your guess is as good as the film's intentions.
In the end, the storyline is an exercise in unanswered questions. It's as if the writers threw plot points at the wall to see what would stick and then, unfathomably, decided to walk away. It leaves us not only questioning what was left out of the narrative, but also pondering whether the film's creators themselves were in on the secret—or simply forgot to fill us in.
The Not-so-Special Forces: Comedic Brigade
Speaking of narrative misbehavior, the portrayal of ex-military special forces as inept buffoons rivals a slapstick comedy gone wrong. These so-called "bad guys," whose military expertise seems shockingly overshadowed by a flair for the dramatic, bumble about the scene with all the grace of elephants on ice skates. You can't help but note how the movie tirelessly ticks off every action-movie cliché box in existence, almost as if it was auditioning for an action stereotype hall of fame: yes, including the favorite, "gunfight without collateral damage".
Acting, or an Attempt Thereof
The performances in "Aftermath"—if the plot is the Titanic, then consider Mason Gooding's portrayal of Jimmy as the massive iceberg that we never saw coming. Jimmy, our villainous mastermind, or rather the awkward ringleader of this chaotic circus, delivers a performance so earnestly overwrought that it could make a Shakespearean tragedy look like a comedy by comparison. Gooding's efforts are, shall we say, memorable—a masterclass in the kind of acting that might earn you an "A" for Agony and an "F" for "Feast of Facepalms."
Each time Jimmy strides onto the screen, his overly animated expressions resemble a bad mime act gone wrong, making me wish for the safety and comfort of the nearest "off" button on my remote. His dramatic chest push against his fellow comrades comes off with all the impact of a poorly rehearsed dance move at a high school play. These scenes serve as poignant reminders that physicality in acting can sometimes lead to literal pushovers of hilarity rather than intimidation.
And let's not forget the curious backstory of Jimmy's illness. A villain battling cancer while juggling the responsibilities of medicating and villainy surely had potential; instead, it ends up resembling an awkward subplot stitched hastily into the film. His medication-induced stumbles aim for gravity but achieve new heights in sheer absurdity, tying into the theme that "Aftermath" is where logic goes to die.
Not to be outdone is Dylan Sprouse as Eric. While Jimmy captivates with his bizarre overacting, Eric delivers a portrayal with all the depth of a shallow puddle. He’s the noble war veteran struggling with PTSD—or perhaps it's merely an allergy to coherent character development. Neither actor successfully steers this shipwreck from the rocks, and alas, we're left clinging to driftwood in a sea of uninspired, unmotivated character portrayals.
Dialogue: Unintentional Comedy Club
The dialogues should ideally carry the film's emotional weight, yet here it collapses under an overuse of clichés and laughter-inducing awkwardness. The writing tries hard—a little too hard—to imitate suspense-driven films, but ends up feeling like a script lifted straight from an amateur's first draft. Any scene that attempts to convey depth and urgency only brings to mind echo-filled theaters of unintentional comedy.
Themes of Missed Connections
"Aftermath" desperately reaches for a compelling emotional backbone—warrior struggling due to internal demons, innocent lives at risk—but ends up being about as touching as a lecture on paint drying. For anyone masochistic enough to pursue this thematic catastrophe, perhaps "Die Hard" or "Speed" might serve better as exemplars of what real hostage heartbreak and edge-of-your-seat thrills should look like.
Intended as an adrenaline-pumping action film, it's genre ambitions are undercut by its botched execution. While theoretically aligning with the action genre, "Aftermath" almost flirts with self-parody, blundering into something more closely resembling a comedy of errors.
Concluding this Charlatan of a Film
Ultimately, "Aftermath" ranks among cinematic creations best forgotten – a blueprint for how not to make an action film. It's hard-hitting only in the manner of its letdown, and luminous only in its failure to illuminate anything of cinematic value. Save yourself a painful two hours and avoid this film like you would a snowstorm in Hawaii. Envision it as a public service announcement about the perils of movie-making when ambition outweighs execution. My journey through "Aftermath" felt less like entertainment and more like an assault on my film-watching sensibilities. Not even a room of tap-dancing turkeys could deliver a performance as fowl as this.
