Wrath is severely unspecial. Worthington maintains he took the job because he hated himself in Clash and wanted to right his wrongs. He doesn't. Perseus has about as much presence as the elusive titans (plural) when he's not shouting at monsters or randomly snogging Rosamund Pike (equally sparse of character) and the supporting cast seems to be bizzarely made up of a plethora of sarcastic northerners. Granted Worthington's Antipodean tones are hardly accurate, but at least he's performing in his own accent. The mind boggles at the (assumedly) directorial decision to have Bill Nighy's fallen God speak in the manner of a drunk Boltonian and until I specifically learn otherwise, I will fervently maintain that Toby Kebell (nauseating as Agenor, son of Poseiden) improvised the entirety of his dialogue.
The more stellar portion of the cast are wasted and, in the case of Ralph Feinnes' Dark Lord Volde- erm, Hades, almost look like they know they shouldn't be there. Characters die off the cuff and crumble into a laughable pillar of dust while the vague shreds of a plot fizzle around them. The ending is also completely barmy, and never has the term Deus Ex Machina been more literal.
Why is Liam Neeson's Zeus so helpless? Why does Hades change sides more often than Cronus farts fire? Will the inevitable third installment actually feature more than one titan? None of these questions are raised. The 3D looks gratuitously lovely and the digitally rendered environments are occasionally impressive but these positives don't save a poor outing for Worthington and co. However this much is likely; a third Titans film looks as likely as a sudden leap in quality is unlikely.
Bring your own 3D glasses, Wrath of the Titan is definitely not worth the extra 80 pence.
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