Nepal, May 17 -- If you thought "young adult" sci-fi romance had reached its angsty peak with the Twilight Saga, you're sadly mistaken. In fact, if you were to keep most elements of that franchise intact, merely substituting the brooding, misunderstood vampires with brooding, misunderstood aliens, you would end up with one of Hollywood's newest attempts at reeling in the PG-13 crowd-D. J. Caruso's I Am Number Four. Based on the bestselling book of the same name, the film embeds itself in wholly unoriginal and over-familiar premises, presumably hoping to hitch an easy ride on the back of a lucrative, but ultimately exhausted formula. And although it's been a while since hunky teenage aliens have invaded high-schools-the Roswell series could be credited for having set that template-I Am Number Four offers nothing new or intriguing.
John Smith (Alex Pettyfer), is one of nine alien-children from the planet Lorien, sent to Earth following the decimation of their race by the evil Mogadorians. The chosen nine, each with particular "legacies" or powers, have been in hiding thus far, preparing to avenge the ruin of their home planet. However, with some nifty tracking skills on the part of the "Mogs"- Voldemort-clones in trench-coats and tattoos-the nine have now been located, and are being systematically killed off. With three down, John, Number Four, is next. The logic behind this sequence? I have no idea.
John's life, we are told, is no bed of roses. Not only is he dragged all over the country by an unsmiling guardian (Timothy Olyphant), given a number of uninspired aliases to throw the Mogs off his track-which cuts into his social life-but he must also ensure not to make a spectacle of himself, lest he end up on the Internet. And being so excessively tan, and handy with a football, that isn't easy. In fact, Henri spends the first half of the film doggedly breaking firewalls to keep Number Four off YouTube.
While not what you'd expect from an alien fugitive, John is inexplicably intent on going to school. In Ohio, he falls for the pretty, never-a-hair-out-of-place Sarah Hart, played by Glee cheerleader Dianna Agron. Sarah is an "arty" stock character, an amateur photographer with requisite beret and deeply-personal collage books, a supposed loner who goes to parties only to brood prettily on ledges. Agron's character, in fact, most characters in the film, are more like caricatures than real people, checked off a list of cliques that includes high-school jocks led by Sarah's ex, Mark (Jake Abel), and UFO-obsessed geek Sam Goode (Callan McAuliffe), who befriends John.
John's superpowers soon become apparent, although it is unclear what caused them to manifest at this particular time. He tests his new abilities-a la Peter Parker-parcouring across the woods and swan-diving down a waterfall. These skills come in handy, first against the jocks, and then against the Mogs. In the final showdown, John is helped out by another alien-Number Six, played by a leather-clad stereotypical tough-girl Teresa Palmer-who shows him how to put his powers to their best villain-bashing use, eventually convincing him to follow her to seek others of their kind.
Pettyfer plays the part of alien protagonist with one-dimensional solemnity. Even his voice-overs, meant to provide a linear arch over the many holes in the plot, are similarly lifeless. Chemistry between characters is virtually non-existent; roles are performed to perfunctory ends, never quite delving deep enough to get us to care. Special effects in action sequences-uncannily reminiscent of fight scenes in Buffy-appear cheap and clunky in this day and age. What the film lacks, most glaringly, however, is an engaging mythology. Although the script hints at a larger context, and grasps at a number of random "alien" artifacts as props, detailed exposition has been warded off and little attention paid to providing a firm back-story.
What Number Four ultimately proves to be is undecided, swinging between the sensibilities of a teen drama and that of a sci-fi flick, while staying true to neither. Even attempts to interject a sense of irony by occasionally pointing out its own cliches have minimal effect. Imitating the emotional parameters of other successes in the genre, the film tries to create the illusion of depth, but is crippled by its own superficiality. Now, how does one say No Sequel Please in Lorien?
Published by HT Syndication with permission from EKantipur.com.
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