Saw 3

When we meet ol' Jigsaw (Bell) this time, he's struggling with an inoperable brain tumor and 'reformed' crack whore Amanda (Smith) now does his dirty work - setting up the elaborate games and the likes - while Mr. 'wasn't held enough as a baby' lies in bed being all creepy as his plan unfolds like a fat man's stomach after standing up. This is an appalling film, and the fact that it's so financially successful is quite depressing for genuine fans of the horror genre who pine for the Carpenter and Craven glory days - i.e. when the ratings boards wasn't so lenient, and the director had to actually use some creative ability and talent to muster a coherent plot and an imperatively bleak atmosphere. That's not to say that Saw 3 isn't tense - but it's just wince-y tense. You don't care who's killed; so when one victim after another is disposed of in a pretty damn debauched and revolting manner, you really couldn't give a damn about what's happening - at least until the next insignificant victim comes along. Foolishly thinking that it's smarter than it is, Its spends about a quarter of its running time cleaning up plot holes from the first film through flashbacks - shabby exposition devices at the best of times. There's obviously a whole lot wrong here; everything has a rushed feel, from the script to the heavy-handed direction, that prolongs the inevitable blood and gut-soaked finale. There's even a laughable tacked-on flashback that Jigsaw has, that hints at some utterly pointless form of subtext as to why he's a few calories shy of his goal weight. Saw 3 may be your thing, but it's effectively horror porn that will appeal only to gore lovers who like their skull-drilling and pulsating-brain shots up-close. For a genre that's had so many greats, it really feels like the bar has just been lowered.