If anything, Resident Evil is true to its munch n’ crunch PlayStation origins. Unlike Tomb Raider, Paul W.S. Anderson’s latest video game adaptation doesn’t mess around. Five minutes into the film, the Red Queen computer system has quarantined the Hive (codename for the top-secret, underground Umbrella Corporation) after the T-Virus floats into the air-ventilation system. As psychological torture chamber, the Hive is all about the stimuli-induced regression fantasy (this cornball flash-of-the-mind worked better in Anderson’s underrated Event Horizon). And as torture mechanism, the Red Queen is the awesome female equivalent of 2001’s passive-aggressive Hal. No, she’s not scary, but her toys are cool (she slices and dices better than Emeril) and her yakety-yak brings to mind Fiona Apple.
The Queen is a fierce killer but she has nothing on Milla Jovovich, whose Alice can turn a corner and kick a bloody Doberman like no other. No stranger to comic-book sci-fi and dopey mnemonic despair, Anderson is also a great interior designer, milking the film’s most unconventional chill from a wide-angle shot of bathroom marble. Resident Evil’s schlocky intro is its minimalist highlight, but things get really baggy and tiresome as Alice and company attempt to escape the Hive. Sans moral discourse (Romero this ain’t), Resident Evil may be brain dead but it’s great popcorn entertainment nonetheless. After all, what could possibly be wrong with Milla wearing Kylie Minogue’s clothes in a techno-zombie wonderland?
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