'Is it safe to sit here?" The girl always asks that in "Final Destination" movies. The answer, on screen, is "Yes, yes, yes." But we in the audience know it's "No, no, no."
In the movie "The Final Destination," showing in many theaters in 3-D, "here" is a stock car racetrack where the seats are rotting, the cement has cracks and the pit crews are accident-prone idiots.
One of the kids "sees" a crowd-killing accident before it happens and convinces his friends to leave. This is followed by a crowd-killing accident.
It's followed by more chain-reaction disasters that take out the survivors who "should have been killed," one by one.
They called it "death's grand design" in an earlier "Destination" flick. In the latest unoriginal, exhausted sequel, they give it the pedestrian label "the death list." Nine years after the James Wong original, these movies have been reduced to blah killing machines with entrails and blood blasting off the screen into our laps.
It's not frightening in the least, with only a few amusing moments, a pedal-and-forehead-to-the-metal racetrack crash opener, and then you just keep time by counting off who survives the initial slaughter and who awaits "their turn." Eighty minutes and it's over. Until the next "Final Destination."