Synopsis:
One of the gates to hell opens inexplicably and it happens to be in Jerusalem while some annoying tourists and their fucking smartglasses are around.
Review:
Fuck lazy-ass bitch directors who shoot films entirely with crap cameras. I'm looking at you, GoPro cheapskates. This also goes for movies like this one filmed from the perspective of smartglasses. If I want badly captured, shaky-ass footage, I can always check out YouTube's cryptozoology or UFO vids. You might think it's clever to display personal bio info about characters in the lower left corner after the glasses do their "facial recognition scan", perhaps you find it to be a convenient plot device if your characters have a map of the world at their disposal, and god forbid the audience doesn't get the "fatal error" message blazing across the bottom of the screen to double overemphasize that some bad shit has just gone down while you're strobing images of crappy stuntmen in makeup that compares poorly to a skipping CD-ROM from the mid '90s glory days of FMV games. If you think any of those things, fuck you. It's semi-cool for about twenty minutes, and then I get the overwhelming urge to sneak into the director's next colonoscopy, shove the smartglasses sideways up their ass, and say, "We're trying a new filming device. Don't worry, this exam won't be any more painful than that one movie you shot about the apocalypse in Jerusalem."
This flick opens with some old filmreels of an event in the '70s in the Old City that ends with a priest pumping a round into a head attached to the winged body of a newly resurrected corpse which is displaying curiously daemonic behaviour. This is the only part not shot from a camera on someone's forehead. Treasure it. In fact, just watch it twenty times over, it's easily the best part.
Forty years later, two dumb-ass American women tourists head to Israel for a relaxing trip (because the threat of constant terrorist attacks is a great reliever of stress, I hear). They meet another dude who says he's American, but his accent obviously says otherwise. It floats between vaguely British/Australian, sort of kind of American, occasionally kiwi, and sometimes a hint of South African. He's obsessed with old civilizations and their mythologies, and also reminds me of every douchebag anthro grad student I've ever met. He begins to spout off about the Nephilim returning to the world of man and is promptly committed to the local loony bin. Predictably, they do fucking return, and as those giant, building-sized humanoid-looking things are tying up all the heavy military hardware, the infantry are dealing with the zillions of dead bodies rising from the dead. They aren't normal Romero zombies, however. These are strong, speedy motherfuckers that can sprout wings and infect you with a scratch. Anyhow, the military quarantines the Old City, leaving the dumb-ass duo, random accent man, their hotelier, his son, plus a couple Israeli soldiers to go spelunking for an escape route.
Verdict:
This movie is flat. You keep waiting for it to get good and it doesn't. This is the Jason Campbell of films. Every single protagonist is a douche, the plot is never explained with more than a cursory throwaway statement or two, and every sequence leaves you with a, "So what," feeling.