Wrath of the Titans

April 5, 2012

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Perhaps the best thing to be said about “Wrath of the Titans” is that if you buy a ticket, odds are you won’t be able to see the full mess on screen. Yet another insufferable bit of post-converted 3-D, this cash-driven sequel to the equally ugly “Clash of the Titans” remake is as dark and dreary as they come, grayed out by after-effects that are supposed to enhance the picture. And yet, it’s somehow for the best, seeing as the content that’s being obscured here is just one giant, cacophonous snooze, and a filter, however dirty, makes the whole ordeal less painful.

Obnoxiously over-confident in every bit of its execution, the film, directed by “Battle: Los Angeles” helmer Jonathan Liebesman, regards its characters like every viewer has been awaiting their returns with baited breath, when really, they’re only here because the first film raked in a global take of about $500 million. “You’re Perseus, right?” one side player asks Sam Worthington’s hero. “Release the Kraken, and all that?” Yes, that’s him, and we’re sure of it because everyone is repeatedly announced in Dan Mazeau and David Leslie Johnson’s rudimentary script. “Andromeda!” “Ares!” “Zeus!” The whole class is present, screaming right along with roars from Underworld bad boy Kronos, but that doesn’t mean any of it warrants your attendance.

There’s a definite place for films that simply offer rollicking adventure, but this series can’t even get that basic pleasure right. It’s one thing to deliver nonstop action, but it’s quite another to serve up a string of barely coherent sequences, edited with the chief concern of maximizing the crunching sounds. Unless you love sandy, computer-graphic epics with every ounce of your impressionable, resilient soul, then “Wrath of the Titans” is a profound waste of time.

And as for Kronos, that monstrously giant villain who dwarfs the Kraken and is made of fire and brimstone, he registers as a gross embodiment of Hollywood greed — a massive, multimillion-dollar effect devised to get butts in seats. Don’t buy it, and by Zeus, don’t buy a ticket.