Many women spend hours taking camera-phone headshots of themselves before lucking upon the one they feel is flattering enough for Facebook. “Evidence” features the type of girls who never take a nasty selfie. They’re gorgeous at any angle, in any lighting. I are often sure of this because the movie’s first act consists of forensics specialists reviewing home video of those gals preening, playacting and, in somber moments, emoting like “America’s Top Model” contestants during confessional segments.
Since the footage comes from cameras found at a grisly desert crime scene, we wait patiently while these cuties undergo their trivial antics because we all know that something terrible goes to happen to them. Supported horrific evidence presented at the scene of the crime within the beginning, this tragedy could involve a serial murderer , a vicious trust , highwaymen, a hippie thrill-kill cult, pyromaniacs, werewolves, a drone strike, vengeful Native American spirits, zombies, Bloods, Crips, sand dragons.
Not that any of those notions are entertained, just that my mind drifted across them while trying to tug through “Evidence’s combination of chaotic phony found footage and whimpering models. One among the lesser tragic consequences of 9/11 has been a generation of viewers and filmmakers who associate authenticity with barely legible footage of individuals running, shrieking and crying bent God. Or the notoriously chilling 2008 video of a true Israeli reception where the revelers are dancing joyously one moment, howling in agony subsequent because the reception hall floor has collapsed. This is often the type of shock horror numerous “realistic” films employ. It works only the actors aren’t busy “acting.”
Most of the time you get hyperactive bores just like the all-star camcorder thriller “Vantage Point.”
Rhoda Mitchell, a stunner herself but also a reasonably talented actress, plays the lead investigator who must stare gravelly at video monitors and fuss at her colleagues and underlings, which include a compulsory disheveled, heavyset tech geek, a 5-o’clock-shadowed guy who seems like “The Mentalist” star Simon Baker and a button-pusher who seems like Will Smith. The boys within the fake found footage are even as photogenic spokesmodels because the girls.
Early on, the cutest boy serenades the cutest girl, an aspiring actress who seems like Angelina Jolie with a touch of Frieda Pinto, while she’s onstage at some event. He eases from the aisle up to the stage, gently strumming his guitar as a beam of spotlight backlights him perfectly and therefore the women within the theater audience swoon. He gets down on one knee for the proposal but she awkwardly says “No.” He slumps away sort of a little boy lost. What tells us that this postcard-glossy moment is “real” is that the incontrovertible fact that the opposite cutie-actress playing her ally is holding the camera with trembling hands. it is the only truly horrifying scene within the movie.