I don't claim to be an expert at predicting the outcomes of movie plots. Generally speaking, when a writer throws a curveball into their script, it takes me by surprise (I'm pretty dumb, after all). So please believe me when I say that you'll be able to call the twist of Fractured within the first fifteen minutes.
Honestly, it's so obvious and telegraphed that I'm not even sure I should call it a twist. Like, once the inciting incident happens, you know exactly how everything's gonna play out. And then the movie wastes the next hour and a half of your time trying to convince you that you're wrong (to the point where I was actually starting to expect a double bluff to occur), only to eventually relent and admit you were right all along. It's as disappointing as it is infuriating.
Putting the writing aside for a minute, I guess there's some adequately chilly atmosphere here, and Sam Worthington's more or less fine as the lead (though I can never tell if he's attempting an American accent or not). But it's hard to admire either when the movie as a whole is so weak and cliche-ridden.
As someone who's pretty dubious of Netflix originals, this one didn't even come close to swaying me.
Grade: C
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