Redline: Critic Reviews

The movie Redline is all about surfaces, for young men with testosterone to burn.

Everything you'd expect it to be, and yet so much less: less character development, less believability, and most unforgivably, less escapist entertainment.

Although the movie's artistic merits are virtually nonexistent, Sadek does understand his audience, most of whom are unlikely to be acquainted yet with two key aspects of the film: driver's licenses and women.

The whole thing is pretty stupid, but Angus Macfadyen is watchable as the villain.

While the production was clearly expensive, and there is a splash of dazzle in the glossy visuals, the project stands as a monument to waste and extravagance.

The pic oozes the charm and personality of an industrial film.

It's not so much a film as a cheesy garage calendar scantily-clad, over-made up "cheap" women as hood-ornaments.

It's hard to say whether gleaming automobiles or women's bodies are given the more fetishlike treatment in this vanity production.

It's your typical studio vehicle so to speak, about the illegal world of underground racing with hot women, no brains, and a paper thin plot that's basically non-existent or relevant to the events on screen.

Mindless auto racing film a drag for teens and up.

The movie would play almost as a postmodern parody of 1960s drive-in fare if it weren't put forward with such a silly straight face.

This is one of those movies in which virtually no one comes out unscathed.

An idiotic action thriller, vanity project and testosterone-filled guilty pleasure whose sole purpose is to show off a fleet of million-dollar Ferraris and Lamborghinis belonging to fledgling movie mogul Daniel Sadek.

A PG-13 celebration of hot chicks, fast cars, and deplorable behavior is like diet Mountain Dew, near-beer, or an expletive-free version of Straight Outta Compton -- a tame, watered-down version of the real thing.

Yawn.

Well...at least you can look at the cars.

Looks like a music-video without the music--sleek visuals, lots of things moving around the screen, girls posing, and guys dressed like it's the 1980s. Steer clear.

Do yourself a favor and stay home. Griffin's 21-second wrecking-the-Enzo video on YouTube is more exciting (and better directed, and better acted ...) than anything in Redline.

Redline mostly feels like one long stunt intercut with the boring parts of a porn movie.

Redline continues the mind-boggling trend of films that choose to justify their existence by piling on layer after layer of meaningless excess.

The cars in the film are treated with more respect than the women.

Redline isn't exactly a car wreck, mainly because it's far less exciting and you can, in fact, look away.

You could watch it with the sound off and the plot wouldn't make any less sense than it does with it on.

The makers of this self-indulgent autopalooza take a Ferrari engine, Porsche speed, Mercedes horsepower, and a Shelby Mustang chassis and somehow combine them into a Yugo.