Jumper appears to be a story about a secret war between a group of people who have the ability to teleport and a sect of religious fanatics who hunt them. In fact, this movie is just the five-minute introductory narrative of the sequel, stretched over a mind-numbingly uneventful two hours. Put your mind to the opening of Star Wars, where the back story of the movie rolls away dramatically into the distance. Now, imagine fleshing out the back story of Star Wars into a fully-fledged movie (or three) and deciding to stick Hayden Christensen in the lead role – yep. It’s that bad.
That’s not to say that Jumper is worse than The Phantom Menace – it’s just as soulless and devoid of charm as Christensen himself. This coupled with the fact that the movie was clearly never intended to be anything more than the first part of a trilogy, makes this about as memorable as the second girl you fingered at a party. To be honest, I saw the movie almost a week ago and can only remember the parts that featured in the trailer in any detail. To save the effort of going to the cinema, you may as well watch the trailer and then try wanking off a paraplegic for the next hour and fifty-five minutes to experience both the mildly entertaining bits and the sensation of utter pointlessness you get from sitting through it.
The moment with the bus was easily the high point…of the trailer. In the actual film, that set piece was glossed over with the kind of misplaced confidence displayed by Lindsey Lohan getting her tits out and dressing up like Marilyn Monroe. Speaking of dumb bitches, Summer from the O.C. won the Crunkfish award for least-productive on-screen cum-receptacle of the year, which is either because she’s a terrible actress or the director must have lost his notes that alluded to her character’s personality.
Other reviewers might say something about Samuel L. Jackson and Jamie Bell working hard to bring life to the stale cast – but fuck them. Those two were paid to be in that pile of crap while I was stiffed six quid to watch it. They should either pay me my money back or promise never to appear in a shit movie again – and that goes doubly for you, Jackson.
In conclusion, watching Jumper is preferable to giving a rimjob to an incontinent baboon while riding an aids-sufferer across the Sahara desert in your mum’s wedding dress. But so is watching Terminator 2 for the millionth time – so do that instead.