As many of us impatiently wait for the sixth Final Destination film, slated for release next year over a decade since the fifth, here comes yet another limp attempt to recreate that specific, sadistic form of magic. Some curse, some teens, some shock deaths, a formula that’s been trotted out in so-what films like Wish Upon, Countdown and Truth or Dare, shrugs where shocks should be, franchise starters ending after the first round.
Which brings us to Tarot, a film wisely kept from critics until the very last second and one that audiences would be smart to keep themselves from too. It’s not quite as bad as these things can often be but flashes of competence are not enough to distract from a sense of crushing pointlessness, more watery slop served up lukewarm for undemanding Friday night horror fans, who really ought to be demanding so much more.
