Each of them hears a gravely intoned set of instructions: Follow the marked path. Here’s the premise: Eighty unlucky contestants from around the world-meaning 77 Los Angelenos, two kids from Japan, and one ponytailed guy who seems vaguely Italian-are teleported via iMovie whiteout effect to a concrete purgatory that looks like Whittier, California. The Human Race ably demonstrates this mysterious power: Although it runs-but more often walks, limps, and in the end, crawls-less than 90 minutes with credits, and includes the word race in the title, it still manages to feel like it’s never going to end. Truly, cinema’s ability to compress and expand time itself, as though ’twere nothing more than a deck of cards leaping merrily between the hands of a dextrous shuffler-that’s the medium’s gift to the world. On your mark, get set, go find something else to watch! Because The Human Race, a dreary, smeary, low-low-budget but even lower-inspiration horror flick from British writer-director Paul Hough, is likely to leave viewers rueing the craven, disappointing species into which they were, through no fault of their own, born.
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