In some ancient cultures, its believed that every time youre photographed you lose a little bit of your soul. In modern day celebrity culture, its believed that every time youre photographed you lose a little bit of your chance to get an exclusive deal with Hello magazine. Reason enough, then, for Hollywood A-lister Bo Laramie (Cole Hauser) to embark upon a murderous rampage when those irksome members of the paparazzi set their flashes off in his face one time too many. Isnt it? Well, actually, no its not.
Okay, so admittedly what happens to send our camera-shy protagonist over the edge is a little more serious than just having a zoom lens pointed towards his nethers. Hes out driving with his family one day, when the press pack catch up with him and, in the car chase that ensues, end up causing an almighty crash which leaves son Zach (Blake Bryan) in a coma and wife Abby (Robin Tunney) needing her spleen removed (which probably wasnt originally intended to sound as funny as it actually does). Before you can say cheese (take that as a reference to either the photography theme or the overall quality of the film both are equally appropriate), Bo has set about picking off the snappers involved one by one.
At the helm is hairdresser-turned-director Paul Abascal, but if he cuts barnets like he handles a movie, Id be marching out of his barbers shop without paying. His style is pedestrian and woefully unimaginative, but his handling of the gig is by no means the worst thing about the film. Written by Forrest Smith, this is a story tasteless in the extreme, championing grubby-pawed vigilantism and uncomfortably referencing the death of Princess Diana in a wildly misjudged attempt to get the viewer on-side with the leads predicament. A far more effective idea on that front might have been to hire an actor less perma-starched than Hauser to play the part but even that probably wouldnt have made this morally-vacuous piece of work any less uncomfortable to watch.