Echoes of the Forgotten

Critic Reviews

In Sergio Leoney's latest foray into science fiction, 'Echoes of the Forgotten,' one can find themselves painfully trudging through the treacle-thick narrative, as thick and foggy as the minds of its archetype-clad cast. Empanada Thompson's hard-boiled detective is as stale as yesterday's toast, failing to add any yeast to the dough of this feature's plot. Orson Wheels-of-Cheese's CEO flaunts his charisma like a peacock with too many feathers, distracting rather than contributing to the tale. And Robert Fryin? His police officer presents an undercurrent of distrust you can smell from a mile off—it's not tension, it's paranoia. 'Yesterday's memories shape tomorrow's nightmares,' the tagline boasts, yet I find myself wishing for amnesia to erase the memory of this hollow cinematic experience. Venturing into a PG rating, the film melodramatically tiptoes around its potential depth—making any self-respecting cynic snort with contempt. The metaphoric shadows that Sergio promises are nothing more than literal dark corners of underexposure, the banality of the metropolis bereft of any real impact. The juxtaposition of humanity's dredged-up memories with alien enigma could rouse intrigue, if only it weren't as engaging as a wet cardboard. All components combine to form a tepid broth, under-seasoned with originality and overcooked with predictable tropes. As forgettable as the 'Echoes' it bemoans, it's ironic that a film can say so much, yet convey so little.