The phrase “better than Twilight” means different things to different people. To a Twihard it means a shrieking rant soon posted to YouTube. To a film distributor it means start building a new wing on your house. To most filmgoers with taste it is a snotty backhanded compliment.
When I say I Am Number Four is “better than Twilight” I do, I admit, mean it in a mostly snarky way, but as someone who could win the gold medal in disbelief suspension I can’t deny that there is merit to be found in this wholly predictable picture. Hell, the first Twilight isn’t all terrible, either.
Young jet skiing hunk Alex Pettyfer has some rad tattoos on his leg that turn out to be. . . an alarm system from another planet. The dreamy blonde isn’t just another pouty mass of emerging hormones, he’s actually one of a handful of escaped alien beings searching for safety on this pale blue dot known as Earth.
We know the baddies mean business because we witness these ugly humanoid creatures kill another young adult and his guardian in the middle of the jungle somewhere. (I Am Number Foreshadowing.)
As such, Pettyfer and his protector, Timothy Olyphant, must pull up stakes from their coastal abode and hide in Forks, Washington – er, excuse me, Paradise, Ohio. Here they find an abandoned piece of real estate (I Am Number Foreclosure), jack-in their super-detecto computers and commence to hide.
Alex decides he can stay hidden and still go to high school (dude wants to learn, yo) and he proves this by wearing a hoodie. It’s almost as if he disappears before your eyes.
Within one day he’s gotten the attention of the school bully, his artsy ex-gf and Sal Mineo if he were really into The X-Files. The gal, played by Glee’s Dianna Agron, puts pics of Pettyfer online (I Am Number Foursquare) causing much discussion between Olyphant (who holds tight to a glowy silver case for some reason) and Pettyfer who just wants to be free, man.
But you can’t be free when bad guys are chasing you and your palms control magnetic fields and glow into spheres of illumination. (I Am Number 40-Watt).
In time, there’s a big chase, Teresa Palmer shows up in leather pants and even the scrappy li’l dog turns out to be a giant beast with crazy-ass powers. (I Am Number Four-Legged Friend.)
All of this is (mostly) delightful and agreeably shot by competent adventure director D.J. Caruso. The problem (okay, the main problem) is a complete disinterest in the “rules” of this film.
I challenge anyone who has not read the book or studied the Wikipedia page to tell me the names of the alien races in this film. Or why the baddies are chasing them here on Earth. Or what kind of powers they have. I’m perfectly willing to accept Teresa Palmer is “Number Six” instead of “Number Five,” because Six is sexier than Five – but it bugs the hell out of me that her powers are different from the others for no explained reason.
If I were thirteen years old, I would really dig I Am Number Four. It’s a great flick for that age – about to enter that other planet that is high school. It is also the type of film that you watch again when you grow older and say “man, I really dug this as a kid – they really pulled one over on me.”
