Parker?s minimalism does make for a handful of legitimately scary moments. He uses no music, except for an occasional pulse of thudding percussion, and gets a fair amount of mileage out of simple things-that-go-bump-in-the-night suspense (though when the gore comes in the second half, it?s plenty gruesome). But any further craft lavished on this screenplay would be wasted: Less than a half-hour in, you already don?t care which, if any, of these one-dimensional characters survive the onslaught. You might actively root for their collective demise, if you could rouse yourself to care one way or the other. Go gallivanting in Chernobyl and you get what you pay for, nimrods.
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