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Ah, Turbulence 3: Heavy Metal. A film so magnificently, obliviously ridiculous that it could only exist in the pre-9/11 era, where the greatest threat to air travel wasn’t terrorism, but satanic heavy metal concerts broadcast live from a 747. Yes, that’s the plot. And no, it does not get any smarter from there.
Let’s start with the hero we never asked for: Slade Craven (yes, that’s his real name), a Marilyn Manson knockoff who looks like Hot Topic threw up on a scarecrow. This man struts onto the plane in full goth-rock regalia, sneering at everyone like he just walked out of a badly lit music video, but give him 30 minutes and he transforms from a moody poser into an airborne action hero, karate-kicking terrorists and saving the day with all the grace of a drunk dad at a Slipknot concert. Watching him go from “edgy Rockstar” to “Die Hard protagonist” is like watching Ozzy Osbourne suddenly pilot a space shuttle. It makes no sense, and that’s why it’s beautiful.