Teresa Palmer

If Shimizu's aging idea of rage-made wraiths were true, caterwauling critics would be crawling all over the multiplex right about now.

This PG-rated Jerry Bruckheimer production is slick as an oiled weasel: larded with fancy special effects, canned romance, corny humor and a general lack of sophistication.

No creative inspiration gets in the way of the beautiful people running and jumping and kissing while things go boom in the forgettable teen sci-fi actioner I Am Number Four.