What is the sound of one hand clapping?

If a tree falls over in a forest with nobody around to hear it, does it make any sound?

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

Isn't it a bit cruel to keep trapping Schroedinger's cat under a cardboard box?

What is the point of Sandra Bullock?

An assortment of pertinent physical, philosophical, moral and metaphysical questions there. I am about to grasp perhaps the most pressing of those between the pincers of my razor sharp intellect and focus the white hot pinpoint of my insight upon it. I shall give you a moment to guess which one it is...

The inclusion of Miss Sandra Bullock in any kind of cinematic outing these days is a cast iron guarantee guarantee of insufferable mediocrity. Even Speed, the movie that brought her to the attention of Hollywood's mainstream, gained precisely bo diddly from her inclusion, and since then she's seen fit to somehow forge a mildly respectable career out of always choosing the safe, middle of the road route. I recently heard her involvement in Crash cited as some form of vague credibility, but given my own particular loathing of that over-hyped, overblown, socio-political farrago I'm going to play my joker on that one. Further cementing my theory that the majority of cinema patrons will happily buy into and reward downright mediocrity, I give the court exhibit C: Premonition.

Bullock plays Linda Hanson, a married mother of two young girls whose husband Jim (Julian McMahon) is out of town on business. Waking up one morning to the knock of her local Sheriff, Linda learns that Jim died the previous day in a nasty car accident. Understandably a bit saddened by this, Linda pops off to bed that night only to awaken and find her husband downstairs in the kitchen supping some morning tea. Huh? Stranger still, the next again morning she wakes up and he's dead again, and so on, and on, and on... cue two hours of vacuous emoting. You know the kind; lost for an explanation amongst uncharted wildernesses of the mind and soul every seemingly mysterious clue, be it a waste paper basket or a child's scarred face, is met with a cocked head and a lingering middle-distance stare in an attempt at rendering the tedious intriguing.

I wouldn't mind so much if there were some point to all this, but far from heading toward some fascinating revelation there isn't even so much as a hint of an explanation as to why all this is going on in the first place. With no message or insight to be seen Premonition has to either stand or fall on the strength of it's storytelling, and as I think you've probably gathered from my somewhat fatuous demeanour already there's very little chance of this movie picking up any awards this side of eternity. It's not just Bullock's lacklustre performance that's to blame either, as even the most skilled actress would stand no chance against the dual terrors of an unbelievably directionless script and a completely directionless director in Mennan Yapo.

I could harp on at some length about the overall banality of proceedings, and in particular the glaringly self-contradictory script, but it's frankly not worth the effort. Premonition simply doesn't work, and that's the end of it. If there's owt worse than a movie with a silly premise that culminates in a silly resolution it's movie with a silly premise that has the sheer temerity not to even bother with the second part. Do one.