Mysterious blue blobs of light rocket out of the night sky and impact in the streets of LA. Anyone who looks at the light becomes transfixed by it and gets sucked away. Six minutes into the action we’re dragged back in time for a “12 hours earlier” segment to slog through some character introductions. By the time we catch back up with the story, we’re now armed with just enough information about the players to not care what happens to any of them. They run up the stairs, they run down the stairs, they run back up again.
Skyline is a story -word used very loosely since it borrows from everything from Independence Day to Distrcit9 to Cloverfield- about a terrifying alien invasion, brain stealing monsters, and window blinds. They’re our only defense against the flying mechanical squid buzzing around outside.
Outside. Ah, to be outside where something is actually happening. Where Alec Gillis and Tom Woodruff’s CG creatures rampage in the streets. But no. We’re trapped in an apartment with a small cast of characters whose tedious and confused hamster-wheeling tell the story of a screenplay mashed together as filler between wide shots of alien destruction SFX.
Skyline’s muddled characters and stagnant storyline are a stark contrast to this movie’s hype, and are ultimately just a vehicle for some stunning, cutting edge special effects. Wait for it to hit Netflix so you can fast forward through the boring parts (when anyone is talking). It is certainly not worth full price at the box office, especially over the chatter of bored, snickering tween-agers texting one another in the theater.