Stanley Tucci and Kiernan Shipka acted brilliantly, and Tucci headbutted someone with his perfect forehead, but this is otherwise a weak, watered down version of A Quiet Place with none of the daring.
She waltzed in like she owned the place and didn't hesitate to pose an impossible question. Well, that made my mouth water. Give me an unsolvable mystery and I'll worry it like a bone, and if it won't crack I'll break my dang teeth. Hopefully this case wouldn't leave me with dentures.
Naturally, she was my first lead, but she danced around my interrogation like she had me on a lead. I let her past my guard and then it was all caresses. It was like she didn't care if I actually solved her mystery, like she was here to distract me. But if she'd asked it in the first place...
In a flash I knew. She wasn't here so I could find the answer, she thought I already knew and had come to steal it. Well, the joke's on her, because I hadn't the foggiest. Of course, I didn't say anything with her hands all over me.
She wouldn't be happy. And I wouldn't be surprised if behind her was someone with a nasty bite. If I wanted to save my skin, I had to find the answer they thought I already had.
So who is a good boy?
It was clear what she wanted the moment she walked in. The bottle said it all. She would be trouble, and if I'd seen her coming I'd've pretended no one was home. Too late for that now. She crooked her finger and, sucker I am, I came.
I'd like to say I had some kind of plan, some clever twist that would turn everything around in my favor, but the truth is that I'd always been a pushover for her. Ever since she first skritched me behind the ear, all she had to do was say my name and I'd come running. I could draw a direct line from that first meeting to now, a chain 'round my neck that meant I'd walk willingly where she led, even into a trap.
She led me to a small room, all tile, nice and clinical. Perfect for betrayal. The raised section, clean and white... I'd been here before. I'd thought I was free of it, but fate had brought me back. Fate... and her. Two forces in my life that always have the last word.
I'd survived before, and I'd survive again. Face it: Sometimes you just have to take a bath.
She found him sitting on the edge of the cliff, bare feet dangling over the edge, looking into the wispy clouds below. She sat beside him, her shod feet kicking slowly beside his, glancing back at the rocky trail.
Before she could say anything, he asked tonelessly, "Can you feel it?"
She looked around. "Feel what?"
"The dream is ending. They woke up. Any minute they'll forget us and..." He shrugged. She followed his tired gaze into one of the clouds. Inside, she saw a luxurious restaurant in gold and velvet, watching as the gold tarnished, the cloth dried into tatters, and the lights burned out. The cloud evaporated. "We can't have long," he said.
She watched another cloud evaporate, this one a dancing class for skeletons, and felt the cliff tremble beneath her. The tik-tak-tik of freed pebbles echoed up to her. Toe to heel, she loosened her shoes and kicked them free, watching them fall. When they disappeared into the cloudbank, she pushed to her feet. He looked up at her. "You can't run from it, you know."
"Who's running?" With a smile, she dove. Behind and above her, he gaped as the cliff gave way beneath him.
Despite Reeves’ predictable flat affect, the two leads do a good job of portraying two damaged people grasping for joy in a toxic love affair that ends appropriately abruptly, as does the movie.
This is a love story to the US Marine Corps with a self-sacrificial lieutenant and a tireless staff sergeant so inspiring that a squad will follow him back into action instead of taking an officer-ordered rest… and there are aliens.
With excellent fight choreography, camerawork, and general production values, Extraction suffers only from thorough predictability.