A dispiriting primer on the low regard Hollywood has for the intelligence and curiosity of children -- and the time and money of their parents -- G-Force is an aggressively stupid entry in the family-adventure genre from Jerry Bruckheimer.
G-Force represents an inconceivably tragic waste of a brilliant idea. Frankly, if you can't squeeze a decent movie out of talking 3-D superagent guinea pigs, you may as well throw in the towel and consider a career in insurance.
If you know a 7-year-old who's still angry he wasn't allowed to see Transformers, G-Force is sure to make him feel better. But other than him, it's hard to say who this abrasive comedy is meant to charm.
A lot of resources went into making G-Force -- a lot of talent, a lot of money, a lot of marketing -- and it doesn't have much to show for it, not even some half-way imaginative 3-D gimmickry.
The single most terrifying moment is hearing the world will be destroyed in 30 minutes. Therein lies the possibility that the film will drag on for another half hour.
Producer Bruckheimer and...director...Hoyt H. Yeatman Jr. see no stylistic difference between the frenetic derring-do of G-Force and the atmosphere of such Bruckheimer hits as Con Air or The Rock.
Just about the only folks likely to find this humdrum hybrid of Mission: Impossible and The Wind in the Willows worthy for consideration are non-discriminating pip-squeaks happy to watch rodents rappelling walls and scampering along air ducts.