Chant ten thousand geeks, as Wesley Crusher appears on screen. Does he die? Frankly, who cares. With no characterisation, a plot that could be (and probably was) written on the back of a cigarette packet, mediocre actors, a sloppy score, Amateur Hour CGI and fair to middling awful camera work, it's hard to pay attention to anything happening in this B- movie.<br /><br />Guys, here's a hint. When the crew turns up with Hi-8 camcorders, it's time to call your agent and see if there's any commercials going, or small car showrooms that need opened. This film does nobody any favours. It's pretty much welfare for C list jobbing actors and crew. Terry Farrel at least has the grace to look embarrased at doing the same old "lean to the left, spout some technobabble" rubbish she did on Star Trek, but Wesley actually seems to be trying to make something of his role. Unfortunately, all he manages to do is to make it highly irritating. Die, Wesley, die.<br /><br />Low budget doesn't preclude a film from being fun, but this movie sadly tries to hide its budget. So cue "mass evacuation" scenes where five extras run out of a door and are filmed from three angles, sets where the paint on the plywood is barely dry, and muffed lines that are simply accepted rather than reshot (must have been running out of those Hi-8 tapes).<br /><br />It's not even funny bad, it's just desultory and sad. Avoid.