Alas, Francis Ford Coppola was wrong. The digital camera revolution has not resulted in an explosion of talent gracing our screens. All it has delivered is the never ending glut of amateur material, posturing as cinema, that clog the shelves of video stores worldwide. YOU MOVE YOU DIE is a continuation of this never ending cycle of sub-mediocre, ego- driven and wholly wretched home-movies.<br /><br />Suffering through YOU MOVE YOU DIE is like watching a gang of young schoolboys, inspired by a movie they just saw, playing Goodies and Baddies as they chase each other around the drab back streets of their boring small town. They play-fight and play-act, and do all things their parents would frown upon (like swearing and smoking). The jolly romp is all made up on the spur of the moment and after an hour or so, they're so darn tuckered out from all the tussling and screaming and pointlessness of it all, so they simply...stop. <br /><br />Now imagine a group of age-retarded adult men in their thirties, doing the above. Yet sadder still, is their friend with a video-camera who's followed them around as they playact like little kids- bored during the summer holidays. Then afterwards, they all wearily (but satisfied and with much backslapping) go back home to endlessly watch themselves replayed on telly, over fizzy drinks and chips as they collectively fantasize about hanging out with Tarantino.<br /><br />That pretty much sums up wrist-slitting banality that is YOU MOVE YOU DIE.