AVClub: Though it’s being marketed as a thriller, 11 Minutes has more in common with the horror genre—specifically, with the Final Destination franchise and its elaborate, Rube Goldberg-style deaths. That makes this Polish import sound far more interesting than it actually is, however. Imagine a gore-free Final Destination entry that kills off a bunch of people in a single climactic set piece lasting two or three minutes (thanks to slo-mo), with the preceding hour-plus devoted entirely to setting that catastrophe in motion. Then imagine that the series of improbable events that dooms everyone isn’t even clever or ghoulish—just a matter of moving random characters around, slooooowly, so that they’re all in the same general area when one thing goes awry. Now further imagine that said characters are so singularly tiresome that one’s reaction to their obliteration is not horror, nor even relief, but merely indifference. That’s what 11 Minutes offers: an extravagantly pointless exercise in protracting the buildup to some meaningless carnage, garnished with metaphysical pretension so cutesy and vague that it feels actively insulting.