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Sorry, Wrong "Number"

"I Am Number Four" is the latest in a long line of young adult sci-fi/fantasy novels to make it to the big screen. Disguised as a human teen named "John Smith," the main character is actually one of nine alien refugees who escaped to Earth after the destruction of their home planet. He and the others are scattered throughout the planet in an effort to keep clear of the Mogadorians - a tattooed, pirahna-faced alien race who destroyed their planet.

For reasons that aren't exactly clear, the "Mogs" are systematically hunting down the teen refugees in order. John, aka "Number Four" (Alex Pettyfer), is next on the hit list. John, like the other aliens, has a guardian to protect and mentor him. John's guardian, Henri (Timothy Olyphant), poses as John's father so they can blend in as they move from town to town. But as John begins to exhibit some strange, new powers, it becomes harder and harder to hide.

Relocating to rural Ohio, John's efforts to keep low profile quickly go awry. He immediately runs afoul of the school QB/bully when he stands up for Sam, the school punching bag (Callan MacAuliffe), drawing the admiration of the bully's comely ex, Sarah (Dianna Agron of "Glee"). With that, plus his powers emerging in awkward new ways, he's not exactly blending in. And the Mogs are zeroing in on his location.

Sound a little familiar? The entire film seems third-rate, from the script down to the actors themselves. The screenplay, written in part by "Smallville" scribes Alfred Gough and Miles Millar (with "Buffy" writer Marti Noxon), could easily have been lifted from that show's reject pile. The dialogue seems cobbled together from soap operas and 80s teen flicks. Should we be surprised that noted plagiarist James Frey is one of the writers going by "Pitticus Lore" - the author of the book?

The actors seem like impersonators of better, more famous actors. Pettyfer is a dead ringer for Ryan Philippe, and though he has mastered the "hard blinking" and "jaw clenching" chapters from Philippe's playbook, he has none of his charisma or intelligence. Agron's Mena Suvari looks and pertly-cocked beret can't detract from the coy mumbling that makes her seem like she's been playing with Mommy's Botox needle. Australian actress Teresa Palmer - as the hell-for-leather "Number Six" - is the Naomi Watts clone that rounds out the wax figure triumvirate. Only Timothy Olyphant and Kevin Durand (as the leather-clad leader of the Mogs) ever approach anything that may be called "interesting."

"I Am Number Four" reads like "Twilight" for the Ed Hardy set: tribal tattoos and popped collars, frosted blondes, hot babes, Ducatis, and plenty of giant slo-mo explosions. It's hardly surprising - especially considering the pyrotechnics and babe quotient - that Michael Bay serves as the film's executive producer. But even his influence seems third-hand. Director DJ Caruso can't really figure out what film he's making. It's a hodgepodge of tired cliches and bland, pretty people set to a generically angsty soundtrack. All I can say is, "Hey Mogs, he's over here!"