With the flood of teen lit-inspired movies on the scene today, it can be all-too easy to unfairly shuffle them all under the same leaky roof. Often, that short-sells the more gleaming examples of the genre. Not so with Divergent, a ruthlessly narrow little bit of phony escapism that confirms every ugly stereotype. Dim and wooden, it's a thoroughly hand-holding bit of tack that can't seem to get over how breathlessly important it thinks it is.

The generic core storyline has nothing to offer, over-familiar and rich with the scent of manufactured drama. Its cast, thin and transparent as they come, spends most of the bloated runtime reveling in their own majesty at the expense of actual character development. Not that the actors seem capable of exploring any such depth, were they given the material to work with. Shailene Woodley and Theo James, beautiful people without so much as a single spark between them, seem to have been chosen exclusively for their pouty appearances on the promotional materials. Likewise, an awkwardly mismatched sparkle-pop soundtrack stands at odds with the bleak, dystopian tones that the plot stretches for. At least the visual effects are well done, for what that's worth.

It's a real waste of time and effort, an insulting vehicle to cash-in on the latest craze and promote a few of the parent company's tunes while they're at it. I wish I could get my two hours back.