A 25-year-old college student (A. J. Cook) witnesses a traffic collision that turns out to be a premonition (and not just the cast’s careers going up in in flames).

After the tonal car crash that was Final Destination, this 2003 sequel is quite the (un)pleasant surprise. It leans full-throttle into the comedy that lurked awkwardly in the original, tuning out the pseudo-philosophical posturing about death while revving up the elaborate kills and self-aware humour. Unlike its muddled predecessor, this film knows what it is: hammy horror for the Jackass generation.

Not only are the death scenes genuinely funny, they solve some of the problems inherent in the premise (which tells you the order in which characters will die) by introducing suspense into the kills themselves. The victims face a series of ridiculous Rube Goldberg sequences where you don’t know which of the hundred health and safety violations will prove fatal until it’s staring them in the spleen.

Admittedly the kills spell diminishing returns, peaking with the opening Mad Max-style pile-up and Incubus-soundtracked kitchen calamity. The rest tend to have an over-reliance on loose plugs and one repeated head-squishing effect that appears to have eaten the bulk of the budget. But we’re not here for the acting or characters, a lineup of stereotypes including a cop and a biker that suggests Death has a personal grudge against the Village People.

If anything the terrible acting adds to the campy tone, keeping the movie light and comical even though it’s gory and cynical. Final Destination 2 may be as mechanical and tactful as a bucking bronco, but it’s also as mindlessly entertaining.