WHAT THE MONSTERS TAUGHT ME: When Your Eons-Old Biological Rival Horns In On Your People-Eating, Better Call Renegade.
THE CARD:
Not Rooking Very Mahvelous; It's DEBORAH Goddamnit!; Tubby the Boozy Sidekick; Dr. Sulu the Love Intelest, The Not-Irish Irish Mentor; the Kool-Aid of Science; Shake Your Rice Fever; and enough angry seafood to feed a Japan of Chris Farleys.
More details here.
THE ANGLE:
Self-righteous scientist Dr. Emma MacNeil (Deborah Gibson) pilots a mini-sub in the Arctic Sea racing against time to catch a glimpse of whales humping, crapping, or some such scientific shit. As she maneuvers the sub through murky and turbulent waters with her plucky fat-ass assistant at her side, we soon discover that she has stolen the sub from something called the “Institute” and immediately we realize her badass take-no-prisoners approach to marine biology. But strange happenings are afoot in the gloomy depths when a glacier suddenly explodes, probably due to pollution, global warming, or the eerie echoes of “Shake Your Love”. The explosion releases a humongous prehistoric shark and an equally enormous octopus from their primordial sleep. The mighty beasts then mysteriously piss off, leaving the bemused Emma to contemplate her sanity and nail polish. Back on land, she is called to investigate a beached whale that was found with giant teeth marks in its side. She pulls one such tooth out of the remains and concludes that it belongs to a Carcharadon megalodon, an ass-kicking shark of the prehistoric seas. Meanwhile, strange “men in black” are following her, speaking in their cufflinks, and sipping from wired Big Gulps. Wisely suspecting a government cover-up, she seeks out her mentor Dr. Sanders (Sean Lawlor), a sloshed professor with a penchant for biophysics and slipping accents. They team-up with Japanese scientist Dr. Shimada (Vic Chao) after Japan is terrorized by attacks on oil rigs and school girls from a tentacled monster. After concerned rubbing of chins, scientific mixing of Easter egg color solutions, and eyewitness drawings by my two-year-old niece, the doctors conclude that the sea is suffering from a bad case of hemorrhoids. That, or a big ass shark and a frickin’ huge octopus. The gang is enlisted by love-hating Agent Allan Baxter (Lorenzo Freakin’ Lamas), probably the first guy in a dance club leisure suit who commands seaman to ever appear in a monster movie, but not necessarily in a Lamas movie. Anyway, Baxter represents the government and vehemently persuades Emma and Sanders to come up with a solution to the problem quick. Cut to monster terrorizing montage. The shark eats a plane and chomps a destroyer. The octopus wriggles and burps. The shark makes a San Francisco treat out of the Golden Gate Bridge. The octopus plays canasta with a manta ray (I’m guessing - I couldn’t see shit!). The scientists mix some more chemicals, Emma gets her sushi rolled by Shimada, and the group comes up with a cockamamie plot to attract the creatures with their own pheromones to incite a hormone-fuelled battle like ladies night at McGilly’s. But in the end, it’s not Lamas’ greasy mug or Debbie’s refrigerator door teeth that save the day. Tragically, Mega Shark and Giant Octopus die of cardiac arrest. Too many fatty Americans.
THE FINISHER:
Asylum, the studio behind Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus, is like the crappy film Santa Claus bringing gifts of joy and migraines to all the good little boy and girl bad movie lovers in a world where X-mas morning is every other Tuesday. Only this Santa shops exclusively at TG&Y, Big Lots, and Ben Franklin, the retail hubs of knock-off merchandise the world over. Check out other Asylum treats reviewed here, here, and here. Speaking of movie loving recipients of cinematic poopy, it is not difficult to conclude that bad movie lovers such as I suffer from a crippling internal need that craves depraved ineptitude to serve the inner will to mock. This debilitating illness is best shared with like sufferers, preferably with sweets, salty snacks and adult beverages. Such was not the case when I watched M.S. vs. G.O. I watched it alone. Like a dumbass. And thus the awfulness could not be shared and my searing barbs of cattiness towards Debbie and Lorenzo went wasted and unheard. Thanks to the internet, the trailer for Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus was an email-forwarded, Twittered, and Facebook-favorited phenom and possibly experienced the most buzz of any Asylum product ever. And the trailer is pretty frickin’ great in its own appalling way, but the end result couldn’t live up to its compacted 60-second sell. And did you really expect it to? The movie seems a more conscious about its incompetence and face-palming stupidity than most Asylum pictures, but that doesn’t save it. Yeah, I know that it’s supposed to be bad, but its will to be bad at every turn is so self-aware that it ruins the fun of mocking it to death. Then again, mocking this movie is like shooting mega sharks in a barrel. But the filmmakers can’t even do self-conscious ineptitude correctly, and the result is like listening to Nicole Ritchie trying to explain cold fusion. Or shark/octopus relations. In the end it’s just a bunch of lame actors trampling over each other’s dialog while squeezing out a terrible script and praying to God the check clears at the end of the day. And while there’s no where near enough mega shark on giant octopus action, there’s plenty of inter-titles to constantly remind you where they are every Goddamn second of the film. Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus may be terrible fun, but you better invite some people over first before sampling this seafood platter of caca cinema.
THE CARD:Not Rooking Very Mahvelous; It's DEBORAH Goddamnit!; Tubby the Boozy Sidekick; Dr. Sulu the Love Intelest, The Not-Irish Irish Mentor; the Kool-Aid of Science; Shake Your Rice Fever; and enough angry seafood to feed a Japan of Chris Farleys.
More details here.
THE ANGLE:
Self-righteous scientist Dr. Emma MacNeil (Deborah Gibson) pilots a mini-sub in the Arctic Sea racing against time to catch a glimpse of whales humping, crapping, or some such scientific shit. As she maneuvers the sub through murky and turbulent waters with her plucky fat-ass assistant at her side, we soon discover that she has stolen the sub from something called the “Institute” and immediately we realize her badass take-no-prisoners approach to marine biology. But strange happenings are afoot in the gloomy depths when a glacier suddenly explodes, probably due to pollution, global warming, or the eerie echoes of “Shake Your Love”. The explosion releases a humongous prehistoric shark and an equally enormous octopus from their primordial sleep. The mighty beasts then mysteriously piss off, leaving the bemused Emma to contemplate her sanity and nail polish. Back on land, she is called to investigate a beached whale that was found with giant teeth marks in its side. She pulls one such tooth out of the remains and concludes that it belongs to a Carcharadon megalodon, an ass-kicking shark of the prehistoric seas. Meanwhile, strange “men in black” are following her, speaking in their cufflinks, and sipping from wired Big Gulps. Wisely suspecting a government cover-up, she seeks out her mentor Dr. Sanders (Sean Lawlor), a sloshed professor with a penchant for biophysics and slipping accents. They team-up with Japanese scientist Dr. Shimada (Vic Chao) after Japan is terrorized by attacks on oil rigs and school girls from a tentacled monster. After concerned rubbing of chins, scientific mixing of Easter egg color solutions, and eyewitness drawings by my two-year-old niece, the doctors conclude that the sea is suffering from a bad case of hemorrhoids. That, or a big ass shark and a frickin’ huge octopus. The gang is enlisted by love-hating Agent Allan Baxter (Lorenzo Freakin’ Lamas), probably the first guy in a dance club leisure suit who commands seaman to ever appear in a monster movie, but not necessarily in a Lamas movie. Anyway, Baxter represents the government and vehemently persuades Emma and Sanders to come up with a solution to the problem quick. Cut to monster terrorizing montage. The shark eats a plane and chomps a destroyer. The octopus wriggles and burps. The shark makes a San Francisco treat out of the Golden Gate Bridge. The octopus plays canasta with a manta ray (I’m guessing - I couldn’t see shit!). The scientists mix some more chemicals, Emma gets her sushi rolled by Shimada, and the group comes up with a cockamamie plot to attract the creatures with their own pheromones to incite a hormone-fuelled battle like ladies night at McGilly’s. But in the end, it’s not Lamas’ greasy mug or Debbie’s refrigerator door teeth that save the day. Tragically, Mega Shark and Giant Octopus die of cardiac arrest. Too many fatty Americans.
THE FINISHER:
Asylum, the studio behind Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus, is like the crappy film Santa Claus bringing gifts of joy and migraines to all the good little boy and girl bad movie lovers in a world where X-mas morning is every other Tuesday. Only this Santa shops exclusively at TG&Y, Big Lots, and Ben Franklin, the retail hubs of knock-off merchandise the world over. Check out other Asylum treats reviewed here, here, and here. Speaking of movie loving recipients of cinematic poopy, it is not difficult to conclude that bad movie lovers such as I suffer from a crippling internal need that craves depraved ineptitude to serve the inner will to mock. This debilitating illness is best shared with like sufferers, preferably with sweets, salty snacks and adult beverages. Such was not the case when I watched M.S. vs. G.O. I watched it alone. Like a dumbass. And thus the awfulness could not be shared and my searing barbs of cattiness towards Debbie and Lorenzo went wasted and unheard. Thanks to the internet, the trailer for Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus was an email-forwarded, Twittered, and Facebook-favorited phenom and possibly experienced the most buzz of any Asylum product ever. And the trailer is pretty frickin’ great in its own appalling way, but the end result couldn’t live up to its compacted 60-second sell. And did you really expect it to? The movie seems a more conscious about its incompetence and face-palming stupidity than most Asylum pictures, but that doesn’t save it. Yeah, I know that it’s supposed to be bad, but its will to be bad at every turn is so self-aware that it ruins the fun of mocking it to death. Then again, mocking this movie is like shooting mega sharks in a barrel. But the filmmakers can’t even do self-conscious ineptitude correctly, and the result is like listening to Nicole Ritchie trying to explain cold fusion. Or shark/octopus relations. In the end it’s just a bunch of lame actors trampling over each other’s dialog while squeezing out a terrible script and praying to God the check clears at the end of the day. And while there’s no where near enough mega shark on giant octopus action, there’s plenty of inter-titles to constantly remind you where they are every Goddamn second of the film. Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus may be terrible fun, but you better invite some people over first before sampling this seafood platter of caca cinema.
1 comment:
Never knew it was Asylum, or that freakin' Lamas was in it, but I missed the Tucson viewing.
If Mothra and the ladies had made a cameo, some real ass-kicking could have taken place.
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