Review Category: Movie

MOVIE REVIEW: HOUSEBOUND / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: GERARD JOHNSTONE / SCREENPLAY: GERARD JOHNSTONE / STARRING: MORGANA O’REILLY, RIMA TE WIATA, GLEN-PAUL WARU / RELEASE DATE: TBC

When one thinks of New Zealand’s contribution to horror cinema, the mind immediately turns to those brief but halcyon days when young Pete Jackson reigned in blood. Abdicating from the throne of gore, he stayed in Wellington, made his best film to date, Heavenly Creatures (1995), and got into bed with Hollywood. There have been other horror movies and directors, of course, but it is very slim pickings and nothing to compare to Jacko’s splatstick offerings. It leaves that director looking distinctly like a miracle child and a genuine one-off.

While caution must be heeded – for we live in times where hyperbole is cheap and garlands of critical praise can potentially do more harm than good to a film – Housebound is arguably the very best horror movie produced in the country since Braindead in 1992. Director and writer Gerard Johnstone’s deft handling of a traditional haunted house tale is anchored by an unlikely figure, one that rarely occupies movies of this ilk, anyway – a stroppy teenage petty crim, who is less than impressed with all things that go bump in the night.

Imagine a classic ghost story interrupted by a character parachuted in from a Ken Loach or 1990s Mike Leigh drama. Kylie Bucknell (a fabulous performance by Morgana O’Reilly) dresses like a Lisbeth Salander fangirl, swears like a sailor, can barely tolerate her mum and stepdad and hates authority figures with a passion. Placed under house arrest and electronically tagged after her latest escapade – attempting to rob an ATM – she is forced to stay put for eight months. The creepy old house the mum lives in is believed to be haunted, something Kylie scoffs at, repeatedly. That is, until she’s slowly drawn into a decades-old murder mystery.

Housebound, as with all the best horror-comedies, finds a perfect balance between the light and the dark. It’s a surprisingly difficult thing to do. Many have tried and many have failed. Like Buddy Giovinazzo’s criminally unreleased A Night of Nightmares and Ti West’s The Innkeepers, Johnstone’s film offers characters to give a damn about and a marvellous cast to fill the roles.

Kylie might be a hard nut to crack, but as the story progresses, she finds purpose away from her dosser lifestyle and there is the prospect of a thawing in her relationship with the mother. Freaky, thrilling and with a natural humour and ear for dialogue that really could have been written to accommodate a British social realist drama, where bickering, foul language and insults are batted back and forth, Housebound is a cult classic in the making.

Expected Rating: 7 out of 10

Actual Rating:

MOVIE REVIEW: LATE PHASES / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: ADRIÁN GARCÍA BOGLIANO / SCREENPLAY: ERIC STOLZE / STARRING: NICK DAMICI, ETHAN EMBRY, LANCE GUEST / RELEASE DATE: TBC

In Adrián García Bogliano’s lupine thriller, Late Phases, blind ex-military man Ambrose (Damici) relocates to Crescent Bay, a gated retirement community that has been experiencing a series of mysterious savage deaths. These are attributed to wild animals from the nearby forest and the cops think it’s no biggie, but Ambrose learns differently on his first night, when the full moon rises and the killing starts, and he’s confronted with a werewolf menace.

Clearly not having had its fill of the old dear next door, the beast crashes into Ambrose’s place. In the melée, Shadow, his beloved guide dog is mortally wounded. Ambrose is no schmuck. He might lack a good pair of peepers but his other senses are as sharp as a Bowie knife. The need for revenge is consuming and he sets out to take the walking carpet down to Chinatown, while announcing himself to his neighbours, churchgoers and the local fuzz as the new bad boy on the block.

Nick Damici – an actor who could be the love child of Charles Bronson and Paul Newman – the brilliant Tom Noonan and Cheap Thrill’s Ethan Embry lead the cast. The film is not a geriactioner take on the werewolf movie, but it does hark back to the days of old monster flicks, ones where one iconic figure faced off against another. The modern interpretation, however, is ‘misanthrope versus lycanthrope’. Damici is excellent as the grouchy old sod with a chip on his shoulder. Ambrose isn’t well liked in Crescent Bay. A gruff demeanour and tough-talking Noo Yawk accent make him sound sarcastic and mildly threatening at all times.

Unfortunately, Damici’s performance is deserving of a more satisfying movie. The initial whodunit plot – who among these oldies is the killer? – is jettisoned midway through (unsurprisingly, perhaps, as you’d have be a complete dope not to recognise the killer when he is introduced during an early scene). It’s a shame, though, as a great deal of initial tension has nowhere to go. All you’re left with is a territorial pissing contest between two alpha dogs.

Eric Stolze, who scripted Steven Miller’s enjoyable retro monster movie, Under the Bed, at least has penned compelling characters. Ambrose is a dude at the end of the line. Sitting around waiting to kick the bucket holds no appeal and the encounter with the werewolf presents an opportunity for the old SOB to go down fighting. Semper Fi!

Expected Rating: 6 out of 10

Actual Rating:

 

 

MOVIE REVIEW: ZOMBEAVERS / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR: JORDAN RUBIN / SCREENPLAY: JORDAN RUBIN, AL KAPLAN, JON KAPLAN / STARRING: CHAD ANDERSON, LEXI ATKINS, BRENT BRISCOE / RELEASE DATE: TBC

Ha-ha – Zombeavers. Best. Title. Ever. Did you watch the trailer? Best. Trailer. Ever. Beavers and zombies! Can you imagine it? Zombeavers! Best. Idea. Ever.

As far back as the 1960s, writers such as Adou Kyrou noted the sublime qualities found in cinematic works deemed technically inept and unsophisticated. Today’s mockbusters and other very low-budget monster movies, such as the one currently under consideration, count on a similarly charitable reception. Looking like a mass outbreak of crippling hipster irony, these goofy movies are lapped up by audiences with expectations fried by weed and/or copious brewskis. Mostly college kids, then.

Zombeavers – you’d never have guessed it – started its journey to the big screen as a title dreamed up one afternoon. A screenplay was bashed out and the production light turned green. It seems quite incredible such a flimsy idea can produce so much creative excitement and buzz. Was the title repeated over and over like a mantra, incantation or prayer?

Three gal pals head out for a weekend of chillaxing in the countryside. A road accident pollutes a local stream and beaver dam. The beloved water rodents get their living dead on and proceed to terrorise the girls and their bozo boyfriends, who turn up after dark wanting to get laid and party.

Even if Jordan Rubin’s modest aim was to turn in a comedy about bad monster movies, he still ended up with a bad monster movie. The stupid characters and puerile humour further exacerbate an already paper-thin scenario. Yes, Zombeavers is rubbish from start to finish and the joke, ultimately, is on the audience. Laugh at the title all you want, there is only so much mileage to be gleaned from the concept, trailer, poster and endless jokes about beavers and a lady’s holiest of holies.

Why be so hard on a horror comedy made for stoners and the late night crowd? Because it fosters anti-creativity. Really, it does. The message is this: turn in any old crap, get a wacky title and you’ll get a laugh and earn a tidy profit. These movies are not made for posterity and will be swallowed up by the abyss of time. They’re total junk. If you’re in the mood for a laugh, watch Joe Dante’s Piranha or even Alexandre Aja’s 2010 remake. Go home, Zombeavers, you’re not funny.

Expected Rating: 4 out of 10

Actual Rating:

With its purple-coloured title card and font seeming to invoke the spirit of The Exorcist, director Adam Wingard’s latest psycho-thriller, The Guest, is like William Friedkin’s masterpiece in that it is also a film about a demonic presence in the home. The monstrous force here, however, comes not in the shape of an ancient deity occupying a young girl, but a polite, handsome but very intimidating ex-soldier.

David (Stevens) returns from fighting overseas with the aim of tracking down his deceased best friend’s family and offering a few comforting words about their boy’s final moments. He immediately ingratiates himself into the household: the grieving mother needs a son substitute; the younger brother needs a protector from school bullies; the father needs a drinking buddy, and the daughter is captivated by the sheer mystery of the hunky stranger.

But much as in Hitchock’s Shadow of a Doubt and the more recent Stoker, Anna (Monroe) sees through the southern gent persona and grows increasingly suspicious of the dude, even if she thinks he’s hotter than the sun.

Without an original bone its body, The Guest lifts from many movies, but does so with tongue-in-cheek brio. For example, that David is a psychotic fiend is less a twist in the tale and more an inside joke shared between director and his audience. This set-up, therefore, allows for plenty of visual humour and for Stevens to turn in a performance relying as much on physicality as dialogue. David isn’t really much of a talker, anyway. The vibe is a bit like First Blood meets Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers.

Wingard’s best film to date remains A Horrible Way to Die, but with You’re Next and The Guest, he has shown he can deliver the goods to a mainstream audience. He and screenwriter Simon Barrett are on the verge of hitting the big time.

MOVIE REVIEW: THE ROVER / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: DAVID MICHÔD / SCREENPLAY: DAVID MICHÔD / STARRING: GUY PEARCE, ROBERT PATTINSON, SCOTT MCNAIRY, GILLIAN JONES / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

David Michôd follows up his acclaimed, visceral 2010 debut Animal Kingdom with this stylish, bleak tale of obsession, hopelessness and brutal violence in a desolate and dusty Australia a decade after an unspecified disaster known as ‘the collapse’.

Guy Pearce is Eric, a virtually monosyllabic loner galvanised into action when a trio of on-the-run lawbreakers – we’re never told what crime they’ve actually committed – steal his car after crashing their own vehicle. Eric salvages their truck and sets off in hot pursuit and he vows to recover his car even before a stand-off ends with him beaten unconscious. Back at the crime scene, Rey (Pattinson), brother of the leader of the gang, is injured and bleeding. Eric and Rey fall in together and, with Rey patched up by a handy doctor, the pair join forces to track down Rey’s brother and his gang – and they both have very different axes to grind.

The Rover is almost shamelessly a film of style over content. Michôd’s near-future is a world of dusty desperation, a society clinging on to civilisation and yet slowly running down. We never find out if ‘the collapse‘ is a worldwide catastrophe or merely an Antipodean apocalypse but it scarcely matters as it’s really just window-dressing, a barely-referenced but handy background detail. The story is driven by Eric’s relentless, sullen determination to get back what’s rightfully his; he’s very much a man who’s been pushed to the edge and is now plunging over it. The appropriation of his car is the last straw and he’ll let nothing and no one stand in his way as he and Rey cross the inhospitable Australian landscape in pursuit of his property.

Michôd’s script is lean and sparse and what’s left unspoken is often of more significance than what is said. Pearce genuinely chills as the impenetrable Eric and Robert Pattinson is a revelation as the twitchy, drawling, troubled Rey. Evocative cinematography and Antony Partos’ compellingly throbbing soundtrack help establish the tone and scale of The Rover but it’s the film’s aching sense of weariness and quiet dread which papers over the cracks when the already unhurried story slows to a crawl.

A fascinating and engrossing character study punctuated by sudden, blunt violence and yet with a tendency to drag its heels, The Rover comes off the rails in its very last scene, a real ‘Surely not?’ moment as the reason Eric’s obsessed with recovering his car is revealed. It has laugh-out-loud potential and it will almost certainly dog your lasting memories of The Rover – a title given an entirely unintended double-meaning by its plain silly resolution.

Expected Rating: 6 out of 10

Actual Rating:

 

MOVIE REVIEW: THE EXPENDABLES 3 / CERT: 12A / DIRECTOR: PATRICK HUGHES / SCREENPLAY: CREIGHTON ROTHENBERGER, KATRIN BENEDIKT, SYLVESTER STALLONE / STARRING: SYLVESTER STALLONE, MEL GIBSON, JASON STATHAM, KELLAN LUTZ, RONDA ROUSEY / RELEASED: OUT NOW

Sly Stallone’s Expendables franchise returns for another outing, but this time there’s some new blood thrown into the mix. After rescuing Snipes’ Doc during the opening sequence, it doesn’t take long before presumed-dead arms dealer Conrad Stonebanks (Gibson), one of the founders of the Expendables team, turns up and takes aim for his former brothers. With their behinds handed to them, Stallone’s Barney Ross decides that his team are now on the wane, that they’re past it, and that he can’t put their lives in jeopardy any further. From there, Ross, seeking the assistance of Bonaparte (Grammer), decides to bring in a team of fresh faces to help him take revenge on Stonebanks and to bring him down for good.

The Expendables 3 is exactly what you would expect it to be. There’s lots of explosions, lots of weaponry, lots of familiar action heroes, lots of cheesy dialogue, and a whole host of machismo seeping through the screen. When it was announced that this threequel was to be a 12A, many were concerned. Fear not, for the film still manages to have a tough edge to it, although some of the more gory kills of the last two movies are obviously held back here and a lot of the violence is shot with quick-cuts or off-camera actions. Still, the movie doesn’t suffer for this and the action is as amped up as you would hope.

In terms of the new faces brought in, all do a surprisingly good job at injecting the team (and the franchise) with a new life and freshness. In particular, Kellan Lutz gives a cock-sure performance that impresses, UFC Champ Ronda Rousey makes for a mightily-impressive female badass, whilst Glen Powell’s charismatic geek Thorn steals every scene he’s in. As for the older new faces, Antonio Banderas’ eccentric Galgo devours scenery in the way that Jean-Claude Van Damme did in The Expendables 2, although Banderas is one of the good guys here, and it makes you realise that there’s surely more for the former Mariachi than just residing on minty chewing gum ads these days. In terms of the bad guy of the piece, Gibson similarly devours all in front of him with an intense, erratic villain who is genuinely creepy at times, none more-so than when he shares a great mid-movie back-and-forth with Stallone and his team of young pups.

This is an actioner that has a lot more going on that just bullets, brawn and blowing things up. If we’re honest, some of the action scenes go on a little too long and become a tad samey, but there’s enough heart and chemistry in the old and new characters to make the film enjoyable on some other impressive levels.

Expected Rating: 5 out of 10

Actual Rating:

SHARE YOUR COMMENTS BELOW OR ON TWITTER @STARBURST_MAG

FROM AROUND THE WEB:

MOVIE REVIEW: INTO THE STORM / CERT: 12A / DIRECTOR: STEVEN QUALE / SCREENPLAY: JOHN SWETNAM / STARRING: RICHARD ARMITAGE, SARAH WAYNE CALLIES, MATT WALSH, ALYCIA DEBNAM-CAREY / RELEASE DATE: AUGUST 20TH

Inevitably audiences will go into the storm for one reason only: to be, quite literally, blown away by awesome special effects. And they certainly are awesome; even in an age when CGI can conjure up just about anything our imaginations might desire, this is raw, primal stuff, preying shamelessly on our fear of the uncontrollable, savage power of nature itself. Tornadoes and firenadoes whirl across the American Midwest demolishing buildings, sending cars and trucks hurtling into the sky and, in perhaps the most spectacular sequence of all, laying waste to an entire airfield, huge aircraft spinning aloft, out of control, in a macabre metallic sky dance. It’ll take your breath away.

The rest of Into the Storm might leave you feeling a bit less winded though. The film, breezily directed by Final Destination 5’s Steven Quale, superficially appears to be trying to update the old ‘disaster movie’ template of the 1970s – think The Poseidon Adventure, Earthquake, The Towering Inferno, Meteor – but the end result is more SyFy ‘Movie of the Week’ than late summer big screen blockbuster. There are two basic problems which leave Into the Storm windswept: the script has more clichés than a big box marked ‘full of clichés’ and no one seems quite sure whether (or even weather) they should be making a ‘found footage’ movie or not. The core of the film concerns the tireless determination of tornado aficionado Pete (Walsh) as he tries to make the definitive tornado documentary but everyone else is busily filming everything too, from high school kids working on their ‘time capsule’ projects to a couple of stoned redneck adrenalin junkies rushing about waving around their iPhones and Flip cameras. Throw in a bit of occasional CCTV footage and it seems that the film is trying to cover all bases in its desperation to appear homespun and authentic. But it’s a device which quickly becomes tedious and silly and inevitably, when there’s no handy on-screen camera about, the film has no choice but to just tell its story and get on with the action.

It’s a relief that the visuals are so immersive because you really won’t give a flying fig about the central characters and their off-the-shelf emotional turmoil. Richard Armitage’s vice-principal (and widower) Gary doesn’t get on with his two teenage sons but he really steps up to the plate when one of them gets stuck in the cellar of a demolished building. Storm-chaser Allison (Walking Dead’s Sarah Wayne Callies) is pining for the five-year-old daughter she hasn’t seen for months because she’s too busy chasing storms. Pfft, who cares? It’s paper-thin stuff and it barely holds our interest as we wait for the next truck to fly through the air.

Into the Storm is a fantastically old-fashioned Twister for the 21st century (but considerably less boring), and almost commendably predictable, the very definition of ‘does what it says on the tin’. It’ll dazzle you, it’ll amuse you (there’s some good-natured humour here and there) and, in the end – because a big wind is still just a big wind and no matter how much chaos it causes it can get a bit samey – it’ll probably make you feel that it’s all been a bit of a storm in a teacup. More gust-see than must-see.

Expected Rating: 7 out of 10

Actual Rating:

MOVIE REVIEW: LUCY / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: LUC BESSON / SCREENPLAY: LUC BESSON / STARRING: SCARLETT JOHANSSON, MORGAN FREEMAN / RELEASE DATE: AUGUST 22ND

Scarlett Johansson is sitting happily on top of the world right now. Thanks to her stunning performances as Black Widow in three Marvel Studios movies, she can land almost any role she wants. Unfortunately, her latest film, Lucy, falls far short of the quality standards she usually upholds and ranks as one of the most underwhelming movies of the year. Not only does the movie bore at every turn, it is populated by characters and events we really don’t care about. Director and screenwriter Luc Besson takes a fun idea and dulls the sharpness of the material, bludgeoning viewers with his own muddled vision and lack of clear direction instead of providing a cognitively stimulating moviegoing experience.

After her new boyfriend tricks her into delivering a suitcase with unknown content to a vicious Korean crime lord, Lucy finds herself running out of time. When things naturally go sour, she discovers that she is carrying a powerful synthetic drug in her lower abdomen. As the drug begins to enter her system, Lucy is able to access more and more of her cerebral capacity, giving her astounding abilities that pose more questions than answers about the power of the human brain.

Johansson delivers a passable performance as the titular character, struggling to make it memorable. Lucy herself is just too dull. She goes from crying for the film’s first twenty minutes to spending the rest of the movie staring blankly into space, an emotional range that encourages indifference towards her and pretty much eliminates any investment we may have had in the protagonist. As usual, Morgan Freeman essentially plays Morgan Freeman: an expert, specialist, or consultant in a certain field who spends the movie saying cool things in a cool voice. He plays this part well, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. Morgan Freeman is one of the only Hollywood actors who is consistently typecast as himself, and it’s disappointing that Besson expresses no desire to help this incredible performer expand his horizons. The film’s supporting cast does little to nothing to hold up its leads, showing an alarming lack of interest in a movie that tries so hard to be something different.

The film’s biggest (and only) selling point is its intriguing concept. A drug that helps the user (or carrier) access ALL of their brain capacity? That’s a seriously cool idea, but Besson tackles it with a clumsiness that becomes apparent very quickly. It’s all just uninteresting, scientific jargon that makes so many vain attempts to wow an audience that will likely come away indifferent and underwhelmed.

As it turns out, the movie’s strongest aspect is its handling of Lucy’s deterioration from the drug. There’s an admittedly terrific scene in an airplane bathroom where Lucy begins to shed her human appearance and disintegrate, losing the symmetry in her face in the process and almost disappearing completely before putting herself back together. It’s the most captivating scene in the film, but enjoy it while it lasts, for directly following comes even more tedium. 

As far as thrillers go, Lucy could have been great. Instead, it’s a classic example of an amazing concept that suffers from poor execution and an almost criminal lack of inspiration or emotional resonance of any kind. Unless you’re a diehard Johansson fan, it might be a good idea to skip this one.

Expected Rating: 6 out of 10

Actual Rating:

SHARE YOUR COMMENTS BELOW OR ON TWITTER @STARBURST_MAG

FROM AROUND THE WEB:

MOVIE REVIEW: BLACKWOOD / CERT:15 / DIRECTOR: ADAM WIMPENNY / SCREENPLAY: J.S. HILL / STARRING: ED STOPPARD, SOPHIA MYLES, RUSSELL TOVEY, ISAAC ANDREWS, PAUL KAYE, GREG WISE / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

There’s something fantastically reassuring about settling down to watch a good old-fashioned British haunted house horror film. Half of the fun is counting off the clichés as they roll by: big, creaky ramshackle house in the country, things going bump in the night, mysterious locals-with-secrets, inexplicable paranormal phenomena. Blackwood serves them all up shamelessly so the audience feels right at home and on familiar terror territory. Then it goes and flips everything upside down and spins off into another direction entirely, becoming something we never really saw coming because it wasn’t what we expected.

Blackwood is a handsome, well-made low budget British genre piece from first-time director Adam Wimpenny. He and his screenwriter J.S. Hill have worked hard to create something that fits into a genre we think we know before wrong-footing us – and they would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for a hugely unlikeable protagonist and a last-reel tumble into predictable mad-stalker-in-the-house mode. Bah, etc.

It probably wasn’t the best idea in the world for troubled historian Ben (Stoppard) to take up an academic post which involves him relocating with his family (reunited after a brief separation) to a tumbledown, sprawling country house right next to the middle of nowhere. Ben’s psyche is fragile after a nervous breakdown and it’s not long before he’s hearing strange noises and seeing visions, none of which make any sense. Meanwhile, creepy ex-gamekeeper war veteran Joe (Tovey) and beardy priest Patrick (Kaye) are prowling around adding to the generally sinister neighbourhood vibe. Convinced his new home is haunted and becoming increasingly paranoid, Ben turns amateur detective to try to find out the truth about some of the house’s previous inhabitants.

Unfortunately, the tightly-wound narrative starts to unravel, then ties itself up in knots again in its haste to properly explain it’s twist – and, in fairness, it’s a decent twist – and sadly Ben’s psychological collapse just leads the movie into a dreary runaround climax which betrays the story and its generally well-defined characters. The film suffers almost fatally from the fact that Ben is so horribly unsympathetic from the off: he’s dour, grumpy, uncomfortable in his own skin and actually quite unpleasant company. It’s hard to imagine quite what his wife Rachel (the delightful Sophia Myles who, in a fairer world, would be as big a star as Kate Winslet) sees in him; if it wasn’t for their son Tom (Andrews) – Ben has little time for him either – she’d surely be off like a rocket, but preferably not with Ben’s sleazy predatory chum Dominic (Wise).

Blackwood is a nice try, a promising debut from Wimpenny, a film with some good ideas and a genuine will to break the haunted house movie mould. It’s not always as successful as it wants to be but it’s an interesting and engaging effort which doesn’t disgrace itself or its genre.

Expected Rating: 4 out of 10

Starburst Rating:

MOVIE REVIEW: SHARKNADO 2 – THE SECOND ONE / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: ANTHONY C. FERRANTE / SCREENPLAY: THUNDER LEVIN / STARRING: IAN ZIERING, TARA REID, VIVICA A. FOX, MARK MCGRATH, KARI WUHRER

Yes, there’s another one. After last year’s Sharknado sent social media networks into meltdown, it was decided that a sequel was a good idea. I personally want to start off this review by blaming you, every single one of you who Tweeted about this or mentioned it on Facebook, for this abomination of a movie. The first movie, we get it; we can take it as a one-off and for what it was intended to be – enjoyable trash. This second one, though, it really is all kinds of bad.

The plot, or what is classed as the plot, sees extreme weather, as in sharks-in-tornadoes extreme, hit New York, where the first movie’s Fin (Ziering) and April (Reid) are visiting Fin’s sister Ellen (Wuhrer – whose lips look stapled to her face) and family. Given that the film opens with Tara Reid hanging out of an aeroplane, shooting a handgun at flying sharks, you know you’re in for a bumpy ride. Seemingly running through a checklist of New York’s classic sights, including those giant alligators in the sewers, the film beats you round the head with redone moments from the first movie and a bunch of ridiculous yet somehow predictable happenings.

In terms of performances, whereas Ian Ziering fared quite well in the first movie, here it seems that everybody on the cast has been brought down to Tara Reid’s level, and that’s a level that nobody wants to be at. The fact that Sugar Ray frontman Mark McGrath puts in the best performance of the film says it all. Oh, and his character, the husband of Fin’s sister, is “cleverly” called Martin Brody, meaning there’s a Martin and Ellen Brody reference that comes across as a desperate act aimed at salvaging any chance of favourable glances from long-time shark film aficionados.

Badly scripted, badly acted, with horrible SFX work, and then that ridiculous title, there really is nothing good that we can say about the film apart from the fact that some New Yorkers may enjoy the locale and spirit of the film in terms of how much it rams New York down its audience’s throat. Even then, it may be a push to get any enjoyment out of Sharknado 2.

Even as fans of bad movies, shark movies, and bad shark movies, Starburst can give zero love to this atrocity. But that doesn’t matter, for Sharknado 3 has already been greenlit. In a subgenre that seems filled with movies trying to outdo each other in terms of how bad they can be, you have to ask yourself when enough really is enough. For us, the moment that Tara Reid is shooting sharks out of the sky whilst hanging out of a plane, yeah, that’s when the “so-bad-it’s-good” concept jumped the shark.