Jurassic Park and Jaws just vomited all over the screen. Emanuelle Carriere, Christine Emes, Celine Filion and Angela Parent star in Jurassic Shark.
Director – Brett Kelly
Screenplay – David A. Lloyd & Trevor Payer
Producer – Anne-Marie Frigon
Following an oil company’s breakthrough during an offshore drilling exploration, a disaster strikes their drill that unwittingly awakes a megalodon.
Which would then be stained by the oil pollution from the disaster, a tragedy of epic proportions powerful enough to spur on photographs, candlelight vigils and shares throughout social media by environmental activists, ice bucket challenges, sad Sarah McLachlan songs and #save/bringbacktheblablabla stunts from Michelle Obama.
After the catastrophe, a team of art thieves, led by the bitchy Barb (Angela Parent), and a group of young, eco-conscious, female college students are trapped by the massive shark on an abandoned island in the middle of a lake.
In the middle… of a lake.
But the troubles don’t end there. Yes, apparently it gets worse than being trapped by a gigantic 50 foot shark in a lake. How much worse? Well, the prestigious painting stolen by the thieves has plummeted to the bottom of the lake after the shark capsizes their getaway rowboat – yes, their getaway rowboat. Now, with the help of the college girls – ’cause nothing changes ones mind from unwilling to willing more than a gun to the head – they hatch a plan to get their prized possession back, but they’ll have to get by the feared megalodon first.
Which you’d think wouldn’t be that hard to spot – you know, considering it’s a 50 foot shark in a small lake.
I swear, this is exactly what we get when Jaws, Jurassic Park, Road Trip, An Inconvenient Truth, Girls Gone Wild, the BP oil spill and The Thomas Crown Affair come together, crank out a circle jerk and then pass off the substance they all blew into one unforgivably vile mess as this film: Jurassic Shark.
Jurassic Shark achieved the next to impossible feat of getting the IMDb community to agree that Kirk Cameron’s Saving Christmas, once the site’s worst rated flick, was a better film (it since has been topped by the German horror/comedy Kartoffelsalat).
Oh, dear God, now you should know what kind of movie you’re in for.
Now, believe me, earning an average score of 1.5/10 on IMDb is not easy, especially when you consider that about half of the site’s users willingly dish out 10s to those really awful Robert Z’Dar movies. But, holy hell, does it earn that score. What do you expect when a film takes cheap to levels not taken before by having the thieves just talk about the heist they committed instead actually showing the heist?
I know. Not exciting enough? Well, here’s how you remedy that problem. What do you if your original plans to make a thrilling heist film don’t pan out, but you don’t wanna go back to the drawing board? Easy, say fuck it and just toss a giant shark into the mix.
Don’t worry, it’ll all sort itself out.
This film is not only bad, it’s deadly. Keep a watchful eye out on the symptoms. They progressively get worse.
STAGE I: Impaired Depth Perception – After the oil company’s facility blows up next to these two sunbathing porn star rejects disguised as actresses – and let it be known that the explosion is close enough and strong enough to knock them both flat on their asses and incinerate them to death – one of those pea-brained valley girls casually blows it off as, “Like relax, we used to – like – get earthquakes all the time in the city.”
And her response when her equally inept but infinitely more cautious friend brings up the explosion? “Whatever, it was – like – probably some bored hillbillies or something.”
I can’t wait for these two bimbos to die.
STAGE II: Memory Loss – Can someone please give either of these two clueless girls a line cue? I swear I just watched them flimsily splash each other with lake water, as if they didn’t know what the hell else to do, for what felt like ten minutes.
STAGE III: Irritability – I’m not one to condone murder; I’m kinda against it… but I spotted at least two exceptions in the bitchy heist leader and the bitchy, high horse riding eco-freak.
“I’m applying for the internship ’cause of the illegal drilling and my farts smell like roses and I’m better than everyone and the stick up my ass hurts, but it’s essential in keeping my smug sense of self-worth alive and well and blabbity bla bla bal!”
We get it.
Yep, another Bechdel test-approved movie, folks!
STAGE IV: Mild Brain Damage – For some reason, everyone has to keep reminding each other of their relationship status with one another. “You’re my brother.” “Hey, you’re my best friend.” “But he’s my brother.” Perhaps it’s symptoms of dementia? Perhaps John Madden wrote the script and figures the only way to clue the viewers in on the characters’ relationships is to just flat out state the obvious, who knows? All I know is that when I have a conversation with my sister Rachel, I typically don’t have to keep telling her she’s my sister, but that’s just me.
Fifty years from now, when one of us is riddled with Alzheimer’s, it’ll be a different story.
STAGE V: Blurred Vision, aka “Beer Goggles Syndrome” – There ain’t enough of it to pretty up the shit CGI you’re seeing onscreen.
STAGE VI: Temporary Blindness – A 50 foot shark, I repeat, A 50 FOOT SHARK, pops out of the water, tears up one of Barb’s crew like an excited dog on a chew toy and the rest of the crew’s response is, at its most frantic, is comatose. Maybe they didn’t see it happen? Monstrously huge sharks plopped in a body of water that might as well be a bathtub do have that uncanny ability to disappear into their surroundings.
STAGE VII: Irreparable Brain Damage – The unarmed girls try to break free by fighting the armed thieves. Not to out-dumbed by these bikini-clad dimwits, the thieves, armed with guns and dynamite, lose to the college girls’ weapon of choice – a rock. Losing to a knife brought to a gunfight is one thing, but a rock brought to a gunfight is a whole new low.
So now it should be no surprise to any of you that the crew’s poor man’s Vin Diesel is too stupid to run away from the lit dynamite he drops and figures he’s got enough time to pick it up before being blown up into bits.
STAGE VIII: Impaired Inhibitions – Big thanks to Hogsback Beer for providing the cast and crew with what was obviously a heavily abused open bar and serving as, I’m assuming, the film’s financier ’cause someone’s gotta foot the film’s bill which totaled out to whatever was the director’s monthly payment for his iPhone being used as the camera. You know, the producers are in shameless, “Who gives a shit?” mode over the blatant use of product placement when Hogsback Brewing Company is literally – no joke – credited as the “product placement”.
STAGE IX: Hallucinatory Visions – Maybe I’m seeing things, but is the megalodon actually getting its Free Willy freak on as it soars over Jill and Tia and kills the villain Barb?
Wait… Did it jump over the whole island? How did it get from Point A out of the water and then Point B back into the water?
Eh – whatever…
Ooooh – here I come!!!!
Lay your head lowly!
Dinner is serrrrved!!!!
Softly then boldly!
Carry me there!
Ooooh – you know I will down to the bottom of the lake where I’ll munch on your tasty body!!!!!!!!
STAGE X: Incoherent Speech – “Well, it’s like they say, ‘Even big ugly things can have offspring.'”, says some random guy to his friend about his smoking hot step-daughter coming from his whale of a wife.
- Who the fuck has said that even once, let alone enough times to earn a “it’s like they say” tag?
- Do you realize the filmmakers actually wasted about five minutes of film having these two random idiots go on about a 6.5-7/10 as if she’s Helen of Troy?
- Well, it’s like they say, “When it rains, it pours.” Well, it’s like they say, “The early bird catches the worm.” Well, it’s like they say, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” Well it’s like they say, “That fugly bitch just squatted out a little angel.”
- The dialogue actually required two screenwriters… I kid you not.
Ineptly plotted, shoddily filmed and poorly acted, Jurassic Shark is the most horrifying of all celluloid nightmares that every aspiring amateur filmmaker fears their own film will turn out to be. It’s a film so horribly executed in every single one of its aspects, it races past 2-Headed Shark Attack and the Sharknado trilogy and beats them by miles as the Citizen Kane of shitty shark movies.
Miles? Make that light years. Oh yeah, it’s that bad.