The Sharknado Experience…

Ferrante, Anthony C., “Sharknado”, The Asylum Productions/Universal/Sony Pictures, 2013.

Ferrante, Anthony C., “Sharknado 2: The Second One”, The Asylum Productions/Universal/Sony Pictures, 2014.

Ferrante, Anthony C., “Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No!”, The Asylum Productions/Universal/Sony Pictures, 2015.

Ferrante, Anthony C., “Sharknado: The Fourth Awakens”, The Asylum Productions/Universal/Sony Pictures, 2016.

To kick off, I’d like to apologise for going dark during the Winter Olympics. It’s not that I’m a fan, but every time an event like this happens, visits to this blog go through the roof, beginning in Russia (and, weirdly, Italy this time) and then, as the Russkie deluge tapers off, they get overtaken by the Yanks until – after the event finishes – business returns to normal. Despite appearances, a lot of work goes into this site, and frankly, I’d rather be reaching out to fellow travellers as opposed to a bunch of mindless, Internet-trawling web-spiders looking for a bunch of pre-programmed buzzwords. It might look good as far as my stats are concerned but it makes me wonder who I’m addressing out there in the wilderness, apart from people looking for sex in Republican China, students wanting to pirate my essay on Oliver Onions, or those planning a trip to Binger, Oklahoma. Yes, those three entries generate the most hits here people…

While all of this non-human attention was coming down, I decided to put my feet up and give myself a break. During this self-imposed sabbatical, I discovered this four-pack of meteorologically-affected marine horror and I thought it would be a good way to get back into things afterwards, as well as continuing my review of all things ‘cinematically shark-y’. Let me say right up front: I am not the target market for this material and, consequently, I may have judged it a little harshly. That being said, even the worst cinematic releases have something to offer the students of horror narrative, so let’s unpack!

To begin, it has to be pointed out that these films have been made incredibly cheaply. This is not a bad thing – restrictions to budget often force creative types to work around limitations and make something special. Sadly, Mr. Ferrante and Co. have not been so inspired and have resorted to a toolbox of standard gimmickry which has only served to let them and their project down. Foremost amongst these techniques is the clunky use of stock footage, a thing that was a hallmark of many films made in the 30s and later. This, for those unaware of how it works, is the judicious insertion of royalty-free film material in order to pad-out the film’s leaner moments, or to introduce fantastic elements which would be too expensive to A) go on location to film, or B) fake with special effects. It worked in the first “King Kong” film; it works less well here in the first “Sharknado” movie. Let me be clear: I don’t consider the use of stock footage to be a bad thing, not at all; if you’re going to do it though, don’t use the same piece of footage over and over again. After awhile, you’re going to have to give that lemon shark with its two remora buddies an acting credit…

Another technique well-and-truly overused in these movies is the close-up with off-screen sound effect, coupled with a camera jiggle and blood/water/evidence of high winds tossed in from out of frame. Usually, this signals that a shark has leapt out of nowhere and killed someone next to the actor in close-up, or that a piece of the environment nearby has blown up/fallen over. It’s also used to imply that Ian Ziering knows how to ride a surfboard (apparently, his first name is pronounced, rather pretentiously, “EYE-an”; for this reason, I will henceforth spell his name “I-in” in order to mock him mercilessly). This trick also has its limits: used too often, the audience begins to wonder if there’s actually anything at all to see here as most of the action takes place wherever the camera isn’t pointed. By movie four, when they pull this stunt merely to get Cheryl Tiegs through doorways, or into storm cellars, the audience members are rolling their eyes and masticating their popcorn with a sense of outrage.

I’ve said before, during these shark-film examinations, that I’m sure that there must some kind of ‘stock CGI programming’ out there which can be purchased on the cheap and used in various filmic capacities; sharks being simply wriggly torpedoes with a chomp-y end, they would surely be easy to create and mass-produce. Well, these movies are full of these virtual suckers, thrown in whenever the story requires a quick addition of teeth. These creations are often simply overlain upon actors performing some kind of ridiculous mime, with the solipsism of camera angles and water/smoke/fog/blood there to cover any lack of seamlessness. No-one making movies is spared the questionable results of such manipulation – remember the scene in “Deep Blue Sea” where Samuel L. Jackson gets taken out? – but the technique escalates to egregious levels here.

In short, the effects in these films are less than “special”, and arguably, this is what lends them some charm and is what has created a huge fan-base for the franchise. However, there are films out there which have done so much more with so much less (remember the HPLHS’s “Call of Cthulhu”?), and it makes you wonder if the guys making these movies just had a “she’ll be right” attitude to the whole film-making process. Let’s now turn to the scripting.

These flicks are all homage (or a pastiche) of 80s action hero movies, which – again – given the recent nostalgia-trip being pushed for that decade, probably explains these films’ popularity. This type of run down memory lane isn’t necessarily a bad thing and no movie production house – from Marvel Studios to this cheese-y company – is entirely able to fight clear of it. The unifying lynch-pin to the exercise would seem to be David Hasselhoff: he’s in “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2” and he shows up here as well in “Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No!” as our hero Fin’s father. He’s also in the online Youtube short feature “Kung Fury!” which is arguably better than either of these two vehicles in terms of what it sets out to achieve. However, his inclusion in the “Sharknado” franchise signals a sudden bankruptcy of ideas and its inevitable demise (the moment when it - *ahem* - “jumps the shark”, if you will).

Of course, penning a paean to the 80s action genre means necessarily that the writers partake of a slew of Stallonenegger tropes that are often funny, but occasionally wince-worthy. Fin is able to fly a jet aeroplane in the later films because his son took flying lessons, a slim rationale of the kind that proliferated throughout video-nasty fare of the decade of excess. He also has an extensive working knowledge of space-flight by virtue of the fact that his absentee dad (Hasselhoff) has a career flying space shuttles. This stuff will break your brain if you wrestle too long with it. As well as this kind of slipshod writing, the movies necessarily run the Hollywood Morality play-book, which leads to a slew of inevitable demises and dismissals. Slap the girl on her butt? You die. Leer down the front of her dress? You die. Make bitchy comments about how your BFF from your school days hasn’t aged as well as she might? You die. Claim that your unrequited love of the hero is the cause of your unfulfilled life but let him know that the door to those possibilities is still open? You…well you get the picture!

In the first two movies, there is a witty sense of appropriation from various sources, paying homage to fan favourite vehicles of the genre. “Sharknado 2: The Second One” begins with a faithful replaying of William Shatner’s memorable turn as a jittery aeroplane passenger from “The Twilight Zone” intercut with elements of “Snakes on a Plane”, before riffing off “Die Hard” for the rest of its run time. After this, the writers had obviously done their dash, and couldn’t quite rise to this level of creativity once more. The remainder of the series is simply a run of clunky cameos held together with some tenuous plot.

I’ve had friends whooping for joy after just reading the cast list from these films – Tara Reid, Bo Derek, Vivica A. Fox, Kari Wuhrer, Frankie Muniz, Cheryl Tiegs, Gary Busey – but really? If these 80s (and later) actors were your favourites, seeing them here is only going to disappoint. Most of them are struggling to act without the benefit of their Zimmer frames and, in the case of Cheryl Tiegs (as stated above), her obvious frailty is more confronting than entertaining. If you like your memories intact, you’d probably best avoid this whole series.

As an aside to all this, there are cameos throughout which involve celebrities I’ve never even heard of (what the hell is a Carrot Top?), and the sly, knowing presentation of their moments onscreen are increasingly irritating and alienating. By movie four, it seems as though the creators have become obsessively focussed upon shoe-horning every cut-rate celebrity they can think of into the film: from Wil Wheaton to Lou Ferrigno, the screen is so overpopulated that you’d be forgiven for forgetting who the lead actors are.

Speaking of which: I-in Ziering (of “Beverly Hills 90210” fame) is an inspired choice for the lead role of Fin Shepherd, ex-surfing star and now a magnet for flying sharks; but even he seems a little put out by the number of unemployed celebrities who show up to hog his limelight. With each movie, more secret, or resurrected, members of his over-extended family appear out of the woodwork and it’s clear by the end that even he’s trying his best to keep track of who’s who. Add to which, whatever chemistry there is supposed to between him and his on-screen, divorced-now-pregnant-and-soon-to-be-re-married cyborg-wife Tara Reid, is completely absent: as far as I can tell, these two were only acting in order to take a breather from the on-going “my trailer is bigger than yours” bitchiness. By movie four they’re both essentially ‘phoning it in.

By the time the pre-title sequence for “Sharknado: The Fourth Awakens” starts to run (with all the attendant references to the “Star Wars” franchise you’d expect), the writers and producers have completely dropped the ball. Initially in the series, the threat was a sharknado – that is a whirling column of air which is filled with sharks; before the end of this, the last instalment, we’ll see “bouldernadoes”, “oilnadoes”, “firenadoes”, “lightningnadoes” and radioactive sharknadoes (yes, they had some quippy name for these also, but I had tuned out completely by this stage). In all cases, the answer to the threat was to make a large explosion that would snuff out the meteorological aspects of the phenomenon leaving only (only!) a rain of sharks (or boulders, or oil, or fire, or lightning, or radioactive fish) to be dealt with. The sharks learn to fly, exist out of water, get studded with rocky armour-plates, learn to navigate outer space and glow green with lethal radiation, but none of these modifications are ever remotely explained. Along with the physical limitations of fluid dynamics, the writers are not about to let a little real-world biology get in the way of their story.

In the final analysis, this is a film to watch with your brain in neutral, preferably with a few drinking buddies over for a mindless evening of dumb entertainment. You should probably eschew (unlike me!) watching them all in one big whack, and instead dip judiciously. Start off with the first film; creep your way into the second offering, but then leave it that – as the bean counters are wont to say, there are ever-diminishing returns to be gained from your continued investment in the exploits of I-in and Co.

I’ve rated each film individually above but overall, I’m giving one-and-a-half Sharktacled Horrors to the whole franchise.

Postscript: I've just been watching the third season of "Scorpion" (a guilty pleasure) and discovered an episode entitled "Sharknerdo". It's the usual socially-inept science-geekery that we've come to expect, but if you want to see every shark-movie trope I've been examining over the last little while, it's all in this one episode, from bobbing heads, to buoy escapes, to cheap CGI shark moments. Looks like I'm not the only one doing the research!

Review: "Sleepy Hollow" - Season 3

Wiseman, Len (Dir.) et.al., “Sleepy Hollow – Season 3”, Twentieth Century Fox, 2016.

The slow demise of this TV show has eventuated – after Season 4, there will be no more shenanigans in the ‘Hollow (of a cockily-proposed seven, sure-fire seasons) and, in the final analysis, these guys have no-one to blame except themselves.

The first season of “Sleepy Hollow” had chutzpah and a budget and very little else. With just these elements onboard, they forecast a silly, but entertainingly scary ride to come. By Season 2, they dropped all pretence of being witty or funny, and the entertainment factor went into a sudden nose-dive. Here, in Season 3, the budget has been slashed, the writing apparently outsourced to the junior staff and the will to live (or, at least, to act) strangled within all the performers contracted. What you’re seeing here, folks, is a death rattle. The shark, as they say, has well-and-truly jumped.

It’s really a shame, too. Initially, this series had a lot going for it – a handsome cast, a hefty budget and some interesting notions. However, they traded all of their advantages for a lazy complacence that has destroyed their credibility and alienated their audience. I’ve mentioned before how the writers assume that their viewers are au fait with other supernatural TV shows and don’t bother to explain or ground their own material as a result: “it’s like a wendigo, right? Y’know, like in X-Files? So yeah, like that.” Add to this that they short-cut required knowledge in any situation by putting the umbrella notion of an Oxford education circa 1770 over it, and suspension of disbelief goes right out the window. As a series of examples here are some instances:

The first steps towards deciphering Sumerian Cuneiform were made by Georg Friedrich Gotefend in 1802, published in 1815, but were generally ignored by the academic world. It wasn’t until 1857 that the language was considered definitively understood. Ichabod Crane readily translates a stone tablet written in this script which he rescues from a crypt beneath his (somehow, unoccupied, un-redeveloped, and un-demolished) ancestral home in – Scotland? (What: were they trying to channel “Outlander”?)

The earliest known reference to gunpowder dates to the work of Wei Boyang in 142 AD during the Eastern Han Dynasty of China. Jenny confidently attributes the discovery of gunpowder to scientists in the Tang Dynasty (618 AD – 907 AD) at one point. I would at least have expected Ichabod – as a Brit - to object to this notion on the basis that Francis Bacon is also often credited with the discovery.

Jesuit missionaries were active in China from the late 1500s. They published Christian theological materials in Chinese between 1593 and 1607. Louis XIV appointed a Chinese immigrant – Arcadio Huang - to catalogue France’s collection of Chinese texts and artefacts and, with Etienne Fourmont, he produced a Chinese grammar in 1742. The first European Sinology institute was established at Naples in 1732. Most other learning centres in Europe did not embark on any real study of China until after 1860, being more interested in the study of Assyria and Egypt (due to Biblical connexions) and, in the case of England, India. And yet Crane, who arguably wasn’t even in Europe during these events, can read Chinese. The Romanisation of the Chinese language – the Wade-Giles System – was published in 1892. So again, how can Crane read this stuff?

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was written in the 5^th Century BC and translated first into French in 1772, and again in 1782, by Jean Joseph Marie Amiot a Jesuit priest. A partial translation into English was published by Everard Ferguson Calthrop in 1905 as The Book of War; this was completed by Lionel Giles in 1910. And yet, Crane quotes Sun Tzu at length over games of chess with Abbie, a book which wasn’t even in common parlance in Europe during his lifetime, let alone the United States.

Starting as a paper in 1922 entitled “Old British Trackways”, Alfred Watkins published The Old Straight Track in 1925, outlining his theory about the concept of ley-lines, which he invented. This, however, doesn’t stop Crane spotting ley-lines all over the countryside.

The “Ynglinga Saga” is the first part of a legendary saga entitled Heimskringla, a history text originally written in Old Norse by the Icelandic poet and historian Snorri Sturluson about 1225. It was first translated into English and published in 1844 by Samuel Laing. It outlines the history of the earliest Norse leaders, tentatively connecting them to the Norse gods. It’s not the grimoire that this show’s writers claim it is; it’s not a grimoire at all.

Spirit cabinets – or manifestation cabinets - were designed by fraudulent spirit mediums to fool séance members. The medium would invite an audience member to tie their hands and then draw the curtains over the medium inside the box. Despite being tied, musical instruments inside the box would play, “ghostly” hands would emerge from behind the curtain and so on. Of course it was all stage magic of a low order and yet our cast make use of one in actual, serious, magical endeavours. Perhaps this is an in-joke on the writers’ part, evidence that they know that what they’re shovelling is pure hokum? Naaah…

And finally, the giant-killer: Sleepy Hollow was founded in the Nineteenth Century as “North Tarrytown” a village in the orbit of Mount Pleasant in Westchester County, New York. Located between Mount Pleasant and Tarrytown proper, the village was re-named “Sleepy Hollow” in 1996. Rather than being the haunt of decapitated Hessians, it is better known as the birthplace of Mythbuster, Adam Savage.

I could go on. All of this information can be discerned by a quick stroll through Wikipedia via a Google search, but did anyone connected to this show even bother? Of course not. And here is where they made their fatal error: they can’t be bothered, but their audience can, and by relegating the intelligence of their viewers, they’ve killed their cash cow. Writers be warned: judge your audience at your own peril.

But the blame for the show’s demise cannot be laid entirely at Ichabod Crane’s door. As before, with Abbie’s career, the show’s writers use this as another egregious umbrella to cover a multitude of sins. First – it only takes nine months at Quantico to become a Federal Agent? Seriously? If this was the case, why aren’t all the ISIS sleeper cells putting their representatives through the routine in order to tool them up? Why doesn’t everyone in the US take the course as, I don’t know, some kind of military service? And afterwards, when you’ve graduated, you get to be posted wherever the Hell you want? I’m certain that this isn’t the case: schoolteachers don’t have this luxury; I’m pretty sure Government law-keepers follow suit.

As in previous seasons, Abbie’s blanket “career” allows her to do all kinds of investigate-y stuff, but there’s never any blow-back from when she’s derelict in her duty. She ignores cases, procedures – even her superiors – every time it interferes with her (lacklustre) ghost-busting activities. At one point she even quits, but the Bureau keeps her job open for her to come back to if she wants. Seriously? With all of the cadets coming through Quantico after their nine-month internship, you’d think job vacancies would be filled in a heartbeat. As before, the writers never let the exigencies of the real world interfere with their weekly monster hunt.

And speaking of which: in past seasons, there were some actually scary opponents to face. Now, with the budget being so obviously trimmed, the villains are all definitely B-grade, even recycled from previous seasons, and the wow-factor has diminished accordingly. This season’s main nemesis, Pandora – she of the Box - is obviously where the money went and even then the writers fail to capitalise on all of the funky set-dressing by giving her a focused rationale. By the mid-point of Season 3, she seems mostly bored and regretful of ever coming to the ‘Hollow. That’s okay though, because Abbie also loses the plot and appears to have much better (unspecified) things to do elsewhere.

In the first season, Crane exhibited bursts of outrage about the state of the country which he fought to create. These were, by and large, the best thing about the show. Season 2 toned them down almost into pastiche, and in Season 3, they’re entirely absent. Given that these moments were the best thing about the show, I’m gobsmacked that they got relegated. Rather than being a fish out of water, Crane is simply an oddity, and not a very good one at that. I’ve said before that you need to leave your degree in American History at the door before watching this show; by this stage, the savaging of American history is the least repellent thing about it. I’m prepared to believe that Ben Franklin’s glass armonica was a device for controlling resurrected corpses, or that Paul Revere built caskets to contain god-summoning widgets, or that Betsy Ross was an arse-kicking chop-socky wunderkind, but only if the show’s designers build a vaguely-credible rationale around these concepts. Instead we get this.

Did I mention that there’s a crossover episode to the “Bones” franchise? If there’s one truism in TV-land, it’s that you can’t prop up two dying televisual commodities by marrying them together.

It’s over, folks. After Season 4, there is no more – the money has spoken. There are only two words to sum up this wasted effort: Sloppy. Hollow.