Chicken Shits The Bay

The Bay is a film.  I watched it.

It’s the kind of film that purports to use some cobbled together footage.  In this case, we have a college student doing a news report on 4th of July activity.  There are also security cameras, phone videos, Skype video calls.

It’s a fairly standard tale with a newish villain.  Not conceptually new, but the specific little beasty is new.  Just as we Interzone familiars are probably meant to smile giddily at hearing the word “Skype,” we are surely supposed to recognize the familiar sea isopod, one of whom had fifteens minutes of fame when a picture of his fat ass made the rounds a few years ago.

The isopod, a sort of nasty looking deep-ocean crustacean is somehow, for the basis of the story, confused and confabulated with ectoparasitic sea lice and the tongue-eating louse, then mixed in a cauldron with nuclear runoff, chicken shit and a burbling concoction of chemical waste dumped into the Chesapeake Bay near a small Maryland seaside town.

As you might expect, people die rather horribly and the government covers it up.  Somehow despite the government’s half-assed efforts, all of the digital information gets leaked.  Luckily for us, one of the survivors, who just happened to be a journalism student, was on hand to report on town festivities and therefore has all the information related to much of the confiscated video.  Apparently there were survivors.  We don’t know how or why they didn’t get eaten by parasites.  That’s not important!  Look at that isopod thingy crawl out of that guy’s stomach!

You’ve seen many a movie about parasites.  This one isn’t much different other than the use of the found video technique of storytelling.  In the end, man wins out over this menace by adding more chemicals to the mix.  Is that a statement?  I doubt it.

I enjoyed it, for the most part, as I would any slightly less than crappy horror film.  I’m just like that.

It has some serious issues, but nothing to distract from the real purpose of the film, which is to creep the viewer out and make you start scratching yourself and wondering if there are things crawling under your skin.

I did note that the TV infoblurb was off target.  Nothing new about that either.

There was no mind fucking unless you count whatever mind fucking occurred that convinced me to pay to watch this movie.

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About I.M. Pangs

digital verbal smog creator improbablefrontiers.com
This entry was posted in Film, Literature and Entertainment and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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