The majesty of Jaws: The Revenge
Sometimes a film is so terrible it goes through the black hole of awfulness and comes out the other side.
Yes, there's many a fun flick that can be described as 'so bad it's good.'
But very few transcend the intrinsic meaning of our human notions of 'good' or 'bad'. A movie that cannot be put into either box.
Jaws: The Revenge is one of those films.
The original Jaws is, of course, a landmark. A masterpiece of popular cinema. The first summer blockbuster.
A great cast - Shaw, Dreyfus, Schneider - with a young Spielberg on top of his game.
What more could you want?
Well, I'll tell you.
I want a plot so poorly conceived yet played with such deadly earnest yet bad acting that it rivals Airplane! for humour.
I want to experience Mario Van Peebles' glorious Jamaican accent. One of the wonders of the modern cinematic world, it's more Apu than Bob Marley.
I want to hear the shark growl and roar!
I want to see Michael Caine literally on holiday while reading his lines from a Teleprompter after just downing three strawberry daiquiris.
I want to watch as some bloke gets his arm bitten off but then not notice for a couple of minutes.
I want a man to hide from the shark in - what looks like - one of those plastic shipwrecks you find at the bottom of a goldfish bowl.
I want to know they filmed seven different endings yet decided on the one where Ellen Brody spears the fish with a pole sticking out of her boat. And then the bad boy blows up!
And, more than anything, I want to cheer as Caine greets the appearance of a 40ft killer shark at his feet with the immortal line "Oh S*&$!"
Maybe I'll leave the penultimate words to Mr Caine.
When asked about the film, he said: "I have never seen it, but by all accounts it is terrible. However, I have seen the house that it built, and it is terrific."
Well, Michael, you should watch it. You'll have a good time.
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Shameful!