This post was really meant for the 30^th of March but copious blogging procrastination and fiery passions for other stimulating topics delayed its maiden voyage.

Nonetheless, over Sping Break, a good friend and ridiculous individual, Sean, and I embarked on a cinematic adventure known as “Hammerhead: Half Man, Half Shark, Total Terror.” After raiding King Soopers (it’s a freaking supermarket silly Californians) for FunFetti Frosting, Chocolate Chip Teddy Grahams, and an economy size jug of Sunny Delight we destroyed our health feeding ourselves these glorious munchies and nestled in for 2 hours and 15 minutes of the named previewed Blockbuster DVD. It was easily the worst movie I have ever seen. Ever.

Honestly, did I expect anything different? Nope, not one bit. Apart from the cruddy CGI of the man-shark-beast-swimming-thing and chubby office man turned mother fucking Rambo, “Hammerhead” hosted a Credits listing with all Russian names (every single one)—which basically means this overseas sensation had most likely been seen by more people that just Sean and me. (I had believed differently up to that point).

Sean, my older brother, and I have this sick sick obsession with viewing what I like to refer to as “Awesomely Bad Movies.” The quintessential example would have to be Vin Diesel’s sci-fi thriller “Pitch Black” or basically any Vin Diesel movie for that matter. There’s just something about those fist-pumping-screaming-for-no-good-reason juvenile feelings we derive from utterly ridonkulous (I said it again) films. My brother recently provided us with a cinematic epic starring L.L. Cool J entitled “Mindhunters” where Christian Slater is sprayed with liquid Nitrogen and falls on the ground only to have his body crack into a million pieces. Unbelievably glorious? I think yes.

So what was going through Sean and my head as we forked over $9.95 to purchase “Hammerhead?” Basically we had this mutual image in our mind of a Hammerhead shark with beefy legs chasing some unsuspecting swimmers in the water and as the poor souls believed they had found safety on dry land the freaking shark would run straight out of the wave to chomp straight into some sorry woman in a polka dot swim suit.

So it’s true, a little pitiful, but most definitely true that I have no qualms with the Straight-To-DVD flick. Anything with LL, Jean Claude, or good ol’ Vin will do just fine for my fellow movie-watchers and me.

By the way did I tell you about the part where the Shark jumps out of the jungle onto the careening Jeep to try to mate with the hot secretary?

Labels: bad movies, hammerhead, vin diesel

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 17, 2007 at 4:02 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.