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Monday, May 23, 2011

LEVIATHAN


STATS:
LEVIATHAN
1989
Directed by: George P. Cosmatos
Written by: David Peoples and Jeb Stuart
Starring: Peter Weller, Meg Foster, Hector Elizondo, Ernie Hdson, Daniel Stern, Richard Crenna

WHA’ HAPPENED?
Rather than writing a fully thought-out synopsis of this film, I’m going to give you a check-list of events.
1.                  deep sea exploration
2.                  tainted Cold War vodka
3.                  ocean storm
4.                  chest-burster scene from Alien
5.                  Meg Foster screwing everyone over
6.                  people getting eaten
7.                  escape
8.                  Meg Foster getting punched in the stupid face
9.                  credits

BAM! Bitch goes down!

WHAT YOU SAY?
“It’s cold out here.”

“One tiny little hole in a fucking toe of his suit, man. No bigger than your dick. Yeah, the way the ocean came in, the pressure just crammed his whole body up into his helmet. We just buried his helmet. That would have been you, DeJesus.”

“Look at my foot! This bitch put a goddamn sea monster in my bunk!”

ISN’T THAT SPECIAL?
This film is the Volcano to James Cameron’s Dante’s Peak, the Deep Impact to his Armageddon. This film came out shortly after The Abyss, and while turophiles may choose this over the classier deep sea film, it still feels like an also-ran.

It could be worse. It could be Deepstar Six.

SHIRTS AND SKINS:
Nothing memorable. Everybody gets really sweaty though.


BLOOD AND GUTS:
Hector Elizondo grows a mouth on his palm, thus making the hand- and blow- prefixes interchangeable. A bunch of other D-listers get really sick, then turn into creatures.

Notice the horrifying results.

RANDOM THOUGHTS:
Fun fact: this is still the number one film involving Peter Weller and the ocean.

Turophile: lover of cheese.


OK. IS IT GAY?
Naw. It’s cheesy and great… and the effects are a-mazing, but there is zero queer sensibility. Like other sci-fi action films (James Cameron’s output, for example), there is a fair amount of gender-based ribbing amongst the soldiers. (Peter Weller’s “Don’t call me Becky,” for example.) And the Sixpack/DeJesus bromance is certainly something.

And that “something” is short-lived.

But there’s not much else to report. This film gets half a John Wayne.

Stay away from the tentacles, pilgrim.

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