Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Film review: THE BAY

If you enjoy being grossed out by a movie, run right out and rent, or whatever you do now that Blockbuster is kaput, The Bay, a 2012 effort directed by Barry Levinson. His long list of impressive credits includes Rain Man, Wag the Dog, Diner and Good Morning, Vietnam. I enjoyed each one of those and never felt the slightest bit nauseous, so I went into this one with my eyes open and expecting a good time. All in all it was a genuine diversion, and for $1.26 at Red Box, really, what more can you ask? Still, a few disclaimers are only fair for you sensitive types:

Hard to tell if she's in the movie or just watching it.
There are giant cockroaches, hideous intestinal parasites crawling around inside dead fish stomachs, and a growing-- in both number and size--population of infected boils, festering sores, bleeding blisters and skin lesions. Add to that several instances of projectile vomiting and many dead bodies lying here and there, covered in any and all of the things on the preceding list, and you've got the movie. That being said, it's a pretty good yarn, all about how a small fishing town on Maryland's Eastern Shore is overcome with a plague of tiny monsters that live in the Chesapeake Bay. It becomes obvious on July 4th of all days, just as the 56th Annual Claridge Crab-eating contest is getting started.

You know the plot: It's Jaws plus a dash of A Civil Action, a few scenes from Silkwood and a smattering of Night of the Living Dead. At times it's hard to watch but mostly it's hard not to, as the town's evil mayor pretends all is well just so he can keep the tourists coming in. He's also got more than a little interest in the chicken processing plant just down the road that is dumping chicken poop and feed fertilizer directly into the bay by the truckload. People die all over the place, like at the bus stop or on the dock or just by the side of the road. Chaos reigns, and all because some government bureaucrat screwed up. Ultimately the town of Claridge is virtually quarantined forever, with Uncle Sam playing a big part in keeping the truth a secret.

The movie is shot in a faux-documentary style that feels so real it just might be, causing me to think that my days swimming in or boating on the Chesapeake are over. Coincidentally, this morning's mail included a fundraising letter from the Save the Bay Foundation, one of the charities I supported during the 30 years I lived in D.C. and played in the bay. I burned it. You can't be too careful.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Mixed Reviews: Poor Things

Last week the televised Academy Awards came and went and I never noticed. But I did hear about the winners the next day, and once again I sh...