Dicks & Bites
What does this say about us? ‘Shark Bait’ boasts some of the survival thriller’s most deserving Victims.
Shark Bait
Director: James Nunn • Writer: Nick Saltrese
Starring: Holly Earl, Jack Trueman, Catherine Hannay, Malachi Pullar-Latchman, Thomas Flynn
UK • 1hr 27mins
Opens Hong Kong September 22 • IIB
Grade: B-
What’s going on with survival thrillers these days? The more time goes by the more obnoxious, disrespectful, reprehensible, self-centred and otherwise unlikeable, nay hateable, the main players of these crazy-high concept sticky situations get. The shark divers in 47 Meters Down are either utterly spineless or reckless, the married couple in Open Water spend so much time arguing about their first world problems you pray the sharks will get them sooner rather than later, and one of the two climbers in the recent Fall straight stabs her bestie in the back. The list goes on: The Ruins (deadly Mayan vines), Crawl (giant gators), Great White (sharks again), Frozen (that was a wolf). There were serious assholes peppered in all of those.
But Shark Bait has to be the winner of the “Oh please eat them” sweepstakes. In fairness, the UK backyard cheapie is better than it has a right to be; the plot is so rote it might as well be the calm surface of the ocean – you can see where it’s going a mile away. Like Fall, this year’s high water mark for this kind of entertaining junk, it knows what it is, and what its job is. You can’t be angry at a tiger for having stripes. You can’t be angry at mindless, B-grade schlock for emphasising blood and bikinis.
It’s a buffet
Shark Bait begins with Nat (discount Alexis Bledel, Holly Earl), her gal pal Milly (Catherine Hannay), her boyfriend Tom (10 years ago this is Josh Lucas, now it’s Jack Trueman), and their buddies Greg and Tyler (Thomas Flynn and Malachi Pullar-Latchman) on that grandest of American rites – Spring Break – in what appears to be Mexico (played by Malta). In order they are The Good Girl, The Slutty One, The Manly Man, The Troublemaker and The Black One – who does not die first. Progress! This is all you need to know about them; writer Nick Saltrese has no time for things like internal emotion and motivations. Instead there is much wooooooo-hooooooo-ing and hoisting of red solo cups, and Tom gets a chance to demonstrate how manly he is by “rescuing” Nat from an old paraplegic. Oh, and you know Nat’s a Good Girl because she speaks a little Spanish? And gives money to indigents?
After a night of “partying, bro!” the quintet drunkenly ambles down to the pier of the small town they’ve invaded and boom. Greg decides it would be a great idea to continuing wooooooo-hooooooo-ing on the water where the noise will carry to the sleeping residents, and steal a pair of pricey jet skis from a small business owner. In a small town. In Mexico, the country to benefit least from NAFTA. Peaches all of them. They race out into the middle of the ocean, crash into each other, and get stranded under the hot sun on one water scooter. Yes, they sank one. Then the shark comes. About bloody time.
Poor, poor Mexico
See? She’s terrified
Rarely has the folly of youth been illustrated by such gawdawful people. Shark Bait makes it really easy to dismiss this gang’s terror at being stalked and mutilated by a Great White as something they wholeheartedly deserve. It helps that they’re kept as anonymous as possible, the exception being Nat, who is, of course, the Final Girl. She’s the one who wants to go to bed before the jet ski party starts, she’s apprehensive about going so fast, she’s the one done wrong. And so on and so forth.
But you know what? Who gives a shit about the film’s moral failings, retrograde messaging (did I mention Tyler was athletic, because Black) and clichéd narrative? Let’s get some gnarly shark action up in here! Shark Bait is one of those films you know you should look down your nose at for its cheap, low brow thrills. But, hey, a piece of gooey chocolate cake every so often is fine as long as you’re eating your legumes and getting 20 minutes of daily exercise. Journeyman B hack James Nunn (one of his muses is fisticuffs master Scott Adkins) has compiled an intensely satisfying collection of shark kills for our viewing pleasure in a nice, compact 87 minutes, and managed a few “Oh, damn!” moments along the otherwise pedestrian way. Ben Moulden’s cinematography is unflashy, and he and editors Tommy Boulding and Nick McCahearty don’t get carried away with either shaky cam or rapid-fire cutting. We get to see the carnage in full, relatively stable colour. Because really. Why else are you here? — DEK