Editors’ note: Once a month, the Rental Rehab gals like to take a break and watch a movie that doesn’t make them want to stab their eyes out. That’s when they hand off their duties to a guest columnist. This month’s review/film accompaniment drinking game was penned by the illustrious Troy Reimink, a delightfully snarky Michigan writer and musician with excellent taste in God-awful films.
During a brief but memorable period in the mid-2000s, the CBS network aired a handful of wildlife-related, disaster-formatted, made-for-TV movies that were notable both for the ineptitude of their production and the unpretentious, all-business manner in which they were named. Later examples included Vampire Bats and Locusts, but the bumbling, D-grade patriarch of this minigenre is no doubt the hysterical Spring Break Shark Attack (2005).
The plot of this movie can accurately be determined through careful consideration of its title. It is Spring Break, that magical time in college-aged life during which shots of rum are consumed off your body then often subsequently vomited into your mouth.
At the outset, a group of blandly attractive kids gathers somewhere tropical and go about reinforcing negative stereotypes associated with their demographic. Complicating the satisfaction of these students’ various sexual and chemical appetites, however, is the arrival of sharks, who have appetites of their own. You know where this is going.
It’s all a hoot, but if you want to take the movie from simple bad-cinema amusement to somewhere transcendent, there’s one thing you need — a vast supply of alcohol. Trust me on this. In that spirit, crack the first of several cold ones, pop Spring Break Shark Attack into the DVD player and join Rental Rehab as we slosh our way through the soon-to-be-standard SBSA Drinking Game.
- Every time a widely known fact is needlessly explained (“Chum is a mixture of fish parts and blood.” “Sharks are attracted to blood.”), take a drink.
- Every time predatory sexual behavior is equated with shark attacks, take a drink. A typically unsubtle example of this lazy-writer/director-shorthand would be the token date rapist’s decision to wear a shark-tooth necklace whenever he commences with the datin’ and the rapin’.
- Every time the landscape is geographically inconsistent with the film’s alleged setting (for instance, in the opening scene, sunbathing, about-to-be-shark-eaten college girls make reference to being in Florida, yet mountains are clearly visible behind them), take a drink.
- Finish your drink when roofies make their first appearance, then again after each ensuing appearance. Bonus: Roofie a friend’s drink, then exchange high-fives with nearby males!
- Every time a character inexplicably disappears, and that disappearance seems to be of no concern to anyone, take a drink.
- Every time sharks do something that is beyond their level of cognition (i.e., the exercise of moral judgment), take a drink.
- Every time the water is full of blood whose source is not immediately clear, take a drink.
- Whenever a scientist does something unbecoming of his profession, take a drink. Such as: Would a marine biologist studying the sudden appearance of hundreds of aggressive sharks really be riding around on his boat with his feet dangling in the water?
- I can’t remember offhand how many male characters are named Chad, nor how many female characters are named Heather, but every time a character is addressed as such, or just really seems like they should have one of those names, drink.
- Whenever dubious science is employed to drive the plot, take a drink. For example, if you don’t move, will the shark really not know you’re there? Are they like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park?
- When the animals on screen are obviously made of rubber, take a drink.
- When the animals on screen are obviously stock footage from old “National Geographic” episodes, finish your drink.
- Every time the evil land developer — because why wouldn’t there be an evil land developer? — is shown plotting his nonspecific evil scheme, take a drink.
- Every time outlandish coincidences occur, take a drink. My favorite: the attractive college kids are stranded on an island, hiding from the sharks, where, wouldn’t you know, the girl stumbles upon the mangled corpse of her boyfriend.
- Every time Jaws or a lesser iteration of the same is conspicuously plagiarized, take a drink.
- Whenever an interchangeable college kid is eaten in a ridiculous manner, which will be often, take a drink.
- If that student is pulled under water, followed by blood bubbling dramatically to the surface, take two drinks.
- Whenever there is idiotic dialogue filling space between shark attacks, pass the time by drinking continuously.
- Every time the main characters make a spectacle about how different they are from everyone because they don’t drink, fornicate, party, etc., take a drink. If you have trouble understanding why chaste, temperate college students who consider themselves superior to their rampaging peers would spend their spring break immersing themselves in this environment — rather than, say, doing lame-wad charity work or some other goody-good bullshit — do you know what to do? I’ll tell you: drink.
- Every time a dangerous shark-related task is unnecessarily attempted, take a drink. Exhibit A: Girl (let’s call her “Heather”) is lowered into shark-infested waters to manually repair a shark-repellent buoy, even though they had already radioed the Coast Guard, who show up a minute later to rescue them.
- Pause the movie and drink extensively while debating the concept of a “shark-repellent buoy.”
- Every time the lead female’s virginity is referenced, take a drink.
- Whenever an unrealistic but theoretically awesome feat of partying occurs (ie, a student single-handedly carries a full half-barrel keg over one shoulder), take a drink.
- Every time extreme sports are incorporated into a shark attack, take a drink. Pay close attention to the scene where a guy goes kite-boarding directly into a shark’s mouth. Actually, when that happens, you should just pound a Mountain Dew.
So there you have it. If you’ve made it this far without getting your stomach pumped, you must be on Spring Break! Woooo! Two thousand ten!
Rental Rehab guest review by Troy