Jan 31, 2011

The Rig

To be honest, when I learned of the massive oil spill at the hands of BP in the Gulf of Mexico, my constant lingering thought wasn't of the destruction of the environment nor the hundreds of photos flooding social networking mediums of creatures covered in oil, dying. No, my constant was the slow realizing that soon we will be faced with an amassing of substandard horror films tacked on to adrenalize current events, sort of like what Bong Joon-ho accomplished with his tidy monster film The Host. Starring the incredibly bloated William Forsythe and Art LaFleur, The Rig only exists to profit off of the natural disaster. If anything, The Rig only manages to kick the ecosystem while it's down and out. Nothing of any value exists within The Rig, even for a fan of deep-sea terror as myself. It couldn't possibly be as challenging to invent a distinguishable creature as The Rig proposes through their lack of effort. In fact, the beastly hunters in The Rig seem awfully familiar. Oh, that's right. The supposed prehistoric monsters seem to be a rubber modeling of the "Sleestaks" from Land of the Lost painted black.

The Rig is similar to that of a scorned dog whom begs for forgiveness with doe eyes. As a dog would cower to your feet with its chew toy, The Rig hopes to amend its short-comings with likenesses to James Cameron's Aliens. As if casting a butch Puerto Rican replacement to Vasquez wasn't enough, the off-shore rig is under the ownership of a Weyland Drilling Corp. Opening up with a submersible view of the drill penetrating the ocean floor, purplish steam begins to vent, confusing the gentleman in the manned vehicle. Suddenly, a disembodied jaw is shown snapping at the camera, destroying it and severing the feed to the control room. This character doesn't think much of it, however, as he and his crew are all vegetables, slave to the paper. The worst offender is the token heroic icon Faulkner, as he tirades endlessly about his past tours with Special Forces and manages to suffer the most hilarious, albeit predictable, fate of all the crew. Several progressive fixtures are installed early on but hardly linger in the memory, such as Freddy and his little brother Colin. After awhile, you start to wonder if the "script" these actors are reading from aren't just daily calender quips.

The Intruder Within is a film of questionable meaning to The Rig. Perhaps the BP oil spill brought back fond childhood memories of the TV movie, but then again, that's highly unlikely as any comparison is drawn at the plot and not the now-antique execution. It's a silly thing that low-budget monster films put together before the millennium retains a certain charm that renders them highly watchable and enjoyable. It seems that no matter how close the current generation of creature-features try cutting it to the mold the result will also turn out to be a deformity and a near unwatchable abomination. The Rig is a prime offender in this instance. A shallow fit of comatose digital horror that refrains from excitement or amusing its own humble guests. It's trash like this that makes me ashamed to hold horror close to me as it seems more likely that an inept horror film be made then, say, an incompetent drama. For the first time in quite a bit, I'm actually at a loss for words as to this lifeless garbage before me.


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