Over the past several years, a number of filmmakers have embarked on a mission. That mission has been to warn humanity about the way it treats its home. This green realm, this variant sphere, our Earth. From Al Gore and his documentary, I forgot the fucking name, to some crap director who made End of Tomorrow or whatever the hell that shit was called, these filmmakers, nay these artists, have attempted to change the world. Change the world by showing us our folly through our ignorant destruction of the environment and what costs such destruction would reap. But no film, be it a work of fact or fiction, has ever resonated with a more soul-searing scar upon our environmental psyche than Sharknado.
Starting “20 miles off the cost of Mexico” immediately showcases the international significance of this problem. And more, what great work of art does not start with the phrase “off the coast?”
We are introduced to humans at our most evil. As they ruthlessly murder sharks. Why must these sharks pay the ultimate price? For what great benefit to science have our toothy brethren laid down their lives? Well, it was in order to have soup. Tons of dead sharks equal but a few ounces of this soup. What kind of a world puts such a value on soup? Where does soup even truly fit on the dinner scale? I don’t even like the word. Say it aloud: soup. Yuck.
(Editor’s note: If they noticed the script was called Sharknado, they really should not have been dicking around with sharks.) Continue reading