‘Ghost Ship’: Where’s a torpedo when you need it?
Well, if you’ve seen one half-witted, low-brow horror film, you’ve
seen them all. And if you’ve read one half-witted, low-brow review of
said films, you’ve not only read them all, but most certainly read
them all here.
The latest of said reviews involves “Ghost Ship,” a rated-R sinker
from director Steve Beck.
It’s a few decades back. John F. Kennedy is still alive, and we’ve
got a devil in a red dress singing torch songs to the tuxedo- and
silk-clad glitterati schlepping about the dance floor of some Italian
luxury liner that should have been christened the “Itsa Stoopida.”
Even intellectual loose-change like you know something bad is
gonna happen, because, well, this is horror film. And a few seconds
later, something bad does happen. A cable snaps across the ballroom
and faster than you can say “Benihana,” everyone is cut to pieces
like vegetables in a Ginzu knife commercial.
Flash forward to the present day. On shore leave in a bar at a
table sit the crew members of the salvage vessel “Arctic Warrior.”
Kinda drunk but not yet disorderly, they’re approached by an Air
Force pilot who says he’s seen a mysteriously abandoned Italian
passenger ship hanging around the Bering Strait, rusting faster than
a ’72 Pinto.
For a cut of the action, the pilot will lead this compendium of
stooges, whose thought processes are nearly as shallow as the Santa
Ana River in July, to the promised land of salvage riches and
contrived plot devices.
And quite the collection of flapdoodles they are. You’ve got Capt.
Murphy (Gabriel Byrne), who’s obviously watched Robert Shaw in “Jaws”
way too many times. Spinning sea yarns like Rumplestiltskin did
straw, the captain’s tales turned not to gold, but lead.
And then there’s the obligatory female team leader, Epps (Julianna
Margulies). She’s tougher than overcooked steak while being ably
assisted by the Professor and Mary Ann. Oops, sorry, wrong boat.
She’s assisted by the usual politically correct crew of whites,
blacks and Hispanics.
It’s a horror film, so they’re all dead anyhow. Except one. So
you, the poor viewer, attempt to entertain yourself for the balance
of this waste of celluloid trying to figure out who will be the first
to croak, and who the lone survivor will be.
After a few days voyage, the Arctic Warrior finally saddles up to
the ghost ship, the Antonia Graza. The Mary Celeste, Edmund
Fitzgerald or even the Flying Dutchman it ain’t. What it is, however,
is a bad matte painting on a set that looked like it was populated
with leftovers from “The Abyss.”
Well, let’s see. The Antonia Graza disappeared off Labrador
(that’s the Atlantic for you geographically impaired). It’s been
found in the Bering Sea (that’s the Pacific for you geographically
more impaired). How did it get there without crew or means of
locomotion? The real question is, who cares? It’s only a movie, and a
really bad one at that.
Meanwhile, Capt. Murphy and the rest of his mentally challenged
yahoos clamber aboard the Antonia Graza only to encounter a mess not
unlike that found in a teenager’s room -- dirty clothes, really old
food and messy floors. Oh, and the occasional evil spirit or two or
three.
The Antonia Graza is nothing more than a floating version of your
garden-variety haunted house. Doors open. Doors slam. Blood oozes
from old bullet holes. The ship’s compass doesn’t work. Random
objects move, well, randomly. Apparitions appear in mirrors, in
halls, in camera. Yawns appear from the viewing audience.
But there’s gold in them thar holds of the Antonia Graza, and our
greedy but doomed salvage crew is determined to make off with the few
hundred million or so aboard ship. The evil spirits on board have
other ideas, and off we go as the ghouls, ghosts, poltergeists and
generally bad special effects vie to keep us, the viewing audience,
awake and alert for the remaining 45 or so minutes of this dog.
“Ghost Ship”: Where’s a torpedo or a mine when you need one?
“Ghost Ship” is rated R for strong violence, gore, language and
sexuality.
* UNCLE DON reviews B-movies and cheesy musical acts for the
Daily Pilot. He may be reached by e-mail at ReallyBadWriting@aol.com.
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