To whom it may concern,
The hell with you.
Socrates and Orlando
That pretty much sums up our feeling toward this new pile. Normally when a movie is bad, there is something redeeming about it. Either there's violence, nudity, or dialogue so bad that you can't stop laughing (i.e. "I f@#$ed guys like you in prison" from Roadhouse).
But Sasquatch had none of these. Personal consolations go out to Mr. Lance Henriksen, who having come from a history of decent projects (Bishop from Aliens) was somehow roped into playing a CEO who lost his daughter and top researcher to a plane crash in the Cascades.
He hires a team to come with him, including two local guides, a drunk of a trophy hunter, his tech geek who also has a fetish for undiscovered furries, and a blond minx from the insurance companies who's swinging for him.
The movie deeply desires to be a modern Predator, with hints of industrial espionage replacing hints of military espionage and replacing an eight foot alien trophy hunter with a partly shaved silver-back hellbent on revenge for the death of its mate (Orca, anyone?).
Then even give Bigfoot/Yeti/Sasquatch this weird CGI vision, almost like Photoshop when you switch to negative and then blur the brights. Better still, they can dodge bullets, but apparently a plummeting plane traveling at maybe 200 mph is just unavoidable. It all makes about as much sense as the description of it. But he's got all this going for him, which is nice.
But as bad as all this is, it could get better. We thought, "The Sasquatch has to show up still," 60 minutes into the movie (Did Godot take this long? Honestly!) He could mangle all but Lance who then covers himself with mud, makes a bamboo bow from redwood and a vine trap with spiky saplings.
Photo Taken By Rachelle Sadler
But none of that happened- well not in this movie. We don't want to give away the ending, but let's just say it's a good thing there were no sharp objects around or else we might have slit our own wrists. But to give you a hint, Hilary Clinton's book It Takes a Village was definitely inside Lance's backpack.
This movie contains two deaths, both human, maybe five more implied, a couple of dried husks of corpses and lots of Lance Henriksen brooding.
Four nipple clamps out of five. See it tonight.
Think you've seen something worse? Or seen something at the video store that you don't have the guts to rent? Send in any request that aren't Manos, Hands of Fate to Rama@canyonnewspaper.com and we'll brave the rapids.