Hippie college goobers stumble upon the territory of Bigfoot in lovely New Mexico and that hairy son of a gun is none too pleased about it. Luckily (unfortunately) our heroes have GoPros and all the “action” is caught on ‘em. Said action consists of awkward skinny dipping in a scuzzy pond, wood knocks, thrown rocks, a bargain-bin Bigfoot costume, food theft, veggie burgers, nudity (shocking, considering the cast was probably paid in veggie burgers), campfire tales, extended topless dancing around a fire pit, visible crew members, a sex montage with eroticism ranging somewhere between stubbing your toe and being forced to accompany someone you don’t like on a shopping trip to Target and the kind of excitement one finds in a film where friends got together to camp and made a movie with no script. The soundtrack is composed of the music one would find in an office training video circa 1994 and a riff on the Jaws theme and there’s an opening credits roll that lasts forever, comprised of the admittedly beautiful New Mexican landscape. This is backyard filmmaking at its most inept. Should you love it? No, probably not but I’m an idiot and I’m just happy that it exists, even if it runs out of steam (or whatever this caliber of entertainment can call forward progression) and just keeps on keeping on. As usual, I really don’t know how to rate these films that are on a level of terrible so deep, they just become surreal and it goes beyond my understanding. This shouldn’t be available for consumption, it should be rotting in some dude’s attic, only viewed once by friends and family after one too many drinks were had at a wake. Oh yeah, Bigfoot puts on a GoPro, just thought you should know that.
No comments:
Post a Comment