Friday, May 12, 2006
Movies I Have No Intention Of Seeing, #31


starring Kurt Russell, Josh Lucas, Richard Dreyfus, whole gaggle of other people

directed by Wolfgang Petersen (Das Boot, The Perfect Storm, Troy)

I don't really know what would possess someone to go out hunting for polar bears in the first place. I mean, they're large, they're strong, they have sharp teeth and claws and they are unlikely to react favorably to being shot at. Add to that the complications that they're carnivores who live in a frozen wasteland devoid of much edible life and they are born with coats of fur that give them a natural camouflage advantage and I wonder how long into a polar bear hunt it takes before the polar bear starts hunting you. Really, they're the ninjas of the animal world: invisible, deadly, inordinately high kitschy entertainment value amongst Asians. These aren't creatures I'd want to mess with, frankly.

But some people do it. I can't explain it. Some people also hang-glide and rock climb and live in water-filled spheres in public for seven days before trying to set a holding-my-breath world record while tied up in chains. I guess what I'm saying is that evolution has its own way handling overpopulation.

So anyway, this dude goes up to the wild hinterlands of northern Canada. We all know what I'm talking about, too: no country has lands more hinter than Canada does. It's hard to get more hinter than tundra. So this person is already stupid.

He hires himself an Inuit guide and goes looking for--looking for--polar bears. To shoot. For fun.

Several shot-up bear-shaped snow drifts later, he actually shoots and kills something. Way-hey, good for me, I'm the Great White Hunter in the Great White North. Wrap that up for me, would you Nanook? I gotta catch the late shuttle back to La Guardia.

Only Nanook is all like, Yeah, whatever gringo (or whatever the Inuit equivalent of "gringo" is), I tracked it for three days and pointed it out to you after you shot up all them snow-drifts. All you had to do is... hang on, what's this?

Something ain't right. This bear, it's... something ain't right. Is it... oh my God, is it...

And for the first time in his life, Nanook is happy Whitey shot and killed something because this is not a polar bear. No, we should be so lucky. This is a polar bear-grizzly bear hybrid. The first ever known to be spontaneously bred in the wild.

Whitey's all excited because his special, special trophy kill is even more special now and won't it look great standing up all fiercely stuffed in the Drawing Room and won't all my Skull & Bones brothers be impressed. It'll be even more exciting and exotic a story than that time old Preston Brandford "Muffy" Villiers dated a Jew.

But our Nanook, he knows better. He's relieved in the short term, but he's more attuned to the land, the symbols, the spirit of the wilderness. He reads National Geographic. He knows something bad is going to go down.

Polar bear/grizzly bear hybrid. The animal eugenics program has begun. How many generations now until the deadliest creatures start to cross breed until they're bigger, stronger, faster, have opposable thumbs and the basic rudimentary intelligence to drive a car? Not long.

These so-called Minutemen, they sit around in the deserts of New Mexico building 50 foot long symbolic barb-wire fences. We laugh at them, sure, but not just because they deserve it. It's because we know the "invasion" we should be worried about is not coming from the south in the form of immigrants. It's coming from the north. The terrible, terrible north. And it will be in the form of polar/grizzlies, moose/beavers, otter/seals and orca/oysters. A killer whale with a hard outer shell and can make pearls. What the fuck are we going to do about that?

Start learning Inuit, people. Just in case the animals come streaming across with a million Nanooks riding on their backs.

As far as the movie Poseidon goes... eh. Whatever. Don't much care for boats. They spent a lot of money on it and got the effects all nice and shiny, so the best I can do:

One (out of 3) on the Hot Babysitter Scale

I'm sorry that wasn't more in-depth, but this animal hybrid thing has totally fucked with my head. If my dog starts eye-balling the local jackrabbit population in anything that isn't pure animal hunting instinct, I may have to shoot her. It sounds harsh, but do you want a rabbit/dog running you down? Safety first.



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