Movie Review: Deep Blue Sea

Deep Blue Sea, Movie Title or a Metaphor for the Human Condition,

By

Drew Smith

The movies; the bad guy falls in a pile of manure, the right guy gets the pretty girl and Samuel L. Jackson never dies under any circumstances. But the film, Deep Blue Sea, is not a movie, it is a hand guide for life. And not just in a, "I must survive these genetically enhanced super sharks" sense. Oh no, just beneath the surface of the turbid waters of Renny Harlin's movie theater thriller lies a symphony composed of the holy portions of each of the great philosopher's most sentient revelations. Within this 129 minute masterpiece lies every basic question man ever need pose to himself. Man against beast, man against human engineered super fish, man against himself( as seen in S.M.J's moving pre-death speech) and, definitely most of all, man against the very salty womb he first flopped forth from; the deep...blue...sea. When carefully examined it is plain to see that Deep Blue Sea is nothing more than an on screen representation of humanities "akaward" teenage years. At the peak of our evolutionary independence, when we are no longer subservient to the whims of ruthless and overbearing Mother Nature, the Earth begins calling us at our friend's house past curfew to remind us that the most common teenager related deaths are caused by drunk drivers. The constant flow of water searching for S.LJ., LL.C.J, Thomas Jane, Michael Rappaport and the angelic Saffron Burrows represents, at its core, the punishment of a naughty child by its hovering helicopter momma; and this mother does not follow the rules. Sensing the raw epic nature of the script, Harlin takes risks that even the most seasoned of Hollywood directors wouldn't take. Only a director with film credentials like Die Hard 2 and the Sly Stallone slice of brain gold, Cliffhanger would have the tits to kill off the movie's only viable star before the 45 minute mark. And if that weren't enough, Harlin serves up the same fate to the movie's only comedic force and main sexual centerpiece before the film climaxes in a gush of dynamite and sharks blood.

If you are an average film goer, a "Wes Anderson", "Coen Brothers" (do these" " denote sarcasm?) fanboy, you need not buy a ticket for this opus of imagination and hardcore thrill. If you enjoy a nice, well fitting romantic comedy or a society rocking documentary, beat your feet. This movie is for madmen. This movie is a treatise on the Steppenwolf. This movie is not for everybody.