Deep Blood (1990)

Warning! This film may be too intense for toddlers used to their shark attack movies only having two actual shark attacks in them! Deep Blood though dials its dorsal fin destruction all the way up to three! Of course the youngsters in the crowd will more than likely be traumatized by the inexpertly edited scenes of people thrashing in red water intercut with stock footage of a shark yawning majestically more than the demise of characters we barely knew or who were such tools, we were hoping that that crazy Indian who told the tale of the giant sea monster the Gods sent to kick our ass was totally 100% true!

What? You didn’t think this was just some lame old Great White Shark that Steven Spielberg flushed down his toilet, did you? This shark has a black fin! Do you know what that means? It’s freaking Wakan! And the only thing that can stop this rampage sent straight from whatever pantheon of deities this old Indian worships, is a group of young guys with feathered hair and dressed like late 1980s douches!

But our story starts a long time ago, way back when these d-bags were just pre-pube d-bags roasting wieners along the beach! It is there that the Indian meets and gives them the wooden arrow box with the ancient inscriptions on it that tell the story of the great and crabby Wakan! And it is there where these morons exchange the HIV virus, hepatitis, and God knows what else when they cut themselves and swear a blood oath or become blood brothers or whatever and then bury the box and the knives in the sand!

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Years later when everyone is grown up and generally unhappy with life, Wakan again awakens and if the swath of carnage is on the prosaic side (a mom eaten that no one believed the kid about, one of the four friends eaten which wasn’t really that bad because his best pal Miki got to keep his truck, and a chewed up waitress who was cheating with one of the friend’s fathers), he does at least have Indian powwow superpowers at his disposal!

Like his ability to snap a line the good guys try to hook him with! And the way he outsmarts the entire town by sending a wimpy little shark to take the fall for him while simultaneously embarrassing the mayor and sheriff and getting the unfooled Miki hauled off to jail for disturbing the peace! (Miki had his own powwow going on because the Indian magically appeared when the imposter shark was hauled to shore and told Miki not to believe everything he sees! Sound advice, medicine man! Especially since director Joe D’Amato keep showing us that stupid gray fin over and over!)

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Wakan also threatens to tear apart everyone from those they love! The mayor’s son wants to be a golfer, not whatever dumb real job his dad wants to him to get! Another guy is in the military, but only because that’s what his dad wants! Miki blames his dad for his mother’s death and when his dad sets him straight that she was a suicidal boozed up bitch who was hell to live with, Miki inexplicably says he wishes it was his dad that died! Somewhere in the briny depths a giant shark god is laughing!

But great animal spirits sent by pagan Gods are just as capable of committing hubris as the local yokels! So it is that in the end, the bravery exhibited by Miki and his friends brings them together with one of the young punks who had been harassing Miki throughout much of the film! And guess what, Wakan? This young punk with the large mirrored sunglasses and black muscle shirt just happens to have a dad who runs a dynamite warehouse! You just pooped a little, didn’t you, Wakan?

Using the wooden Indian box they dug up, Miki and his crew head out to sea and rig an old shipwreck with enough dynamite to blow Wakan in half (we know this because Wakan gets blown in half) and turn up their super duper shark beeper to attract Wakan.

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Following another of the film’s clumsy editing jobs which unconvincingly attempts to disguise its reliance on shark footage purchased elsewhere, borderline nonexistent special effects, and actors who probably can’t deliver dialogue with any conviction in their real lives, everyone high fives, hugs and the sheriff tears up the arrest warrant he has for them. Because you know, you need some kind of special permit to go hunt old Indian shark monsters.

With its south Florida locales, amateur actors who would never be heard from again, overblown and inappropriate musical score designed to drive you insane, and a shooting style that gives “made for foreign cable TV” a bad name, Deep Blood is exactly the sort of Filmirage (Body Moves, Zombie 5: Killing Birds) movie you would expect.

Normally, you would cut Joe D’Amato some slack since he had to step in and finish the movie for original director Raffaele Donato, but Deep Blood wasn’t any worse than anything else D’Amato was doing at the time (Blue Angel Cafe, Contamination .7). Still, you can’t really call three people getting eaten much of ancient curse designed to destroy a town. That task is better left to the dimwitted mayor who calls press conferences to describe the killing of a shark as revenge for a resident’s death and to the perpetually perspiring sheriff who is always about twenty minutes behind the rest of the movie.

© 2013 MonsterHunter

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