I'm back again, after a few weeks away. I needed some time away from the blog, for various reasons. We'll see for a little while what kind of schedule I'll keep from here out.
Final Sharknado Film
Released, Producers Threaten To Revisit Franchise
Los Angeles (AP) The unlikely Z-movie that launched a
franchise came to a close in recent days with The Last Sharknado: It’s About Time, a time traveling bit of
nonsense that supposedly wrapped up the preposterous concept of sharks caught
up in tornadoes and wrecking havoc with the world. The franchise gave new life
to careers on life support for its two leading players, earned scorn and
ridicule from anyone with good taste, and launched a million memes.
The stars and producers of the series have been on a
publicity tour in the last few days since the final film in the franchise
aired. Sharknado was the sort of film
that was deemed so bad you had to see it, and of course despite diminishing
returns in terms of ratings, for the last few years it was followed up by a
number of sequels and other preposterous mashups- Lavantula, Blizwolf, Corgiquake,
and TsunaMidler, a film which has not
been aired since Bette Midler’s attorney filed an injunction to prevent its
release.
Anthony Ferrante and David Michael Latt, who have shepherded
the franchise as producers, gathered together with actors Ian Ziering and Tara
Reid, who have been with the franchise since the first film as the unlikely
protagonists Fin and April. Actress Vivica A. Fox, who appeared in the second
and sixth installments of the franchise, joined them on a stage at the
production offices of The Asylum. Real reporters were assembled along with
entertainment reporters, who were in a delirious state, having had
watched the film five times straight.
Much has been said about how this film closes out the
franchise. Time travel to stop the sharknadoes from ever starting is employed.
A schmuck of a leading man bounces around time to save the world, meeting
historical figures and stumbling through big events. Nazis, dinosaurs, American
Revolutionary figures, knights, and far more are all exploited in a mashup of a
plot with plotholes so big you could fly a jumbo jet through them. The
requisite cameos of people playing themselves or unlikely roles (Latoya Jackson
as Cleopatra? Seriously???) are all accounted for. People with a working brain
might muse that time travelers could do us all a favour and remove Ferrante,
Latt, Ziering, and Reid from the timeline.
“Sharknado has
been a blessing,” Ziering was saying on stage, smiling like a loon. “Before all
this started, I was in trouble. My days of teen hearthtrobness in 90210 was behind me. The parts had dried
up, the loan sharks were ready to break my legs, and I was subsisting on dollar
store macaroni and cheese every night. Now I’m a star again. Life is good for the Big Z.”
“It paid for my latest round of plastic surgery,” Reid
added.
Fox smiled. “And you wouldn’t think to look at you.”
“Thanks. Wait, was that a compliment?” Reid asked.
“A lot of people have been talking over the last few days
about how we wrapped things up,” Latt cut in. “Is this really the final Sharknado? Do Fin and April get the
chance to have a happy ending and walk off into the sunset together? Or are we
going to go back on our word and release, say, Sharknado 7: Revenge Of The Hammerheads. Incidentally, that’s only
the working title for the next film. Wait, did I say that out loud?”
Reid spoke up again. “You know, people come up to us in the
streets and thank us for making these films. Sharknado has become this cultural icon that the fans just love to
pieces. Not shark bite sized pieces. I mean, it’s the kind of story you can sit
down and watch with the kids and your grandma while sharks get tossed out of
the skies and start eating Al Roker. It’s Americana,
everyone. That Norman Rockhead guy couldn’t have painted it any better than how
we tell it. Apple pie, football on Friday nights, and Sharknado. That’s America at its best.”
“Shakespeare, eat your heart out,” Ziering boasted. “If he
was around today, he’d be writing stories just like this. Because Sharknado is high art. It’s our best expression of culture and spirit
and ambition. I don’t see why we’re not getting lavished with awards for it,
but maybe that’s just some big conspiracy to give awards to movies that aren’t
as good as ours are. Particularly since we got rid of that miserable has-been Hasselhoff.”
David Hasselhoff, the Z-list actor, egotistical buffoon, and
full blown alcoholic, had appeared in a couple of the films as Fin’s father
Gil, but had been removed after fights with Ziering and a subsequent mutual
restraining order preventing the two actors from being in the same place. An
uneasy tension settled over the room, broken by a shout. “I heard that!” Everyone
turned. There, standing at the back of the room, was the Z-list actor himself,
with bloodshot eyes suggesting he had been drinking, holding a half empty
bottle of vodka that confirmed that he had been drinking. He looked mad. “You
take that back!”
Ziering sneered. “Make me!”
Hasselhoff advanced through the room. “I didn’t raise you to
talk back, you punk!”
Fox asked, “Are you aware that you were only playing his character’s father?”
“Don’t confuse the Hoff with facts!” Hasselhoff bellowed,
stumbling, pointing at Ziering. “Get down here, you snot nosed brat, and let’s settle this once and for
all!” At this point, real reporters were quietly getting out of the way.
“Could we get some security in here?” Ferrante called.
“David, now we’ve talked about this,” Latt said in a
reasonable tone. “There’s a restraining order out against you, and you’re not
allowed to come out and antagonize our cast like this. Please step out before
this becomes difficult.”
Ziering got up out of his chair. “I’ve kicked your ass every time you’ve started a fight, old
man, remember? Or has the booze destroyed what’s left of your memory like it
has your reputation?”
Hasselhoff glared. “Nobody
talks to the Hoff like that!” He threw the vodka bottle at the stage. It missed
by far, hitting the back wall, smashing into pieces. His expression of rage
turned to shock. “Oh, no! My precious vodka!” For a moment he didn’t move,
caught up in his own despair. Then he looked at Ziering again. “You made the Hoff do that! I’m going to kill you, you punk!”
The two charged at each other, Ziering throwing himself off
the stage, Hasselhoff meeting him halfway. The actors started hitting each
other, knocking into reporters, using chairs to smash into each other as the
press conference turned into a melee. It ended with Hasselhoff on the floor,
bearing more fresh cuts than the victorious Ziering, screaming over and over
again, “He broke my beautiful face!”
As the groaning and whiny Hasselhoff was taken away by
paramedics, Latt and Ferrante were apologetic to reporters. “We’ll make sure he
never gets near one of our press conferences again. We’ll try to do better,”
Ferrante vowed.
Latt nodded. “And when it comes time for Sharknado Ten: This Time We Really Mean It’s
The Last One, hopefully by then Hasselhoff will either have choked on a
combination of vomit, cheeseburgers, and beer… or he’ll have sobered up and
changed his ways. I expect it’ll be the former.”
Ferrante looked at his fellow producer. “David, ixnay on the
Sharknado Tenay.”
Latt looked back at him, confused. “Wait… did I say Sharknado Ten out loud?”
