A large storm floods a small South Carolina city, trapping a number of residents. They’re additional imperilled when the wreckage of a meat truck attracts a shiver of hungry sharks.
Even by the ‘it’s-not-Jaws’ requirements of most shark movies that aren’t, you realize, Jaws, Netflix’s Thrash may be very a lot not Jaws. In truth, it’s extra Crawl — Alexandre Aja’s impressively gnarly gators-in-a-flood movie, the place the opening pure catastrophe is just the start of the characters’ issues. That premise is successfully replicated right here, simply with fins as an alternative of scales, as a hurricane tears via the city of Annieville — and whereas most residents flee earlier than it’s too late, a number of are left behind to deal not simply with the rising waters, however the toothy horrors they comprise. The outcomes are largely watered-down chum, albeit with occasional enjoyable to be discovered.
Writer-director Tommy Wirkola — behind Nazi-zombie-fest Dead Snow, and Santa-but-John Wick actioner Violent Night — isn’t any stranger to a schlocky premise, and retains the tone playful and lightweight. His script alerts the third-act mayhem with all of the subtlety of an exploding yellow barrel — when Phoebe Dynevor’s closely pregnant Lisa will get a name from her anxious mom early on, asking if she’s nonetheless pondering of a water-birth, you realize the place issues are headed. The identical goes, too, for Whitney Peak’s younger Dakota — an agoraphobe who hasn’t left the home since her mom died, about to get an surprising incentive to enterprise exterior once more. And throughout city, a trio of foster children discover that the sharks are solely mildly much less harmful than their nefarious carers.
Even for a shark B-movie, Thrash is especially skinny and foolish, with inventory characters and a premise that Aja tackled with much more chunk. The sharks themselves really feel intangible and provide little suspense, whereas the opening flood is awash in unpolished CGI. Still, you may’t fault it going for broke within the ultimate act, chucking dynamite explosions, maternal rage and Vanessa Carlton’s Millennial traditional ‘A Thousand Miles’ into the combo to undeniably entertaining impact — if you happen to’ve caught it out that far. It’s not Jaws. It’s not even Crawl. But it’s fairly enjoyable, if you happen to flip your mind nearly utterly off.
More shallow than The Shallows, and missing the depth of even Deep Blue Sea, this has chuckle-worthy moments however shall be forgotten roughly 47 metres down within the lower-echelons of shark cinema.
