After last week's foray into legitimacy and class, I return to the genre which will always own my heart. As the following still shows, Alligator spoke to me (and my girlfriend):
Not only is my last name in that shot, but the man entering the sewer is the same man who played Cheswick in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Sydney Lassick). I've long desired to name a son (should I ever have one) Cheswick. Yes, this movie is for me.
There have long been urban legends about alligators being flushed down toilets and growing to enormous size in the sewers beneath and I'm not really sure which came first (though I have a hunch the urban legends came first). Well, that's precisely what happens here. Don't let the B-movie plot fool you, though. This is a fantastic movie (not unlike Them! or The Day the Earth Stood Still).
Robert Forster (nominated for an Academy Award for his performance in Jackie Brown) stars as a badass (just wait for the key trick)... er, cop with a darkish past who is trying to find this giant alligator. He's accompanied by a researcher who, I believe, is responsible for the alligator being doomed to the sewer in the first place (well, her dad is). So maybe it still doesn't sound all that exceptional. Kind of like a SyFy movie. Boy, you're tough to win over.
It's written by John Sayles (who also wrote the equally awesome Piranha and The Howling, both by Joe Dante). The practical effects and miniature sets are really quite impressive. And there's at least one amazing reveal of the gator. Best of all for a film like this, it has a sense of humor. Pay attention to the graffiti in the sewer (the stuff that doesn't have anything to do with me) and the name of one of the victims. Finally, keep an eye out for the original Lolita, Sue Lyons.
You know what? You may as well just do a triple feature with Alligator, Piranha, and The Howling. An all-night creature feature-thon. Or move to Portland. The projectionist at the Hollywood Theater owns a print and has been known to show it as part of his Grindhouse Film Fest. 35mm. On the big screen. I've got chills thinking about it.
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