“Earthquakes bring out the worst in some guys.” – George Kennedy in EARTHQUAKE

MY NAME IS SCOTT FOY AND I PAID TO SEE
BORDELLO OF BLOOD

I work in the master control department of a TV station. When people ask me, what does a “master controller” do, I usually tell them that I simply have to wear a black cloak at all times and make sure that a loincloth garbed Reb Brown doesn’t break into the control booth and blow up the station. This is usually met with blank stares because very few get the YOR, HUNTER FROM THE FUTURE reference. Actually, it’s probably because I’m the only one who finds that joke funny. Actually, I don’t find that joke funny either. Forget I ever said it. Anyway, the primary job of a master control operator is to make sure that the station’s programming runs properly. Basically, I get paid to watch TV. Some people would envy such a job, but then they aren't familiar with the programs that WLOX broadcasts. As this is the start of the fall television season, there are numerous non-network programming changes due mainly to some shows we ran no longer being in production or available for syndication. So when they told me that we would now begin running Beastmaster: The Series, my very first reaction was, “I thought it had been cancelled?” I was wrong. We’re picking it up at the start of its fourth season. This show has been on the air for four freakin’ years? My second reaction was basically a string of profanities because I found out I would have to run it on my shift. I liked BEASTMASTER and I even liked that goofy sequel, but the one episode I saw of Beastmaster: The Series back during its first season made me long for Baywatch Nights! Seeing the first episode I had to run, I can safely say the show was worse than ever. Okay, I have a question. Who the hell is watching this show? Seriously, if you watch and enjoy Beastmaster: The Series, I want you to send me an email explaining why. Some of you must be watching otherwise it would have long since been cancelled. I want you to tell me what it is about the show you enjoy. Go to the bottom of this page and drop me a line. I want to know! I deserve to know! I deserve an explanation, dammit!

STINKHOLE

A few years ago when Hollywood was bombarding us without mercy with a seemingly never-ending barrage of crummy natural disaster movies that were desperately trying to modernize the Irwin Allen disaster epics of the 1970s that quite honestly weren’t all that good to begin with, me and my friend, Alex, would jokingly come up with our own ideas for a disaster flick using the goofiest natural disasters yet to be exploited by the entertainment industry. We would joke about potential movies focusing on giant F5 waterspouts or a film about people having to flee underground from hail that weighs several tons. Our personal favorite was the idea I came up with for a movie about giant whirlpools. I could already see the trailer as people flee for their lives while a giant whirlpool in the San Francisco Bay causes the collapse of the Golden Gate Bridge. All this set to the tune of Dead Or Alive’s “Spin You Right Round (Like A Record)." Sure, it sounds like a stupid idea, but when you consider that one of the big movies for next summer will be Roland Emmerich’s THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW, an ecological disaster film whose natural disasters will include two Category 5 hurricanes off the coast of California that will collide and form a super Category 10 hurricane…well, gigantic whirlpools don’t sound so stupid anymore, do they?

Anyway, one of the other scenarios we toyed with for a few moments was for a movie about sinkholes. We quickly tossed sinkholes aside because it just seemed too implausible to fathom. I mean, giant sinkholes swallowing entire cities? That’s not just stupid, that’s downright retarded.

Unless…

You work for the Turner Broadcast System, then city-swallowing sinkholes is a great premise for a TV movie! Now if TNT is the “Best Movie Studio On Television” as they so like to claim in their ad campaigns, then “The Superstation” is quite possibly “The Worst Movie Studio On Television” (although they might have to fight it out with the Sci-Fi Channel and the USA Network for that crown) as evidenced by their never ending supply of made-for-TBS crapfests starring such Hollywood heavyweights as Dean Cain and Casper Van Dien and the cast members of Melrose Place that haven’t been able to land a permanent gig elsewhere yet.

A good example of TBS filmmaking was the recent ATOMIC TWISTER. All I knew was that it had something to do with a tornado hitting a nuclear power plant. Hey, that sounds cool! What if the tornado sucked up the nuclear energy and became some super destructive radioactive storm obliterating everything in its path? Well, that might have been a goofy yet fun b-movie, but instead, the idea TBS had in mind was a movie about a tornado hitting a nuclear power plant setting off a chain reaction that could cause a China Syndrome which the plants operators must race against time to prevent all the while the town cops are having to rescue the locals from the wreckage while the possibility of another tornado hitting the power plant looms. Lame! No imagination whatsoever which is exactly why I didn’t bother watching after I found out. Despite knowing what I knew about TBS’s filmography, I was still hellbent to see one of their movies even though I knew deep down nothing good would come from it.

TBS’s made-for-TV disaster movie about sinkholes called ON HOSTILE GROUND (Not to be confused with ON DEADLY GROUND, the movie where Steve Seagal saved the environment from an evil oil company by killing 40 people and blowing up an oil rig) debuted on June 11, 2000 and would go on to be the highest rated basic cable movie of that week. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of the people watching. I, sadly, missed it. For the next two years, I would keep missing it whenever it repeated. Once, I tuned in just in time to catch the last 5 minutes and what I did see made my appetite to digest the entire film even more insatiable. The film has yet to be released on home video and I’ve yet to come across anyone who had as much as a bootleg of the film, so my frustration and obsession grew. Like Captain Ahab pursuing the Great White Whale, this movie became my Moby Dick. Finally, on the first Friday in October of the year of our Lord 2002, I would, at long last, get a chance to watch ON HOSTILE GROUND and much like Captain Ahab, I got exactly what I had coming to me!

Now before I begin getting into details about the film itself, I should note that while this film is about a giant sinkhole that could potentially destroy New Orleans, the film itself was actually shot in Vancouver, Canada. This means you will be subjected to numerous scenic shots of familiar New Orleans landmarks used in ways to trick you into thinking that the movie is actually taking place there. This is very similar to what was done in OCTOPUS 2, which was set in New York City, but, as it turns out, was filmed in Bulgaria. Also, since the movie is set in the Big Easy, there is a certain list of 10 landmarks and regional clichés that must be referenced or worked into the film in some form: the Superdome, Jackson Square, Bourban Street, voodoo, Mardi Gras, zydeko music, daquiris, trolleys, a street corner musician preferably playing either a trumpet or a saxaphone, and local delicacies like gumbo and/or jambalaya. After all, these things are New Orleans and God forbid a made-for-TV movie miss out on an opportunity to not use a cliché.

As the opening credits roll, we’re shown a montage featuring random shots of New Orleans including Mardi Gras floats, the Superdome, Jackson Square, Bourban Street, trolley cars, and a street corner musician playing a saxaphone. Also, the music for the film is a bizarre hybrid of zydeko music and what sounds like the trumpet arrangement from the score for SPEED. Oh boy, we’re less than 60 seconds into the film and they’ve already used 7 of the 10 regional musts! At least they’re getting them out of the way early.

The story itself gets off to a rousing start as we’re introduced to Smiley, the world’s happiest, harmonica-playing sewer worker as he and a co-worker are heading underground to inspect one of the city’s sewers. We’re then introduced to the film’s hero, Matt Andrews, played by a post-Northern Exposure/pre-MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING John Corbett, the square jawed geologist with a heart of gold who likes to sniff strange rocks. Back down the sewer to where Smiley notices a huge crack in the wall of one of the tunnels and, at that very moment, the very spot he is standing on collapses killing him. Smiley, we hardly knew ya!

Rescue and news crews are all over the collapse, which is revealed to be a big sinkhole. It’s here that we are first introduced to the film’s other two primary players. The first being Allison Beauchamp, head of the Office of Public Works and, as we’ll soon come to learn, longtime girlfriend of geological beefcake Matt Andrews. Allison, as played by Jessica Steen comes across as either a poor woman’s Gillian Anderson or a rich woman’s Erin Gray. I can’t decide, but her performance in the film consists of two emotions: upset and not upset. The second is the Mayor’s press secretary, George Regan, who I swear to God looks like the lovechild of Jude Law and World Wrestling Entertainment superstar William Regal. The film also wastes absolutely zero time establishing Regan as the movie’s human villain. Basically, he’s Michael J. Fox from Spin City spliced with Snidley Whiplash. If only he had a mustache to twirl. And a cape! He needs a black cape! Now while Allison is there to gather information for the Mayor, Regan is there to assure the media that this tragic event is an anomaly and there is nothing to worry about so go back to your regularly scheduled Mardi Gras reveling. In case I neglected to mention it, this movie is set around Fat Tuesday. Allison and Regan have the first of what will come to be far too many exchanges about the severity of the situation and how it may affect Mardi Gras.

Since Allison is busy with this sinkhole tragedy, she gets Matt to go to the airport and pick up her niece, Cindy, played by the terminally perky Brittany Daniel. Let me just go on the record right now and say that her character serves absolutely no purpose to the plot whatsoever other than to include a cute, young blonde to put in danger later on. She’s visiting from California during Mardi Gras. That sentence is about the extent of her character’s development.

Matt and Cindy meet up with Allison at some Cajun nightclub with a live zydeko band and a dance floor. Amazingly, as soon as they enter the bar, one of the band members, a spiky haired, male escapee from the WB Network, spots Cindy, jumps off the stage and begins sexually harassing her with his fiddle. Cindy responds by doing a sexy grind to which the handsome fiddler begins moving around her suggestively while still fiddling away. What the hell am I watching? Look, I don’t know how many of you are familiar with zydeko music, but let me assure you, no matter how good looking the people might be and now matter what kind of suggestive dance they do, there is simply no way to make zydeko music erotic in the slightest!

After this fiddlin’ foreplay finally comes to an end after what seems like an eternity, Cindy makes her way over to Matt and Allison’s table. Since the Big Easy is the city of seafood and molestation, some old lady suddenly grabs Matt by the arm and drags him out onto the dance floor while girlfriend and niece giggle. One more time, what the hell am I watching? The ladies cease giggling long enough for some girl talk where it is revealed that Matt and Allison have been together for 7 years and Allison is still impatiently waiting for him to pop the question. We also learn that the horny fiddler is actually an old childhood friend of Cindy’s from back when she used to live in New Orleans many years ago. Amazing how all these years later he was able to instantly pick her out of a crowd within seconds of her entering the joint. Oh, look at that, Aunt and niece are drinking daquiris. Only two more to go!

Elsewhere in the city, a mother and daughter get into their car only to have the ground buckle beneath them, but they are able to escape the car just seconds before a massive sinkhole swallows up the vehicle. If Jerry Bruckheimer had produced this film, I’d bet anything the mother and daughter would have bought it or the mother would have saved the daughter while sacrificing herself in the process. And while I know this is a low budget TV movie made for only about $3 million or so, the CGI in this scene is still shockingly bad.

Okay, long story short, Allison gets a call about this latest sinkhole incident and heads over there with Matt and Cindy in tow. Matt dons a hardhat and heads down in it with some city engineers and sniffs some more rocks causing his Spidey Sense to tingle. Regan is again assuring the press that there is nothing to worry about and the two incidents are unrelated. When Matt gets back on top, Allison asks him to stay on the case and help investigate which he initially refuses because it isn’t his department (What is his department again?) until she plays dirty and starts giving him the sob story about how much she loves her new job and wants to keep it. Of course, he gives in.

The problem with this movie is that it is just so damn formulaic. I’m not going to go into details about every single scene of Matt investigating and finding disturbing evidence, Allison and Regan debating the situation and how it will impact Mardi Gras, and the various characters debating Matt’s unsettling yet inconclusive evidence. There are too many scenes in the movie where the plot isn’t advanced and the characters only end up saying the same things they said the last time they did the same exact scene. This is a movie about sinkholes destroying New Orleans! For crying out loud, don’t take yourself this freakin’ seriously and be inventive! Is that asking too much? The original title for this film was simply SINKHOLE, but was changed because even the producers knew that nobody in their right mind would tune in to watch a film called SINKHOLE! The more I watched this film, the more I wished it had been made in Japan. They would have done it right!

The next day, Allison surprises her niece by abusing her authority and pulling a few political strings to get her a spot on one of the floats in one of the most prominent parades put on by the Krewe of Vancouver. I say that last bit sarcastically because I’m fairly positive that instead of using stock footage of an actual Mardi Gras parade, they just staged a mock parade in Vancouver. This is the tamest, most generic looking Mardi Gras parade I’ve ever seen and every single shot seems to show the same 5 floats going down the same exact streets from various points of view. Oh, and the hunky fiddler is also on the same float so we can get more blossoming young love to gag on. As Cindy tries on her costume, I come to the conclusion that this whole subplot is just an excuse to get the young blonde into a pair of tight spandex pants.

Then, finally, we get the big crazy theory scene where Matt explains to Allison and Cindy his hypothesis for sinkholes in Cajun country, which is accompanied by computer graphics and pictures of actual sinkholes. Okay, science majors, here’s Matt’s sinkhole theory for your own personal amusement:

“New Orleans sits on a level of silt, a level of peat, and a layer of clay. Last summer was abnormally hot. We had two big peat fires, here and here, where these two red X’s are. Okay, the fire was contained to the naked eye, but peat’s weird. It can smolder underground indefinitely. In the fall, where the blue X’s are, we had 16 reports of smoke coming up from small cracks in the ground. When public works investigated, they couldn’t find anything because the smoldering had moved on and, frankly, they didn’t look deep enough because they had found caverns and channels and burn out. When the torrential rains came through in the wintertime, it washed through these spaces and eroded away the silt and the clay. Water disappear, you got big empty spaces equivalent to sinkholes.”

I’m not a geologist. I’m not a scientist. I’m not even a science buff. I do know this much though. New Orleans is below sea level. Cemeteries there have to be built above ground because even digging that deep will generally strike water. So how…you know what, I’m not even going to bother. Let’s just move on.

Matt suggests that they should sweep the geographic landscape of New Orleans with ground penetrating radar and evacuate the French Quarter thus canceling Mardi Gras. Not surprisingly, this suggestion does not go over to well. After listening to all sides, the Mayor tells Allison to weigh the evidence and give him her recommendation tomorrow and that’s the plan of action he’ll take. Uh, would it kill the Mayor of one of the nation’s biggest cities to actually bother to “weigh the evidence” himself and make a decision on his own considering how important a decision it will be?

Matt and his gang begin sweeping through the driest sewer tunnels in the world below the French Quarter with ground penetrating radar units which look an awful lot like push lawnmowers. Now maybe that’s what these things look like in real life, but I still couldn’t help but be amused that this high tech equipment looks like something that would be manufactured by John Deere. And just to make absolute sure that everybody knows exactly what’s going on, these ground penetrating radar units have GROUND PENETRATING RADAR spelled out on them in big yellow letters.

That night, back at the site of the original sinkhole, Regan holds another press conference assuring the public all is well and then secretly arranges to have the hole filled in with concrete. A nameless city worker approaches him with photographic evidence of several small sinkholes that have just popped up around the French Quarter thus substantiating Matt’s theory of imminent doom. Regan assures the man in the hardhat that he will get these photos to Matt and the Mayor ASAP. Of course, you and I know that isn’t going to happen. You see, Regan is the most generic of movie villains. Actually, Regan’s motivations make even less sense than the typical villain’s hunger for money or power. He has a creepy fixation on protecting the Mayor at all costs. He’s convinced that canceling Mardi Gras to potentially save lives is less important than the loss of revenue generated by the holiday and to do so would hurt the Mayor politically come election time as if not doing something that could have saved countless lives wouldn’t. He doesn’t seem to completely discount Matt’s theories so much as he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t even seem concerned for his own safety. Mardi Gras will go on at all costs. Regan’s just a guy who is evil for no other reason than to give the movie a human villain. Not since the evil corporate storm chasers of TWISTER has such pointless villainy graced the celluloid canvas. Here’s an idea of my own. When a villain is so generic that his only defining traits are that he is a guy and he is evil, I propose that filmmakers should just name the character “Guy Evil.” In fact, for the remainder of this review, I will refer to press secretary George Regan as Guy Evil. So, after pausing for a few moments, Guy Evil makes a sinister face, rips up the photos, and casually drives away. Hey, maybe he just REALLY loves Mardi Gras?

Back at City Hall, Allison is anguishing over what decision she’ll make when Guy Evil shows up and they engage in their 450th exchange over what to do and how important Mardi Gras is to the city’s commerce. Meanwhile, Cindy and her boytoy enter a New Orleans nightspot and immediately Cindy starts getting eyeballed from across the room by Aunt Jemimah. Oh, I bet I know where this is going. A few moments later, the Mabel King look-a-like comes up to Cindy, bulges her eyeballs, puts a necklace on her, and, in an ominous tone, tells her to “Hold on tight” before scurrying away. Cindy is dumbfounded. Script-issued boyfriend laughs and says, “Voodoo.” Cindy is now creeped out. I am now dumbfounded. What a half-assed way to inject voodoo into the film. All we need now is the reference to gumbo and/or jambalaya.

Matt, after running a bunch of computer simulations, now has a new, even more horrifying theory about a gigantic sinkhole under the French Quarter “It’s a sinkhole. It could go in three hours or three centuries,” he declares. Well, for the sake of this movie, I hope it goes sometime within the next three commercial breaks. Of course, he can’t prove this theory conclusively. He needs more time and more evidence. No matter, because Allison decides to cover her own ass and recommends to the Mayor that everything go on as scheduled unless something comes up, or in this case, something goes down.

When Matt finds out, he is livid and rightfully so. As the lovers quarrel in their kitchen, Allison starts rambling on about how she thinks Matt is being overly cautious and that he has been that way ever since the tragic mining accident from years earlier. She rambles on about some inexperienced miners who got stupid and blew themselves up and Matt has blamed himself for it even since even though it wasn’t his fault and how he has always been overly cautious about everything ever since and she thinks that’s influencing his sinkhole paranoia. Where the fu…dge did this come from? Matt hasn’t shown even the slightest sign of guilt over anything and suddenly this comes from completely out of nowhere…I mean, say what? You know, this alleged mining accident is the kind of thing that many movies would include as an opening prologue before jumping to modern day for the actual plot itself. This film couldn’t even be bothered to do that much and instead just tosses it out there in the middle of the movie. From there, Allison just starts PMSing big time about the state of their relationship and how they still haven’t even gotten engaged. Slap her, Matt! Slap the bitch! I’ll hold her and you slap her! I’d like to compliment the writers of this film for successfully making the love interest such an unlikable, self-absorbed bitch. Nice work!

Afterwards, Allison goes back to the office, Matt rounds up a few of his associates and goes spelunking, and Cindy, wearing her skin tight spandex hot pants, is riding on the float tossing beads to the modestly enthusiastic Vancouver, I mean New Orleans, parade-goers. Watching these parade scenes, I can safely say, this is not Mardi Gras in New Orleans. The floats are to generic, the revelers are too subdued, and nobody's nekkid. This is not Mardi Gras.

After the crew drills a hole, Matt prepares to go below. He takes a couple of C4 explosive charges with him because “you never know when you might need it” and puts on a special helmet equipped with a two-way radio and video camera. More importantly, he tosses the first of what will be many glowsticks. Whenever Matt is underground, he takes a few steps, reaches into his backpack, and pulls out a glowstick which he then tosses out in front of himself to help light the way. I kept count. In the end, the glowstick total was 17. I know that doesn’t seem like a huge number, but if you actually watch the movie, it seems like a lot. Seventeen is even more impressive because he's shown putting only about 6 in his backpack.

Funny, the caverns below New Orleans all look pretty much alike. They’re also as dry as a bone. Hell, they’re not even dirty. Matt continues chucking glowsticks as he wanders around beneath the Big Easy. I briefly hope that a dragon will show up and Matt will whip out his air hose gun and blow it up and that this film will magically transform into a live-action Dig Dug movie, but, alas, that is not to be. One of the caverns suddenly leads into the side of a huge pit. Matt realizes this is actually a giant sinkhole waiting to cave-in. Oh, and its raining boulders as the earth above it rumbles. He spoke of layers of peat, silt, and clay earlier so I’d love to know where the hell all these rocks are coming from? Taking a page from the big book of disaster film cliches, Matt gazes in horror at the cataclysmic sinkhole before him and utters the line, “OH MY GOD!” One of the most unintentionally funny moment in the entire film is provided courtesy of two of Matt’s co-workers, the token black friend and the token middle aged friend, who are shown looking at the monitor relaying the images from Matt’s helmet cam. Despite the fact that they are seeing the same exact thing he is, the reaction shot of these two is one of apathy. They just look at one another and sort of give this “how ‘bout that” reaction. A priceless moment of indifference on the part of the actors, I tell you.

Matt treks back to the surface at the same moment that a crack in the sidewalk somewhere in the French Quarter causes a balcony to collapse. Allison, herself standing on a balcony watching the passing parade, gets a phone call about the accident. Oh, I should mention that moments before her phone rings, Guy Evil, who is standing next to her, starts going off on some spiel about how she made the right decision and he’d remember this when he moves up in the world politically. She’s annoyed with his arrogance. I’m annoyed with the screenwriter’s stupidity. When did the job of press secretary become a stepping stone on the political ladder to power?

Chaos is erupting at the Mayor’s office after Matt shows him videotape evidence of the monster sinkhole. The Mayor decides to declare an immediate state of emergency and arranges to have police evacuate the French Quarter. Guy Evil, being the weasel he is, is shown on the phone requesting a list of all the big money contributors on floats because, of course, the evil guy must save the rich people first, you know? Allison, who made the recommendation to the Mayor that helped lead to this mess, continues to act selfishly by rambling on about having to save Cindy. Hey, Allison, what about the other tens of thousands of people in mortal danger because you decided to value your job over their lives?

Fortunately, Matt Andrews isn’t just a world class geologist, but also a master chemist as he reaches into his lunchbox and pulls out two mini-thermos containing a polyeurothene gel that will save the Crescent City. As the Mayor and the Chief of Police are looking at this table-sized map of the city and plotting the proper means of evacuation, Matt abruptly places a glass on the center of the table and pours the two chemicals into it. The two chemicals mix and then erupt like a third grade volcano demonstration. In a matter of seconds, the overflowing liquid solidifies. Matt explains that when this gel hits air, it expands and becomes hard as a rock. He wants to fill the underground sinkholes below the city with this stuff before they collapse. The Mayor approves. I’m not even going to touch the scientific plausibility of any of this with a ten-foot pole, but I can’t help but to wonder, what if they still needed that map of the city that Matt just ruined while playing Mr. Wizard?

Matt’s token black friend tells him that the nearest polyeurothene plant is in Tallahassee, Florida and that it will take three hours to arrive. Matt, in true Captain Kirk-like fashion, tells him to have the truck there in two hours. I always love whenever a scene like this happens. They always tell them how long something will take and then someone demands it faster and they still manage to get it done in that shorter amount of time. Here’s a thought, what if it actually does take three hours to get the truck there and there’s no human way possible to get it there faster?

Back at the parade, the police have moved in and are attempting to disperse the crowds. I know this is due to budgetary constraints, but it looks more like the evacuation of a Columbus Day Parade in Biloxi than Fat Tuesday in downtown New Orleans. Cindy and her man hop off their float and begin making their way through the crowded streets. For no other reason than this movie just had to include as many cliches as humanly possible, a group of fundamentalist types are shown walking around with signs that say REPENT. THE END IS NEAR. I really hope they’re referring to the movie. Allison, still at the office, gets a phone call from the person she asked go get Cindy and bring her back there informing her that her niece is no longer on the float and nowhere to be found. This distresses Allison a great deal. Gee Allison, did it ever occur to you that she may already be getting evacuated? Cindy sees cracks forming on the pavement and on the sides of buildings and begins panicking. In the ensuing chaos, that street corner saxaphone player from the opening credits gets tackled by a fleeing reveler. This makes me smile for some reason.

Now get this. Despite the fact that it seems as if only, maybe, 15 minutes has transpired story-wise in the film, the polyeurothene truck suddenly pulls up. Did it magically teleport to New Orleans? Did it travel through a wormhole to get there so fast? Boy, I’ll tell you, when Matt Andrews demands it get there fast, dammit, it gets there fast!

Cindy and stud muffin duck into some shop and she makes a frantic phone call to Aunt Allison. At that moment, the sinkhole collapses swallowing up a large portion of the block. As pavement collapses, several people and a couple of vehicles including part of a float fall in. Also, several nearby building split and partially collapse into the sinkhole. As much as I’ve ripped this movie so far, I must give them credit because this whole sequence was actually quite well done thanks to some decent CGI and competent miniatures work. It will still enduce more laughs than gasps, but at least it was entertaining. I suspect a sizeable portion of the film’s miniscule budget went into this 10 seconds of film. The shop Cindy and her meat puppet were in was on the edge of the sinkhole so it was severely damaged causing part of the ceiling to collapse knocking out America’s sweethearts. As the phone goes dead on Cindy’s end, Allison gets semi-hysterical. As I said, the only purpose Cindy served was to be put in danger and tight pants. Underground, Matt witnesses the collapse and, since there is nothing more he can do here, decides to do a little more exploring to find more potential super-sized sinkholes. Thank God he brought all those extra glowsticks!

Rescue crews have descended upon the site of the sinkhole crater and are tending to the dead and wounded. Oh, I should mention that it is now night. Time moves at a very erratic rate in this flick. Allison arrives, looks down into the sinkhole and utters the line, “OH MY GOD!” Despite all the death and destruction before her of which she is partially responsible for, Allison’s one-track mind is still focused solely on finding Cindy. She just walks past people who are seriously injured never once stopping to offer assistance.

Inside the now structurally unsafe building, Cindy wakes up and tends to her young hunk trapped below a chunk of the ceiling. The wall of the building on the edge of the sinkhole collapses causing Cindy fall out of the building, but the injured loverboy grabs her with his one free arm and we’re treated to one of the most inept sequences in the film. The way this whole thing was staged, Allison is walking around the crater when the wall of the building in the background collapses and she turns around just in time to see her niece dangling from the side. This scene would be far more suspenseful if I actually gave a damn about Cindy. Another reason it isn’t even the least bit suspenseful is because Cindy looks like she’s only dangling 15-20 feet above the ground. This hardly looks like a certain death situation. She could just drop and roll and maybe sprain an ankle or twist a knee. Firemen rush to help and they all manage to pull Cindy to safety. Thank God she listened to that voodoo queen or else she wouldn’t have known to hold on for dear life. Allison is overjoyed and aunt and niece share a tender moment. Thinking back on it, I have a sneaking suspicion the whole reason for that scene of Cindy hanging on for dear life was just an excuse to ensure that we got at least one good close-up shot of her ass in the tight pants.

At a nearby press conference, Guy Evil coyly places all the blame on Allison because “it was her call.” To be fair, even though he destroyed some crucial evidence, Allison did make the call despite having plenty of evidence to support the sinkhole claim so she isn’t completely blameless. Out of nowhere, that guy who had brought the pictures that Guy Evil ripped up earlier just walks up to the cameras and shows them copies of the photos that weasel boy never let the Mayor see. As Guy Evil attempts to slink away from the media after being outed, a voice from off camera stops him and informs him that the Mayor wants to see him right now because, apparently, the Mayor was watching that very second as Guy Evil’s treachery was revealed on live television and even managed was to call someone within a matter of mere seconds to tell deliver that message to him. I know I’m nitpicking, but since the big things make no sense, why shouldn’t I rip apart the little things?

After Matt moves a few more feet and tosses a few more glowsticks, he discovers that the cavern he is in leads into another gigantic sinkhole on the verge of collapse complete with the same boulders falling and loud rumbling from the previous one. This time, instead of being big enough to take out a city block, this one is several square miles wide and positioned directly below the downtown metro area. Back on the surface, the token middle aged friend, seeing this on the monitor, gets to be the third person to utter the “OH MY GOD!" They feed the hose connected to the truck containing the polyeurothene down to Matt and he sets it up next to the crater and prepares to make his way back up top when, right on cue, the passageway behind him caves in trapping him down there. Matt tells them to start pumping the stuff, but the token black friend refuses until he’s safely out to which Matt repeatedly tells him that there’s no time and they have to fill it in before its too late. Just then, Allison shows up and she and Matt repeat the same exact verbal exchange we just heard only with more romantic overtones. Finally, he tells her he loves her and assures her he’ll find another way out and so she relents and gives the order to turn on the hose.

As lame as the script is, I have to tip my hat (if I actually wore one) to John Corbett. You know that he knows how dumb this all is, but, by God, he's still giving it his all and gives the best performance in the movie. On the other hand, the worst performance in the film goes to that of the city of Vancouver for its unconvincing portrayal as the city of New Orleans. I'd love to know why the producers, other than wanting to save money by filming in Canada, chose Vancouver to shoot this film.

Adding to the film’s absurdity, we see Matt standing on the edge of the subterranean sinkhole with this firehose pumping a weak stream of this orange goo that magically seems to be filling millions of gallons of space inside this sinkhole in a matter of seconds. I find it hard to believe that this little amount of this stuff, even if it does rise and expand upon contact with air, could fill in this much space this quickly. For that matter, I find it even less likely that the amount of it needed could all come from one single tanker truck. Sorry, I was thinking again. Matt sets the hose down as at the edge of the crater as we see this giant pile of mashed potatoes rising like a souffle. Matt exits stage right and begins heading down a cavern that he hopes will lead to an opening to the surface. Above ground, we see cracks forming in the pavement throughout the city that moments later begin melding back together as the rising polyeurothene gel solidifies.

Now despite the fact that the crème of wheat is begining to fill the caverns as well essentially making it look like he now being chased by the Blob, Matt is clumsily stomping about, stopping to look around at times and even toss a glowstick here and there. His surface dwelling friends radio him that the tunnel he is in leads directly into the parade route sinkhole so he can escape that way. In fact, Allison and the token black friend immediately take off to meet him there. You know how when you open up a can of cookie dough and it just sorta explodes and expands? That’s what this stuff looks like flowing through the tunnels after Matt. As mind numbing as this film has been, these Indiana Jones-like scenes of him desperately trying to out run this canned cookie dough has made it worth. Allison and cohort make their way to the crater and literally begin crawling at the dirt to try and make a hole for him to climb out of. Matt finally decides to haul ass and loses his helmet cam/radio in the process. It is quickly engulfed by city-saving ooze. The token middle aged friend watching on the monitor tearfully notifies the token black friend and informs him that the savior of the Mid-South has suffered a Tollhouse demise. Allison bursts into tears and she and the token black friend share a mournful embrace. I hate when they do the false death finale. Just as all hope seems lost, Matt uses that C4 and blows a gaping hole in the side of the crater and makes his triumphant escape right into the waiting arms of Allison. They kiss, everyone else cheers, and New Orleans has been saved. Matt pops the question to Allison and she says yes and before they can prepare for their big, fat, cajun wedding, the press suddenly swarm them actually calling Matt by name and asking him specific question about how he just single handedly saved the metropolis. Are they psychic? How did they find out that quickly what he had done? As the closing credits roll and the zydeko music kicks in one last time, I find it strangely appropriate that a movie that treated basic human logic like a whiffleball and used science like caulking material would end on a moment that defies credibility. It’s amazing! Not only was the premise of ON HOSTILE GROUND ridiculous, the resolution managed to be even more stupefying! THE CORE is going to have a tough act to follow.

Hey, they never did reference any Cajun cuisine. Oh well, 9/10 ain’t bad!

So there you have it – the definitive thesis on the movie ON HOSTILE GROUND. I decided to do this Jabootu-like review because this film hasn’t gotten the lambasting it deserves from any bad movie sites I know of which is a shame because I’m fairly certain that this film will go down in cinematic history as both the first and last disaster movie about sinkholes. Now I’m mad. Those thieving bastards at TBS stole the less-than-brilliant idea that Alex and I spent all of 3 minutes developing and ruined it! You ruined it! Now the insquestion rema…who is gonna steal my whirlpool idea? I’m lookin’ at you, USA Network! You know it’s just a matter of time! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go calm my nerves with a great big, steaming bowl of gumbo… or maybe some jambalaya.