Posted by: Peter Hall
I cannot review SHARK IN VENICE so much as I can form sentences under a headline that categorizes said words as a review. Danny Lerner’s 84 minutes of strung together visuals do not qualify as a film. To be fair, I have no clue what they qualify as, but film is not a word that springs to mind.
First off, please re-read that title. Then look to the right at that magnificent poster. Revel in the asymmetrical plurality. One of them is a lie. Of course there aren’t any sharks in Venice. Multiples would be pushing the boundaries of absurdity, donchaknow. There is a singular selachimorpha stalking the touristy water ways, however. Or, rather, I should say that is the implication. A shark appears briefly at the beginning of the movie, pops up again 20 minutes in, disappears for 50 minutes only to reappear when it matters least.
So what I thought was SHARKS IN VENICE, is actually SHARK IN VENICE, is actually SHARK IN VENICE, BUT NOT REALLY. Under no capacity does this fall under the horror umbrella. It is not, as advertised, a nature-run-amok story, but a poor man’s poor man attempt at Indiana Jones artifact adventuring. Les Weldon’s script is bottom of the barrel, cash in your dreams product, of which the kindest adjective I can summon is ‘misshapen’. And did I mention it stars Stephen Baldwin?
No, I did not, because that, my friends, is what is colloquially known as The Punchline.