When Sharks Attack: Unraveling the Tropes and Twists of CHUM
There’s something undeniably captivating about the shark-attack subgenre—a blend of primal fear, high stakes, and the vast, unknowable ocean. CHUM, the latest entry in this cinematic niche, attempts to swim in the same waters as classics like Jaws, but with a twist: it’s not just the shark that’s menacing. Personally, I think this is where the film both succeeds and stumbles. It tries to weave a human drama into the chaos, but the result feels more like a tangled net than a seamless narrative.
The Human Drama: A Wedding Party Adrift
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s attempt to ground its characters in real, relatable conflict. The wedding party at the center of the story isn’t just a collection of shark bait; they’re people with genuine issues. The bride and groom, Tina (Alice Eve) and Tom (Eric Michael Cole), are locked in a bitter dispute that feels refreshingly authentic. What many people don’t realize is how rare this level of realism is in a genre that often relies on cardboard cutouts for characters. The fight isn’t about clichés like cold feet or family drama—it’s specific, personal, and wholly believable.
But here’s where the film falters: the tension between Tina and Tom feels almost too real, making the shark attack seem like an afterthought. If you take a step back and think about it, the human drama is so compelling that the shark almost becomes a distraction. This raises a deeper question: Can a shark-attack movie truly balance character development with the visceral thrills audiences expect?
The Shark: A Mix of Realism and Hollywood Excess
The Great White in CHUM is a study in contrasts. On one hand, the underwater shots are impressively realistic, with a variety of marine life adding authenticity. On the other hand, the shark itself often feels like a caricature. It’s too big, it eats too much, and—let’s be honest—sharks don’t growl. What this really suggests is that filmmakers still struggle to strike the right balance between realism and spectacle.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s attempt to tie the shark’s presence to climate change. It’s a laudable effort to inject relevance into the story, but the execution falls flat. The Mediterranean has its own subspecies of Great Whites, so the idea that climate change is driving them north feels more like a plot device than a scientific reality. This disconnect highlights a broader issue in Hollywood: the tendency to oversimplify complex issues for the sake of storytelling.
The Villain: A Missed Opportunity
Every great shark movie needs a human antagonist to rival the creature itself. Think Quint in Jaws or Bruce Tucker in Dangerous Animals. Unfortunately, CHUM’s villain, Roy (Jim Klock), never quite measures up. His motivation feels thin, and his actions lack the psychological depth that makes these characters so intriguing.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film tries to connect Roy’s grief to the shark attacks, but the link feels forced. Roy’s loss of his wife to a shark is tragic, but his subsequent actions don’t logically follow. This is where the film’s ambition outstrips its execution. If the writers had dug deeper into Roy’s psyche, they might have created a villain as memorable as the shark itself.
The Meta Game: When the Film Winks at the Audience
CHUM has a peculiar habit of winking at the audience, as if it’s aware of its own tropes and contradictions. For example, Captain Mackey (Vince Jolivette) insists there have never been shark attacks in these waters—despite the fact that we’ve just seen one in the opening scene. Is this a deliberate meta-commentary, or just sloppy writing?
From my perspective, these moments are both intriguing and frustrating. On one hand, they suggest a self-awareness that’s rare in the genre. On the other hand, they pull the audience out of the story, reminding us that we’re watching a movie rather than experiencing a thriller. This raises a deeper question: Can a film have its cake and eat it too, balancing meta-commentary with immersive storytelling?
The Broader Implications: What CHUM Says About Us
If you take a step back and think about it, CHUM is more than just a shark-attack movie. It’s a reflection of our anxieties—about relationships, about the environment, about our place in the natural world. The film’s attempt to blend these themes is ambitious, but it ultimately feels unfocused.
What this really suggests is that the shark-attack subgenre is ripe for reinvention. Instead of relying on the same old tropes, filmmakers could use these stories to explore deeper questions about humanity and nature. CHUM takes a few steps in that direction, but it never fully commits.
Final Thoughts: A Moderately Diverting Swim
In my opinion, CHUM is a film that bites off more than it can chew. It has moments of brilliance—the realistic underwater shots, the authentic marital conflict—but they’re drowned out by inconsistencies and missed opportunities. What many people don’t realize is that the best genre films are the ones that transcend their tropes, offering something new and thought-provoking.
Personally, I think CHUM could have been a game-changer. Instead, it’s a moderately diverting entry in a genre that’s seen better days. But hey, at least it’s not another Sharknado. If you’re in the mood for a shark movie with a side of human drama, CHUM might just be worth a watch. Just don’t expect it to leave a lasting bite.
