"Open Season" claims that it's an update of The Most Dangerous Game. That was a book, right?
Filmed in the 1970s and released in 1974.
This wouldn't be riding off the back of "Deliverance," would it?
I hope it wasn't inspired by The Zodiac.
This is the movie where he says, "Let's see some identification," in a smooth tone, right?
After an annoying hippy song played on repeat, the movie finally starts with a bunch of trick-or-treaters playing rough house at a cookout in celebration for three Zodiac types in training who are heading off up north the next day. (Pay attention to the start of the movie, or else you'll be confused at the end like me when it all jigsaws together.) What looks like Elvis, Bill Clinton, and some other two-faced sly dog, drive the Walley World family truckster out of the rat race and into the wilderness.
Already, the trio of predators has started scouting for potential targets.
The Bill Clinton lookalike does his best John Wayne when delivering that identification line.
The family truckster has fallen into the wrong hands and been used for evil purposes to taxi about the trio of baddies who abduct the T-X and her sugar daddy, Gabriel Byrne, who just tried to make a run for it but only managed to run around in circles.
Chained like dogs and held captive, the two victims are fattened up for the big game and broken down in an attempt to make them conform to the Stockholm Syndrome. There's a calm before the storm, with all this buttering up to lull them into a false sense of security. Look at Gabirel Byrne here, who's become a regular housewife, arms deep in soapy water, apron and all. There's not much hunting going on, only humiliation to degrade them. They're using some tactic other than what I stated-I can't put a name to it-to break them down.
I've been doing some thinking about that Zodiac fella lately. What if he met his match in an attempt to replicate the Lake Berryessa scene with someone else, was overpowered, and killed himself? It might be worth it to check records of who died in California after 1969.
Finally, the two captives are cut free, and the hunt is on.
Is that Teddy Duchamp holding that rifle?
The rabbits are given a 30-minute head start and squander 90 seconds trying to reason with the trio.
I think the only good option in this scenario would be to do the unthinkable and hide under the house if accessible. It's a huge gamble, but it would be worth the risk if it were me.
Gabriel Byrne only lasts about an hour before being easily picked off by Duchamp.
In a surprise move, a phantom guest shows up and starts picking off the trio of hunters. Yep, the tables are turned.
But who it actually is, I'm not entirely sure.
(At first I thought it was Fonda turning on his two buds.) Ohhhh, it's the professor from the original "Evil Dead," who buried his wife in the fruit cellar, who's the mysterious hunter. Him!
Well, obviously, as he's still talking on the tape reel. He should have left the damn thing alone, and no one would have gotten killed in either movie.
For a moment there, I thought it was Jim Jones narrating a taped bon voyage message before everything went south.
Filmed in the 1970s and released in 1974.
This wouldn't be riding off the back of "Deliverance," would it?
I hope it wasn't inspired by The Zodiac.
This is the movie where he says, "Let's see some identification," in a smooth tone, right?
After an annoying hippy song played on repeat, the movie finally starts with a bunch of trick-or-treaters playing rough house at a cookout in celebration for three Zodiac types in training who are heading off up north the next day. (Pay attention to the start of the movie, or else you'll be confused at the end like me when it all jigsaws together.) What looks like Elvis, Bill Clinton, and some other two-faced sly dog, drive the Walley World family truckster out of the rat race and into the wilderness.
Already, the trio of predators has started scouting for potential targets.
The Bill Clinton lookalike does his best John Wayne when delivering that identification line.
The family truckster has fallen into the wrong hands and been used for evil purposes to taxi about the trio of baddies who abduct the T-X and her sugar daddy, Gabriel Byrne, who just tried to make a run for it but only managed to run around in circles.
Chained like dogs and held captive, the two victims are fattened up for the big game and broken down in an attempt to make them conform to the Stockholm Syndrome. There's a calm before the storm, with all this buttering up to lull them into a false sense of security. Look at Gabirel Byrne here, who's become a regular housewife, arms deep in soapy water, apron and all. There's not much hunting going on, only humiliation to degrade them. They're using some tactic other than what I stated-I can't put a name to it-to break them down.
I've been doing some thinking about that Zodiac fella lately. What if he met his match in an attempt to replicate the Lake Berryessa scene with someone else, was overpowered, and killed himself? It might be worth it to check records of who died in California after 1969.
Finally, the two captives are cut free, and the hunt is on.
Is that Teddy Duchamp holding that rifle?
The rabbits are given a 30-minute head start and squander 90 seconds trying to reason with the trio.
I think the only good option in this scenario would be to do the unthinkable and hide under the house if accessible. It's a huge gamble, but it would be worth the risk if it were me.
Gabriel Byrne only lasts about an hour before being easily picked off by Duchamp.
In a surprise move, a phantom guest shows up and starts picking off the trio of hunters. Yep, the tables are turned.
But who it actually is, I'm not entirely sure.
(At first I thought it was Fonda turning on his two buds.) Ohhhh, it's the professor from the original "Evil Dead," who buried his wife in the fruit cellar, who's the mysterious hunter. Him!
Well, obviously, as he's still talking on the tape reel. He should have left the damn thing alone, and no one would have gotten killed in either movie.
For a moment there, I thought it was Jim Jones narrating a taped bon voyage message before everything went south.