The Haunted Sea

I don't know where to begin with this one.  Maybe the beginning?  You know that I have a thing for monsters, especially those of the "rubber suit" variety.  Well, The Haunted Sea, which I somehow missed upon its street date in 1997, sports a serious ripsnorter.  A ghost ship is discovered near the Yucatan Peninsula, and I've already spilled more details than is necessary.  Be patient with me.  Our crew of windjammers ferrets out a sheaf of Aztec treasure.  After requisite character introductions and a liberal tinge of gratuitous nudity (thank you, Krista Allen), one of the mariners is optically jolted by a statue of Quetzalcoatl.  Yes, the same deity that assails New York in Larry Cohen's Q: The Winged Serpent.

This is a New Horizons picture, so it shouldn't surprise you to learn that it misappropriates Aztec mythology.  First of all, Quetzalcoatl is a winged serpent.  The creature in this movie is essentially a were-snake that has the ambulatory properties of a raptor.  I did some reading, and sure enough, The Haunted Sea repurposes dinosaur effects from Carnosaur 2.  Roger, you crafty son of a bitch.  Make no mistake, Mr. Corman's fingerprints are all over this flick.  I, for one, wouldn't have it any other way.  For being direct-to-video swill, it's remarkably easy to watch.  The 73-minute running time helps matters.  I didn't get too many chances to cantankerously look at my watch and sigh like a self-respecting jackhole critic.

Have I mentioned the gratuitous nudity yet?  Oh, I have?  Because I think director Dan Golden wants me to mention it again.  We see stupidly large breasts within five minutes of the opening credits.  If I didn't know any better, I'd wager that Golden shot the nude scenes first just in case his starlet had second thoughts.  Oh, wait.  That was actually what happened.  Have you no shame, Quetzacoatl?  Elsewhere, the death sequences are plenty bloody.  They have the adverse consequence of showing us endless footage of people walking down shadowy corridors.  Oh, I can't get enough people walking down shadowy corridors.

In summation, I can't say that I was terribly offended by The Haunted Sea.  It's not exactly praiseworthy, but it gave me what I wanted.  "An unofficial Carnosaur sequel?"  Yes.  I mean, no.  It gave me wacky monster action in less time than it takes Roman Reigns to enter a ring.  Seriously, 73 minutes?  That's downright scrupulous.  Why, it's kind.  Recommended to fans of naked women and James Brolin's general indifference.