For years, the Hampshire Freshwater Crocodile (Crocodylus hampshirius) was widely hunted for its valuable skin, which was used in the UK fashion industry for high-end accessories such as designer handbags, belts and watch straps. A ban on the trapping and killing of the endangered animal was introduced in 1990 to try and prevent total extinction, but the last reported sighting of the reptile in the wild was in 1992 and, with captive breeding programs proving unsuccessful, it is now believed to have gone the way of the dodo.
All of the above is a load of crock.
There are no crocodiles in Hampshire. Haven't been any since prehistoric times. But that hasn't stopped writer/director Paul W. Franklin from setting his killer croc movie in my home county, where the most dangerous wild animal is a badger (seriously, those things are mean-tempered). Putting facts to one side for the moment, a giant man-eating crocodile on the loose in the South-East of England could have been a lot of trashy fun. But on this occasion, it isn't.
Franklin places his wholly unconvincing CGI crocodile amongst a group of people attending a wedding at the only venue in the whole of England without wi-fi or a landline; this leaves a handful of survivors trapped in the main building with no means of escape. No explanation is ever given for the existence of a large man-eating crocodile in Hampshire (seriously, not even the old 'pet flushed down the toilet' or 'escaped zoo animal' excuse) or for why it has never been sighted. None of the unlikeable characters display any level of intelligence or ability to stay on their feet when chased by the reptile, and the plot is a tired collection of well-worn cliches, predictable to the very end.
Franklin resorts to giving viewers not one but two gratuitous sex scenes, which hit the right trashy notes, but they come early in the film, and everything that follows is tough to endure thanks to the diabolical script, laughable acting (was the guy who played the reverend actually an actor or a relation of Franklin?), and extremely weak special effects.
All of the above is a load of crock.
There are no crocodiles in Hampshire. Haven't been any since prehistoric times. But that hasn't stopped writer/director Paul W. Franklin from setting his killer croc movie in my home county, where the most dangerous wild animal is a badger (seriously, those things are mean-tempered). Putting facts to one side for the moment, a giant man-eating crocodile on the loose in the South-East of England could have been a lot of trashy fun. But on this occasion, it isn't.
Franklin places his wholly unconvincing CGI crocodile amongst a group of people attending a wedding at the only venue in the whole of England without wi-fi or a landline; this leaves a handful of survivors trapped in the main building with no means of escape. No explanation is ever given for the existence of a large man-eating crocodile in Hampshire (seriously, not even the old 'pet flushed down the toilet' or 'escaped zoo animal' excuse) or for why it has never been sighted. None of the unlikeable characters display any level of intelligence or ability to stay on their feet when chased by the reptile, and the plot is a tired collection of well-worn cliches, predictable to the very end.
Franklin resorts to giving viewers not one but two gratuitous sex scenes, which hit the right trashy notes, but they come early in the film, and everything that follows is tough to endure thanks to the diabolical script, laughable acting (was the guy who played the reverend actually an actor or a relation of Franklin?), and extremely weak special effects.