Joey Fatone, a split second before his death via albino shark
It is a blatant ripoff of Jersey Shore, in that the characters are named Paulie Balzac, Nooki, Donnie and, of course, “The Complication.” They party in Seaside Heights surrounded by sluts and benches from which to press, fist-pumping the night away. Pictured, Donnie and Balzac:
It is a blatant ripoff of Jaws, in that Seaside Heights, NJ is under attack by man-eating sharks on an important holiday weekend (Fourth of July, obvs), and the sharks’ opponents resort to luring and exploding. To wit, this discussion prior to an explodin’.
Nooki: “You really think you’re going to attract sharks with protein bars?”
Donnie: “Nothing is gonna resist 25 grams of peanut-butter packed protein crunch.”
It is a blatant ripoff of Meatballs, Caddyshack, The Outsiders and any other narrative — including America itself — in which an underdog class is pitted against richie-rich folk. You know, the type which doesn’t care about anything but profit.
In this case, greed leads to underwater drilling which ultimately unleashes “white-finned killer albino sharks” which travel in packs, taking down yachts, piers and, in one case, an old-head fisherman moments after he catches a woman’s detached head near a jetty.
By the climax, the plot takes Nooki onto a yacht with rich boy Bradford, who has untoward intentions, but they are foiled by Nooki’s moxie, Bradford’s girlfriend’s intervention and a gaggle of albino sharks who take the boat down.
(Spoiler Alert: T.C. — short for The Complication, of course — comes to her rescue. On a police boat. Because his dad is the police chief who fights through a developer and Mayor Paul Sorvino’s defense of, respectively, profit and tourism.)
But whatever.
It’s chili Fritos for the eyes.
However, that doesn’t exempt it from one very important criticism. Fuckin’ A, man, if you’re going to have Paulie Walnuts in the cast, you damn well better make sure that you spell his character’s name right on the sign hanging behind the bar he owns. SALLIE, YO. MUTHAFUCKIN’ SALLIE. NOT SALIE.
Anyway, I started live-tweeting it Saturday night until I passed out on the couch. These cover up to the point that Mr. Fatone met his end (See photo above). Start from the bottom and work your way if chronology is of any import to you.
