If you missed the book Meg, which is probably for the best, I just heard through the grapevine that a movie is in developmental hell. Luckily the book was given to me, so as I trudged through the 400 some odd pages of it, I didn't have one more thing to upset me. The only thing that is deep in the story is the setting. If you like multi-million dollar moves with great effects and little plot this may be the book for you. The whole pretense, in a King Kong/Godzilla sense, is absurd and the dialgoue is predictable.
The main protagonist is Jonas Taylor a Navy deep sea diver working in the Marianas Trench. And guess what..its 'top-secret'. He sees a megalodon that kills his buddies. And guess what...no one believes him. The plot twist is Jonas gives up diving and becomes a paleontologist to prove "Meg's" existence. And guess what...Meg wrecks havoc. More people die and eventually Meg is killed with a submarine.
I am glad this movie is having problems making it to the screen. But I guess it could be worse, the book could be authored by Michael Crichton.
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Sounds like the same premise that was used in those awful Megalodon movies...
They're just not suitable for horror movies. They're too darn big. One bite, and the whole sub is gone. No fuss, no muss, most importantly, no gore. Nonetheless, I add each one to my Giant-Animals-Eating-People movie collection. It's less a reflection of the plot (and, you know, *nobody* deserves to be compared to Crichton) than of my misanthropy.
Oh. You think the bit where the hero is swallowed minisub and all, climbs out into the Meg's stomach and chops his way out using one of the shark's own teeth is not credible. I don't know. You cynical scientists.
You think the bit where the hero is swallowed minisub and all, climbs out into the Meg's stomach and chops his way out using one of the shark's own teeth is not credible.
Please tell me you just made that up.
I do sometimes make stuff up, but not that and I had to skip read through a lot of rubbish prose and stinky storyline to get there. What does distress me is that, years later I remember it. I may have to go to the garage, trepan myself and dig around in my brain with a teaspoon until that memory is gone.