SIGNS
A Very Rubbish Film
By Amanda Hallay
Look, I’m not yet connected to Internet at my new house in Bath, so I can’t
look up the correct names of all concerned, suffice it to say that I’m doing them all a favour by not
mentioning their correct names; Signs in one of the worst films I have ever seen.
Director: Ishamel K.Nighthawk (or something. That bloke that did Sixth Sense.)
Starring: Mel Gibson (I don’t have to look his name up), Joaquikaminin Phoenix (or something. You know, that fat bloke out of Gladiator – only he’s not fat anymore), and one of those Mackauley Caulkin kids.
Brief Plot Summary: Nasty aliens invade earth. Then they go away again.
This is the gist: Mel Gibson is some sort of vicar who lost faith and gave up his dog collar when his wife got smudged into a tree by a bloke who fell asleep at the wheel. He’s got two kids (one of which is a member of that notorious Caulkin clan.) The family live in a big farmhouse in the middle of Pennsylvania, and one day, they find a ‘crop circle’ in their…um…crops.
Basically, the world is being invaded by aliens, their arrival detailed on Mel’s television set (and how cheapo is that?! We never get to ‘see’ the millions of flying saucers which Mel tells us are hovering over the earth’s major cities, we just get to hear Mel talking about them.)
Anyway, tensions mount (as they would, considering the circumstances), and when a couple of these aliens invade Mel's farmhouse, one would think the film might get a bit exciting. It doesn’t. The family hole up in the basement for a bit, the Caulkin kid has an asthma attack, Mel’s brother (played by that fat bloke out of Gladiator – only he’s not fat anymore) starts praying, the kid lives, and then – just when they think it’s safe to leave their subterranean hide-out – they find a Martian in their living room.
A guy in a green body suit, there is nothing particularly ‘horrifying’ about the alien other than his long, black claws and stinking attitude. He grabs the Caulkin kid and does some gyrating with him, and then makes poison gas come out of his thumb (which the kid doesn’t inhale, as his ‘lungs are blocked’ due to yet another asthma attack.) Anyway, Mel remembers his wife’s dying words (he had a bit of a chat with her when she was smudged against a tree, a la Marc Bolan) and recalls her saying that the brother (fat bloke out of Gladiator) should ‘swing hard’.
No, he is not bi-sexual. He was once a baseball champion (or something), and spying a baseball bat conveniently hanging on the wall near the alien, Mel tells Fat-Gladiator-Bloke to ‘swing hard’. This he does, and down goes Mr Martian.
However, being hit in the shins by a baseball bat would not normally be enough to curtail the annihilation of the human race. ‘Turns out that the aliens are highly allergic to water. This is good news for the Mel family, as his little girl (quite cute kid) has a sort of ‘phobia’ about drinking water, and the house is filled with half-empty glasses of the stuff. When the alien comes into contact with H2O, he ‘melts’ (like the Wicked Witch in Wizard of Oz).
Voilà. Earth is saved (or so we hear ‘second hand’ from one of the kids watching the telly), and Mel gets his faith back, the final, barf-enducing scene showing him proudly wearing his dog-collar and looking ‘serene’.
We are left to wonder exactly what is was that conquered the aliens; God? Or water? If I’d have been in charge, I’d have cut the water bit altogether, and concluded that the only thing which kept the evil aliens from attacking in the past was the universal faith in God, and that with the decline in church-going, the Maritians were able to attack. Yet when they do, everyone starts praying again (like Mel does), and the aliens are thus defeated. I think that would have been loads better than simply chucking a glass of water over them. (But then again, I am doing my M.A in Creative Writing, and so it is not surprising that I came up with a better plot than Ishamael K.Nighthawk.)
This is a really bad film. I’m used to the Independence Day sort of alien invasion, with massive explosions, laser guns, cities totalled, and extra-terrestrials being really, really scary (who can forget the alien in Alien? That was one scary life-force!)
Signs, on the other hand, has a cast of about five, no explosions, no laser guns, and the only thing that gets ‘totalled’ is Mel’s wife! The ‘good’ thing in the film is that Used-To-Be-Fat bloke from Gladiator. He was great, and we at KIU are fans of his (esp. since he lost weight and now looks ‘hot’ (in a ‘I-Used-To-Have-A-Cleft-Lip’ kinda way.) Actually, we are so enamoured with Joaquikinamin Phoenix that would like to see him taking a small, cameo role in The Kittens in Underpants Story.
Anyway, back to my review. Signs in a stinker, and I was very disappointed. The director (Ishmael K.Nightshade) was the guy behind The Sixth Sense, which we at Kittens in Underpants absolutely loved (“I see dead people”. Brrrr!) We weren’t that keen on the second film in his trilogy (that one with Bruce Willis and Samuel L.Jackson about the guy who can’t get hurt and the other guy who always gets hurt), but were willing to give him another chance with Signs.
Big mistake.
I personally don’t feel too bad about the fiver I threw away on this rubbish. I live in Bath, remember, and this small, 18th century market town only has one cinema (playing one film.) That film just happened to be Signs. I would have seen anything (providing it didn’t star Kevin Costner), and so I didn’t mind too much that the film in question was duff. It was an afternoon ‘out’, and although there were only three other people in the cinema (and of those was always on his cellphone), it’s always fun to go to the movies (even if the movie is Signs.)
We’re easily amused in North East Somerset.
Caitlyn, however, not only saw the movie in America, but in a multiplex movie house with three-hundred and twenty other movies she could have seen. She was livid. “I hated it!”, she states. “Everyone thought I was mad.”
If You Can’t Say Anything Nice About Something….
Signs is loads better than Contact. At least you get to see an alien (albeit just a bloke in a green bodysuit), and therefore you get a bit of ‘pay back’ for sitting through endless minutes of Mel looking worried. Also, Joaquickaminin Pheonix is hot!)
And Finally……
This is just a personal rant against Mel Gibson. Don’t get me wrong; I like Mel. However, I think his whole ‘anti-abortion’ stance shows how incredibly out of touch he is with the day-to-day lives of people living on welfare. It’s okay for him to have forty-nine children. He can afford them! But what if, for example, a single mum living on a council estate in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne accidentally gets pregnant (split condom/failed Pill/it can happen!) – then what? She can’t afford her first child, let alone a second. And what if some thirteen year old gets pregnant by a dodgem car operator or something? Should she be expected to give up school and become a full time mother to a baby with tatoos? According to Mel Gibson…yes!
Mel Gibson, I know you are an avid visitor to Kittens in Underpants, so please take note: Not everyone is a Hollywood megastar with billions to burn. Go and have your endless babies – but don’t start preaching that everyone else should follow suit. (And stop making films like Signs. It was rubbish. You’re better off with stuff like What Women Want, where you get to be all ‘cheeky’ and ‘boyish’.)
In saying that, I think I actually prefer Bruce Willis. I used to really hate him, but I’ve come around to his way of thinking. He was really good in that Sixth Sense, and even though he gave his own children silly names (like ‘Scotch-tape’ or something), he seems quite sensible in ‘real life’.
