Five horny college kids head off to an idyllic island for a weekend of booze and death in this tiredly formulaic horror film which subjects the isolated 20somethings to violent interaction with dogs – German shepherds, to be precise.
To spend more time on the plot than is strictly necessary, it seems that someone has genetically fiddled with the dogs’ minds, making them super-intelligent and super-angry. Though not, it would seem, constantly so. Which gives our buff crew time to get drunk, have a laugh, and get into their bikinis (not the boys, obviously). After wondering when the black guy (Hill Harper) is going to die, you might also ask yourself what function exactly executive-producer Wes Craven served. I’m guessing he’s on the payroll for connecting up the South African makers of this film and the Hollywood production machine. And while we’re on “what is so-and-so doing here?”, what is Michelle Rodriguez doing in this – it’s way beneath her pay grade. Unless she’s using it as a way of demonstrating her raging heterosexuality. There have been rumours.
© Steve Morrissey 2007