Pit a reptile the size of a school bus against an American TV-news crew in war-scarred Burundi, and you get "Hotel Rwanaconda," a horror movie interested in cheesy scares and drawing attention to the plight of poor Africans. (So no, Primeval is not the '"serial killer'" film promised by the ads.)
Pit a reptile the size of a school bus against an American TV-news crew in war-scarred Burundi, and you get "Hotel Rwanaconda," a horror movie interested in cheesy scares and drawing attention to the plight of poor Africans. (So no, Primeval is not the '"serial killer'" film promised by the ads.)
Strangely self-serious, and without covering the prerequisites of top-shelf nastiness that contemporary horror requires, this giant crocodile movie turns out to be neither fish nor fowl.
The screenplay, by John Brancato and Michael Ferris, tosses out a few chewy bits of B-movie wit, most of them supplied by Mr. Jones, who expresses the ambivalence of an African-American visiting the motherland through a series of bitter jokes.
Strangely self-serious, and without covering the prerequisites of top-shelf nastiness that contemporary horror requires, this giant crocodile movie turns out to be neither fish nor fowl.
The screenplay, by John Brancato and Michael Ferris, tosses out a few chewy bits of B-movie wit, most of them supplied by Mr. Jones, who expresses the ambivalence of an African-American visiting the motherland through a series of bitter jokes.
Primeval is a hoot if you're in the mood, though, and it gets points for trying to stuff a little globo-think into the minds of Friday night mayhem fans (who will probably rebel, since only one skull pops like a grape).
Primeval is a hoot if you're in the mood, though, and it gets points for trying to stuff a little globo-think into the minds of Friday night mayhem fans (who will probably rebel, since only one skull pops like a grape).
