So, everyone experienced Sharknado the first time around, I hope? I know some people didn’t, because they were asleep, or locked in barns by prankster friends, or staying in major hotel chains that don’t even offer SyFy and leave you in the dark for 72 hours.
The good news, for those who missed it: Sharknado was so popular that they’re airing it again today at 7pm Eastern! The good news for everyone else: Sharknado is always happening. It has always happened. Look up at the sky. Know that the gathering storm will rain disparate species, spitting them out violently on the streets below. You will look into their eyes. You will see only yourself. This is how it has always been; this is the Sharknado of which none may speak.
We probably need a drinking game for this. Or a review. A drinking review.
Drink every time:
There’s shark POV. This is a story about the sharks, too; displaced, violently disrupted, desperate to get home by sliding through the viscera of those they have torn apart.
There’s a splice of stock footage. Those are clues. Have you solved the mystery? If yes, you’ll understand when I say, Choose the third. If not, keep searching. Your journey has just begun.
Any time there’s a news broadcast. It’s a Right Now News world; we’re just living in it.
Someone dies. (Kidding, if you took a drink every time someone died, your liver would explode. Just raise your glass. That’s someone who’s one step closer to a SAG card, and who has entered the realm of the great darkness; honor them.)
You realize this movie is actually a commentary on the wild, unnatural chaos that happens to a teen when her parents have an acrimonious divorce. See her future, tending bar on a beach; see her present, as the monster with the gaping maw descends to swallow her whole, though it shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here at all.
Someone is killed, but a shark is not the cause of death. These people will not get their SAG cards; this is not called CementNado. They have been punished. Laugh as you drink.
Someone is killed midsentence. This is a tragedy, which we know from the many sentences in this film that were actually finished:
– “We’re a hundred miles from the ocean.” “You’re exactly 6.6 miles from the ocean.”
– “The streets are filling up with sharks.”
– “They know what kind of cheese I like.”
Anyone who laughs when they realize the retirement home is going to get sharkrained on has to eat a lemon wedge. No drink. These are our elders; respect their wishes. Should they wish to die as Vikings, shouting at the beast as it comes to claim them, you should applaud them. They get the drink, not you. Never you.
Make up a name for the red stool John Heard carries with him. Whoever has the best name drinks. If you’re alone, make a list of names. Violently pit yourself against yourself; it’s no different than any other night.
Rethink this game when:
A shark blasts through something. (Also an exception for outside Grauman’s.) All existence is destruction; as the shark breaks through a bar, a mansion, its third billboard, you will realize this. Set down your glass, and make some cookies instead. You’ll need it; Sharknado is coming.