Welcome to Syfy Schlock!, a recurring column devoted to those infamous movies hailing from “The Most Dangerous Night on Television”. Indeed, I’m reliving Syfy née the Sci Fi Channel’s bygone weekend programming, which included some of the most dubiously made creature-features, supernatural slashers, and disaster movies to ever grace the small screen. And if you have even an iota of nostalgia for that now-obsolete age of reckless, low-tier entertainment as I do, then you’ve come to the right place.
It’s now getting hotter here as summer approaches, and all I want to do is take a dip to cool off. Then I remember my sage rule about swimming: If I can’t see all the way down to the bottom, I’m not going in the water. As you can guess, this fear stems from watching one too many aquatic horror movies, some of which Syfy was behind.
Thanks to one generous internet installer, who apparently enjoyed hooking college kids up with free cable, my younger self always had plans on the weekend. And soon after, I was feasting on the very topical Snakehead Terror (2004). This one opportunistic eco-cheapo set my interest ablaze and kept me tuning in every Saturday night to see what new hot mess the network could come up with.
With Snakehead Terror, Syfy was steadily moving away from making/airing somewhat serious Original Movies and inching closer and closer to its more renowned brand of telematic spectacles. Paul Ziller’s what-if scenario about the real-life Crofton infestation, however, is still delivered with hardly a wink at the audience. Indeed, it’s silly but also deadly serious.
Standing in for Crofton is Cultus, a fictionalized Maryland town that had its own Northern snakehead incident just two years earlier. Snakehead Terror imagines what might’ve happened after these Far Eastern invaders were poisoned to death, and how locals would try to save the fishing economy. What you might’ve assumed to be the outcome of mere mutation from harmful chemicals is really the indirect work of one fool who dumped growth hormones into the water. Naturally, there were snakehead survivors, and with a little help from mankind, they’re now reaching monstrous proportions and hankering for humans.
As most movies like it would, Snakehead Terror looks to Jaws for plotting. The sheriff, played by Bruce Boxleitner, has a hard time convincing the mayor about the ongoing threat in the lake, and he’s even joined by a brainy expert (Carol Alt) to help treat the problem. Mind you, the mayor is more about keeping the peace than turning a profit, but it’s all the same bureaucratic nonsense you’ve come to expect in these trite killer-fish tales. That subplot of the sheriff’s daughter (Chelan Simmons) taking revenge on the creatures that killed her sweetheart is not quite in the vein of the teenage thread in Jaws 2, yet hers and her friends’ ordeal breaks up the procedural element intrinsic to the cop and scientist pairing.
My memory is fuzzy, so I can’t recall how censored Snakehead Terror was on television, if at all. For the DVD version of it is especially bloody. When it comes time for the humans to fight back, the fish slaughter entails a high load of choppy and quick editing, however, even that sort of filmmaking chaos can’t hide the sanguinary goodness found in the third act. The puppetry put to use only heightens the hilarity of this bloodbath.
While I imagine Cultus the town is an invention of this movie, there is an actual Cultus Lake… in Canada. Which is where Snakehead Terror was shot. Big surprise. So even though Terror doesn’t have the heated environment you best associate with water horror, that brisk and drab aesthetic better connects the story to its inspiration, not to mention helps conceal some of the less flattering visual effects. Of course, Northern snakeheads are an adaptive species with a high tolerance for temperatures. That fact makes the swamp settings of the next two movies on the schedule a touch more believable.
There was definitely something in the water in 2004, and it must have been a mild case of snakehead fever. Also in the pipeline that year were Frankenfish and Swarm of the Snakehead, although the latter didn’t come up for air until 2006. So, at the time, Frankenfish was thought to be the last of these highly specific aquatic horrors.
Mark A.Z. Dippé’s quiet return to genre cinema, after helming the divisive Spawn in the late nineties, initially aired on Syfy before becoming more widely available on DVD. Many folks like myself first caught this overlooked creature-feature there, as opposed to its official premiere on cable. One look at Frankenfish and it’s abundantly clear that this beast was of a different pedigree and didn’t deserve to be lumped in with the usual Syfy fare.
Unlike Snakehead Terror, Frankenfish relocated its finned fiends to the swamp. The Louisiana Bayou, to be more exact. This new venue could be seen as exotic to anyone unfamiliar with the Southern U.S., and this movie plays up the mystical aspect to a certain degree. After a fisherman dies under mysterious circumstances, a medical examiner (Tory Kittles) and biologist (China Chow) are both sent to investigate what looks to be an animal attack. Understandably, they thought a ‘gator was behind the death, but that theory is ruled out once the real culprit, one of several large and genetically modified snakeheads, attacks them and the residents of a nearby houseboat community.
In what had to have been elevator-pitched as “Anaconda in the Bayou”, Frankenfish truly makes the most of a tired premise. It helps that the cast is more colorful than usual in these lowly monster outings, and the writers, including You’re Next and The Guest scribe Simon Barrett, don’t play by the rules. One death took me by total surprise on that first watch. In time, Frankenfish proved it wasn’t your typical Jaws imitator.
Production values are obvious but also appreciated. For a good chunk of this movie, both you and the cast are trapped on houseboats that are clearly floating on a water-filled soundstage. Even so, that sense of tangibility brings you back to the days of genre filmmaking that relied on physical sets, as opposed to digital ones. Keeping that in mind, the titular creature’s appearances are split between better-than-average VFX (for the time and budget) and a life-size prop. The Frankenfish suit was sold off in an auction some years ago, by the way.
There’s no denying Frankenfish has a generic stripe splashed across its sharp scales, but the execution keeps it afloat and you invested. Here you’ll find genuinely snappy writing, solid humor, and even a few shocks in what easily could have been a less memorable monster movie.
The last piece in this trio of snakehead horror came a good ten years after both Snakehead Terror and Frankenfish were first unleashed. Snakehead Swamp is of a different generation, as far as Syfy moods go, but compared to a movie like Sharknado, it plays everything straight.
Don E. FauntLeRoy cut his teeth as a cinematographer before eventually sitting down in the director’s chair. And after serving up dank dreck like the Anaconda franchise’s third and fourth entries, FauntLeRoy kinda bounced back with this movie. It’s a low bar, of course. Snakehead Swamp copies some notes from both its predecessors, namely Frankenfish’s Louisiana setting and the sheer quantity of voracious maneaters running amok in Snakehead Terror. There is a suggestion of the supernatural that also feels lifted from Frankenfish, however, it’s a tad more pronounced here.
After coming up against a killer leprechaun in Red Clover, curly-haired cutie Dave Davis is promoted to protagonist, and he now tangles with those hangry devilfish in hilarious fashion. Nearly surreal visual effects for these amphibious demons add to the amusement, as does that ensemble of cartoonish supporting characters. From the deaf receptionist who later straps on a gun, to the absurdly toxic and philandering boyfriend whose death is as imminent as it is satisfying, there are these humorous and small details to the cast that keep the energy flowing. Even the main dude’s separated parents, whose strained marriage is mended amid the bedlam, are a source of stupid mirth.
Snakehead Swamp is Syfy slop through and through, but it’s edible enough at the right time and the right place. And if you’re like me and want to experience this same triple-feature on your own, take my advice and rearrange the order. Ending with Frankenfish would be vital to your overall enjoyment.
Stay tuned for more Syfy.
Tales from the Paulside 
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