Score: 2.5 / 5
Anyone interested in movies where man-eating animals stalk, terrorize, and eliminate a group of isolated humans will enjoy Hungry. No matter your preference in terms of storytelling, screenplay, acting, effects, or any other element of film studies, this one has the distinction of being the first film to tackle hippopotamuses as man's better in nature. Of course the beasties are deadly in real life, and we often have to be reminded of that fact when we see the plump cuties with flapping ears and round cheeks bobbing along a muddy river. A character even says that in this film! But this is a far cry from the "Hungry Hungry Hippos" suggested by the title, and the film's potentially dark sense of humor stops at the title.
I expected something along the lines of the Anaconda reboot in tone, with knowing humor poking fun at exactly how dangerous hippos are and even with America's unique relationship with them. The killer (actually, it seems, killers, as it's never clear in this film exactly how many hippos are on their homicidal rampage) is tied, through dialogue later in the film, to a 1910 real-life historical project to import hippos into rural America, combating both inflated beef prices and slowing the problematic encroachment of an invasive choking weed in southern rivers. It never happened, but this film suggests that it did, in part, even if only as a test run. It's exactly -- and I mean exactly -- the kind of brilliant exposition that films like this need. Pull something weird from history and run with it. Look at Cocaine Bear as a prime example, which wildly fictionalized the real story but taught us all about the bizarre incident as a result!
The film perhaps suffers in making the hippos -- or, again, at least the one with a vendetta against our boatload of tourists -- appear carnivorous. Though the humans fighting to survive against it mention repeatedly that hippos are herbivorous, the beasts more often than not bite and chew on their human victims rather than, I don't know, trampling and drowning and rolling over onto them. The point is made abundantly clear that hippos are territorial and especially violently protective of their young, but I found myself wondering (yet again, as I watch so many killer animal movies) the extent to which an animal, like a human, might be irrationally and uniquely insane, psychopathic, or otherwise exceptional in its murderous bloodthirst.
Unfortunately, the hippos are barely in this film. Of course, Spielberg said, blah blah blah, keep the monster more secret to be more scary, blah blah blah. But when we don't even see a hippo for almost an hour of a 90-minute movie, it strains patience and interest alike. Too much of the film concerns its human characters: a collection of idiosyncratic "every men," caricatures of people meant to let an audience partially relate (and mostly judge) before tossing them into a vicious little trap. This works if there is also genuine drama between the characters, or if it sets them up for profound growth. But here, they're just fodder for the monsters, and that is pretty obvious from their respective introductions.
Thankfully, the filmmakers seem aware of this, because the characters also (SPOILER ALERT) nearly all die. Say what you want, but once bodies start dropping, they keep going. Fast. And bloody. I was shocked more than once at how quickly and unpredictably the characters were snatched off. It feels more random and more realistic than most films in any horror film, and I actually found myself respecting the film a lot more as a result of how it handled the senselessness of death. You're a jerk walking around in a full suit and heels? You're fine. You risk your life to help strangers have a slightly better chance? You're gonna get ripped to pieces before your own daughter's eyes.
The disaster's setup is also less contrived than in others of its ilk. This boat merely goes farther than usual to be sure and see a notably large gator with a GPS tracker; the rich lady paid extra for this excursion to cater to her son's request (or, perhaps, to impress her stepson, as we later learn in a rare moment of useful and dramatically crucial character confession). Despite a few groan-inducing shifts in character alignment, for the most part, this film respects us enough to not hit us over the head with soapy nonsense; the drama here is largely intentionally relatable to a wide audience and the acting is mostly naturalistic enough to sell it.
More importantly, the cinematography of this film is much better than I'd have expected, including some amazing shots of the Louisiana bayou and some clever perspectives on and around the boat. It's true there's a much funnier version of this film; there's also a much scarier version of this film. But for being a fun, violent, and disarmingly clever film in its own right, Hungry burned itself into my mind with some brilliant set pieces, economic filmmaking choices, and the sheer novelty of its delightful premise.
