It's not a good sign when one's gut reaction, three minutes in - well before anyone should be able to form an opinion about even the average short film - is "I'm bored." This could have been a decent "nature run amok" horror flick, like so many others, but instead every little scene, story beat, and inclusion feels bizarrely forced and unnatural. Even those that could be feasibly worthwhile narrative ideas come off as inorganic, raising a skeptical eyebrow; meanwhile, the opening scene comes off as very needlessly semi-racist, and more obliquely, so does the one to follow. What happened to 'The bees?'
I'm given to understand that filmmaker Alfredo Zacarías replaced Jack Hill before filming began, presumably also adding to or changing the script as he saw fit. How much of the picture we see can be attributed to what Hill began, versus what Zacarías brought to the table? The scene writing and dialogue could generously be described as "curious"; for example, witness the first meeting of characters Sandra Miller (Angel Tompkins) and John Norman (John Saxon) within the first twenty minutes. The destructive force of capitalist greed and environmentalist concerns are always worthy plot points, yet this and other major story beats and themes are presented so nonchalantly that the slightest distraction on the part of the viewer will mean we miss them. For lack of substantial means to effectively visualize the swarming threat, death scenes mostly just mean a lot of flailing about or gently falling down. And this is to say nothing of predominant failure to attain or even merely foster an appropriately serious tone for the proceedings, nevermind tense or dire. Richard Gillis' comically ill-fitting score is a big problem to that end, as is Sandy Nervig's overzealous editing and Zacarías' weak direction.
The result, from the start, is a picture that's a horrendous, interminable slog of no meaningful entertainment. By the time it's half over we're begging for the end credits to roll, and this is a preposterous 90 minutes long. One might argue that the mishmash is so awful that it becomes funny, but I didn't laugh once the whole while - and by all means, if Zacarías had intended such a cheekily humorous endeavor in the first place, it failed outright. Unless you also count an absolutely bewildering exchange of a few lines around the 55-minute mark, or the likewise flummoxing performance of John Carradine, occasional stock footage of bees is the most interesting that 'The bees' gets.
There are fragments here of what could have actually been an entertaining movie; this could have been one of the best environmentalist horror films ever made. As it stands, however, the production is flailing in every way, and there's no genre label which earnestly applies: not "drama," not "thriller," and certainly not "horror." I'll stop short of saying this is at rock bottom only on account of its unmet potential, but that's not saying much. Whatever it is you think you'll get out of 'The bees,' you're wrong - you don't need to watch this.
I'm given to understand that filmmaker Alfredo Zacarías replaced Jack Hill before filming began, presumably also adding to or changing the script as he saw fit. How much of the picture we see can be attributed to what Hill began, versus what Zacarías brought to the table? The scene writing and dialogue could generously be described as "curious"; for example, witness the first meeting of characters Sandra Miller (Angel Tompkins) and John Norman (John Saxon) within the first twenty minutes. The destructive force of capitalist greed and environmentalist concerns are always worthy plot points, yet this and other major story beats and themes are presented so nonchalantly that the slightest distraction on the part of the viewer will mean we miss them. For lack of substantial means to effectively visualize the swarming threat, death scenes mostly just mean a lot of flailing about or gently falling down. And this is to say nothing of predominant failure to attain or even merely foster an appropriately serious tone for the proceedings, nevermind tense or dire. Richard Gillis' comically ill-fitting score is a big problem to that end, as is Sandy Nervig's overzealous editing and Zacarías' weak direction.
The result, from the start, is a picture that's a horrendous, interminable slog of no meaningful entertainment. By the time it's half over we're begging for the end credits to roll, and this is a preposterous 90 minutes long. One might argue that the mishmash is so awful that it becomes funny, but I didn't laugh once the whole while - and by all means, if Zacarías had intended such a cheekily humorous endeavor in the first place, it failed outright. Unless you also count an absolutely bewildering exchange of a few lines around the 55-minute mark, or the likewise flummoxing performance of John Carradine, occasional stock footage of bees is the most interesting that 'The bees' gets.
There are fragments here of what could have actually been an entertaining movie; this could have been one of the best environmentalist horror films ever made. As it stands, however, the production is flailing in every way, and there's no genre label which earnestly applies: not "drama," not "thriller," and certainly not "horror." I'll stop short of saying this is at rock bottom only on account of its unmet potential, but that's not saying much. Whatever it is you think you'll get out of 'The bees,' you're wrong - you don't need to watch this.