Why Do We Love Movies Like Chum? A Deep Dive into Cinematic Garbage That Somehow Works
Let me ask you this: When’s the last time you paid good money to watch a film where a vengeful wedding planner gets eaten by a shark while arguing about oil companies? No? Well, Chum is here to fill that niche, and frankly, I’m here for it. This is the kind of movie that doesn’t just jump the shark—it is the shark, gnawing on the carcass of logic while everyone involved winks at the camera. But here’s the twist: its absurdity might be its greatest strength.
The Art of Being Delightfully Stupid
In an era where streaming platforms are flooded with self-serious thrillers and dystopian dramas, Chum feels like a middle finger to cinematic pretension. The plot? A bunch of wealthy wedding guests get picked off by a shark… which turns out to be the least threatening villain on screen. The real monster? A guy named Roy, who’s mad at the shark for eating his wife. Yes, you read that right. This isn’t just a shark movie—it’s a Shakespearean tragedy starring a guy in a wetsuit.
What makes this premise fascinating isn’t its depth (there’s none), but its audacity. Modern audiences are trained to expect “elevated horror” with subtext about capitalism or climate change. Chum rejects that. It’s a movie that asks, “What if we made Jaws but set it at a destination wedding, and everyone’s kind of terrible?” And honestly, that’s refreshing. Sometimes you don’t want a nuanced exploration of man’s relationship with nature—you want a shark to bite someone’s leg off mid-argument about eco-activism.
The Real Villain: Human Ego, Not the Ocean
Let’s talk about Roy, the grieving groom turned shark-hunter. On paper, he’s a ridiculous character—imagine Captain Ahab if he’d just, you know, moved on with his life. But here’s the thing: Roy’s obsession with revenge works as a metaphor. The shark isn’t evil; it’s just doing shark things. Humans, on the other hand, are the ones who invent vendettas, drag others into their madness, and ruin perfectly good honeymoons. If you squint, this is actually a darkly comic commentary on how we project malice onto nature when the real threat is our own inability to let go.
And yet, the movie never takes itself seriously enough to make that point explicit. That’s the magic trick. By leaning into camp, it sidesteps being preachy. The filmmakers clearly know they’re making nonsense—they’re just daring you to admit you enjoy it. Which, if you’re honest, you probably do.
Practical Effects and the Nostalgia of the Absurd
Here’s a fun fact: The movie uses real sharks and practical effects for the attacks. Does it look convincing? Absolutely not. The severed limbs look like they were bought at a Halloween store in 1997. But this is where Chum accidentally becomes brilliant. The rubbery limbs and visible wires evoke a kind of retro charm—like the filmmakers are paying homage to the B-movies of the ’70s and ’80s, where audiences were expected to suspend disbelief just enough to enjoy the carnage.
What many people don’t realize is that practical effects, even when bad, often create a more memorable experience than CGI. Why? Because flaws humanize the art. When you see a clearly fake limb flopping around, it reminds you that real people made this mess. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a dad joke: so bad it’s good. And in an age of hyper-polished Marvel blockbusters, there’s something oddly radical about a movie that says, “We’ll just throw some fake blood in a pool and call it a day.”
The Cultural Cringe That Binds Us
Let’s zoom out. Why do movies like Chum keep getting made? Because they tap into a universal truth: we love laughing at our own fears. Shark movies, zombie apocalypses, alien invasions—these are all just excuses to watch characters panic, argue, and die in increasingly absurd ways. It’s not about the threat; it’s about the human response to it.
From my perspective, this reflects a deeper cultural fatigue. We’re bombarded with real-world crises daily—climate disasters, political chaos, existential AI dread. Sometimes, the only sane response is to watch a movie where a lawyer argues about oil clients while a shark circles her boat. It’s cathartic. It says, “Life doesn’t make sense either, so why not enjoy the chaos?”
Final Thoughts: Embrace the Garbage
Here’s the takeaway: Chum isn’t good, but it’s not trying to be. It’s a movie that understands its place in the universe—right at the bottom of the ocean, gnawing on the bones of better films. And yet, in its own way, it’s a triumph. It proves that you don’t need Oscar-worthy performances or groundbreaking visuals to create something memorable. All you need is a killer hook (pun intended), a bunch of idiots in a boat, and a guy named Roy who’s mad at a fish.
So next time you’re scrolling through streaming options and stumble on something that looks utterly ridiculous… press play. Because sometimes, the best way to appreciate art is to stop taking it so seriously. After all, if a shark attack wedding movie can make us laugh at ourselves, isn’t that worth a few hours of our time?
