So, shortly the evening after watching Chupacbra Terror, an '05 clunker that appears to have been made for the Sci-Fi channel, I had a dream about the titular creature.
My job involves a lot of client interaction. I've one particular client, we'll call them client X, who is particularly needy. I must have to haul ass across town three or four days a week just to given them some handholding and reassure them that they are, in fact, getting decent customer service. Client X is a big money deal. They must account for something like 50% of my employer's revenue. Consequently, whatever they want from us, they get.
In my dream, I dreamt Client X demanded that every time I show up for a review at their office, I come wearing the monster suit from Chupacabra Terror. As far as monster suits go, it's a nice one. It looks like a more insect-like version of an orc from the Lord of the Ring flicks. The body is slightly taller than your average Joe. It's dark green with exo-skeletal plates across the chest and back. There's something dog-like about the face. All and all, it's a perfectly serviceable monster. But, as I learned in the dream, it makes for crappy business-wear. It was uncomfortable and hot. I kept hitting the head on the top of the subway door. It was impossible to type with the hands of the animal on. The thing has these long, webbed claws, so I had to hold my hands high above the keyboard and hunt and peck.
It took several hours to get the suit on and off (in my dream, I have no idea how long it took the actor in the flick to suit up), so, even when I wasn't at Client X's, I tended to wear the suit in the office. I'd just take the head off so I could breathe. At one point in the dream, my boss caught me sitting at my desk, head-off the monster suit, hunting and pecking out some memo with my Chupa-claws. "What?" he asked. "Is it casual Friday? Put the head back on."
I bring all this up because the image of a chupacabra-suit wearing office employee is considerably more entertaining than anything you'll find in Chupacabra Terror. The flick is a weak, generic creature feature that, other than the design of the main monster, has little to recommend it.
Dr. Moron, a doctor of crypto-zoology (from some place that issues doctorates in crypto-zoology, presumably), captures the infamous "goat sucker" and decides to transport it back to the US by smuggling it onto a cruise ship. Within minutes, the monster is free and eating its way through the films cast of 12th string nobodies. Eventually a team of the Navy's least effective SEAL team members and a tae-bow instructor (who subdues the creature temporarily with her fitness regimen – I wish I was kidding) face-off against the creature in a final showdown in the cruise ship's engine room. This thin plots runs from tedious to silly without ever rolling within sight of scary.
The acting and effects are equally unfortunate. The sole "name" in the flick is John Rhys-Davis, who plays the ship's beleaguered captain: Admiral Fire-My-Agent. Despite gamely attempting to add some actual interest to the film, Rhys-Davis's acting is wasted effort here. Aside from the beast, the effects are television-grade. There's one nice disemboweling that's handled with sufficient splattiness. Otherwise, the movie's more apt to induce indifference rather than terror.
Using the sadly underutilized Viscount of Arbuthnott rating scale, I can't give this eminently avoidable flick anything more than a Robert Arbuthnott the 4th. Emphasis on the "not."