Any film in which Bridget Fonda yells "Don't throw heads at me." has to be a winner, a nugget of dialogue that pretty much sums up the lowbrow mentality of this film. Essentially an affectionate of films like Jaws and its poorer imitators, Lake Placid is another one of those monster movies in which unsuspecting unfortunates get chomped in half by something nasty lurking beneath the water. In this case, the something nasty in question is a rather large crocodile, that has somehow managed to swim all the way from Asia to Maine, the setting for Stephen King's novels, where it begins to gorge itself on local yokels, smug divers and grizzly bears, such is its appetite. 

The over-sized reptile relocates at the ominously named Black Lake, and one wonders why, with a title like that, people would want to go there in the first place. Of course, people do come, as the creature's eating habits soon attract the interests of a New York paleontologist (Bridget Fonda), the kindly warden (Bill Pullman) and even a weird hunter who ensnares reptiles and ladies in equal measures, spouting nonsense about mysticism and mythology whilst he does so--the Timothy Leary of crocodile trapping, if you like. Much of the film's humor comes from the banter and barbed witticisms exchanged between the characters whilst they endeavor to catch the beast and do their best not to be dismembered; all the best lines go to the grouchy sheriff (Brendon Gleeson), who is permitted to plumb new depths of sarcasm not normally found in such a picture--they conceal information like that in books is one of his finer examples of making friends with others. 

It may be a surprise to learn that the people behind Lake Placid were those responsible for the anaemic Ally McBeal, and whilst there are no diatribes about the fickle nature of relationships or whining about how heartless men are, the scriptwriters evidently could not resist the lure of romance--it is not giving anything away to speak of the thinly detailed lovey dovey stuff that develops between Fonda and Pullman, here playing the nice guy in his trademark gravelly voice. Like Ally McBeal, love's presence is reduced to a few coy looks, head cocked seductively to one side and affection is displayed by witty remarks at the expense of the other character. After all, you always pull the pigtails of the one you love, and who is a girl to choose when she is stuck in the American outback with a depleting number of males and a thirty foot lizard for company? 

If you can swallow the fact that Bridget Fonda is a palentologist - unlike our Friend Ross, she is too attractive for that occupation--and ignore the cliched romance at the center of the movie, then Lake Placid should be a hoot, as long as you do not take it too seriously. Quite how or why the crocodile has swum to its new home is never properly explained--and I must admit some jealousy here as I only managed to gain my 15 metres swimming badge--and it could be said that the movie juggles too many characters within its slim running time. Yet, my main criticism of Lake Placid is that it is not nasty enough--this may sound like a strange request, but like its predecessor Deep Blue Sea, Miner's film isn't as scary as it should be, failing to adequately convey the creature's menace, choosing instead to concentrate on keeping the audience amused, relaxing into their seats rather than on the edge of them. 

While Jaws had its funny scenes--particularly when the men get drunk and show their battle scars--they were working on nervous laughter, the suspicion that something nasty was just about to happen, and something inevitably did. In contrast, Lake Placid contains chase scenes that peter out too quickly, characters who escape a munching when by rights they should be in the creature's belly, more a case of Lake Flaccid, really. 

Sadly, the film gains its certificate by a misplaced use of profanity, confirmation that swearing makes a good exclamation mark but a poor comma. Yet, perhaps I am reading into this too much, because for all intents and purposes Lake Placid is a pleasantly diverting jaunt; though, it is more of a kiddies' ride than one of those big roller--coasters that makes me queasy even to look at them. If you leave your cynicism at home and check your brain in at the door, then it is a fine slice of hokum, albeit one that won't make you too nervous about going back into the water. 

Ross Thompson 4/25/2000