CHUD LIST: BAD FOR US, WORSE FOR THEM – DAY 7

It’s
been a while since the last full team-based CHUD LIST. Too long. With
the goal being to ease back into the swing of things and hopefully get
us on track to a list a month, here’s the latest, BAD FOR US, WORSE FOR
THEM. The concept is simple.

This isn’t a “Best Kills” list.
We’ve done that and done it better than anyone ever could (though we’ll
revisit that at some point to rewrite the history books). This is a
list of forty deaths in cinema, twenty of which that have a profound
affect on the viewer whether by the sheer tragedy of it, how
emotionally impactful it is, or how it is a catalyst for a real descent
in the progression of the story. The other twenty are deaths that go
beyond the call of duty, not because they’re cool or really well
executed FX, but because they are just knee-capping in their immediacy,
brutality, or simple visceral impact. Kills that will probably leave a
mark.

We could have done hundreds of these, but here’s twenty of
each from the CHUD staff, delivered two a day for you until the list is
done. Enjoy!

Day Seven – Reverse Sushi

Bad for Us
Robert Shaw in Jaws (1975)

“Lost that tooth to 007 hisself in a misunderstanding about a lecter.”

He was on the Indianapolis.  If you don’t know what that means, shame on you for not knowing your history…or your classic movies like Jaws [Buy it from CHUD!] at any rate.  He was a salty sea dog of the first order, with a penchant for nails on chalkboards and swimming with bow-legged women.  He hunted and killed sharks for a living. That was his game, but he was far from a modern-day Ahab.  No, this sailor valued his neck…and for a lot more than $3,000.  Which is precisely how he came to find himself out on the briny searching for a shark the size of a giant fake theme park attraction.  He didn’t want any volunteers, didn’t want any mates.  On his vessel, he was mate, master, pilot, captain.  He guaranteed the people of Amity Island the head, the tail, the whole damn thing. 

FAKENESS!

What he got, though, was an up close and personal look at Bruce’s
lifeless, doll’s eyes…right before becoming a hot Quintlunch. 
Nevertheless, perhaps it’s poetic that he went in such a manner.  After
all, he lost almost 800 of his mates in the drink after the Japanese
slammed two torpedoes into the side of the Indy, on her way back from delivering the bomb.  Yeah, the
bomb.  She went down in only 12 minutes and it wasn’t long after that
that the men aboard saw the first tiger shark…a 13-footer.  From there
it was grim history, and the basis for one of the most haunting stories
ever told on film.  No explosions, no car chases, no courtroom
theatrics, just a soliloquy of hopelessness and terror.

So for Quint, who didn’t have long to stew in the belly of the beast before being blowed to bits along with him, it’s farewell and adieu you fair Spanish ladies…

Pain of Death: ROUGHLY HALF MEG-SIZED.
Emotional Loss: HIGH.  He wasn’t wearing no flamin’ life vest though…
Will There Be a Closed Casket Funeral: Burial at sea’s already been handled, thanks.
Insult To Injury: He went down before the ship.

Wes Studi in Deep Rising (1998)

“Can’t you see that I’m Fucks Up Own Suicide?  Can’t you see that I’m afraid of you?”

Hanover’s money was there, so Finnegan didn’t care.  Otherwise, why else would he taxi him and a United Nations of cutthroat mercenaries out into the middle of nowhere to pull the biggest smash and grab job you’ll ever see: knocking off the passengers of a luxury cruise liner and then sinking it with enough torpedoes to take out a damn aircraft carrier?  Unfortunately, a bunch of deep sea monsters with the truly unsexy name of Ottoia (Graboid was already taken, so what are you gonna do?) got there first and turned the entire ship into a sushi bar.  It wasn’t long after that that Hanover and the rest of the survivors discovered that they were on the menu.  And it’s not a quick or easy way to go, because these things grab you, crush you between powerful jaws and then drink and shit you out as human slushiepoo.  Not quite the Sarlacc, but a shitty deal nonetheless.  Just ask Billy here:

Regardless, in some cases, it’s fitting that they would go out in such a manner, because these weren’t exactly nice people.  And Hanover was just as bad as any of them.  To wit: peep his exit from Deep Rising [Buy it from CHUD!].  The only way to slow the Ottoia down was to feed them, so he put a bullet in Pantucci’s leg and made a break for the Lido deck.  But it didn’t matter, because by the time Pantucci caught back up with him, Hanover was on the slow ride to Ottoiarectum.  And rather than literally bite the bullet, Hanover chose trying to put the last one into Pantucci.  The result was nothing left for him to put himself out of his own misery, which, I’m sure, will be considerable. 

What an asshole.

“Wasabi!!”

Pain of Death: HIGH. The Ottoia decided to sip on him rather than chug.
Emotional Loss: ZERO.  Even Pantucci thought he was an asshole.  
Will There Be a Closed Casket Funeral: The crabs might say a few words as they’re snacking on the leftovers.
Insult To Injury: He didn’t make it to the island to see Smokey.

Today’s installment written by David Oliver.

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