There are no winners here. There is only FAIL.
Rodentz tells the charming story of a college professor/researcher and his assistant who accidentally dose up some rats with a variety of enzymes (that’s their explanation, not mine, man) that I believe scientists officially call “some funky shit”. When a mixture of these enzymes is poured down a hazardous waste drain that’s got a busted pipe, the rat the assistant inadvertently let escape noshes on some super stimulating science juice, leading to SUPER ENORMOUS RATS.
I hate psycho-animal movies. They’re lame and very seldom are they entertaining. Most of them share the same plot set up, and very few of them deviate in any sort of interesting fashion from the same old genre drudgery. Rodentz clearly is no exception, but somehow it manages to be worse than the standard.
The problem really isn’t what happens, it’s what doesn’t happen. The movie itself is one long, tedious slog that’s full of made-up nonsense and boring chit-chat from characters who are barely even introduced. When The Assistant’s friends show up to nab him for some fun, they’re instead asked to help him find the escaped rat. While there, they notice other rats missing too. Too bad they’re in the basement, like, totally munching on a drunk janitor and some other unfortunate souls that staggered down there stupidly.
By the way, in the above picture, can you guess who bites the dust first?
The friends kind of mosey on around, searching for rats, finding them, getting nibbled to death…
…before shockingly enough, two make it out alive and we’re treated to this:
I feel it’s my duty to inform you that TARANTULAS ARE COMING FOR YOU!
Anyway, to illustrate my point, this is a bitter pill of a movie to swallow. For example, at one point one of the girls and one of the guys come up with the genius idea to go have sex. They make out and discover they are condom-less. Honestly, these characters are not that smart but it takes them a long ass damn time to make their way to the van – where the guy has the condom – let him dig for it, let the girl hang out randomly by some chain-link fence, cut to a guy inside watching her screaming his head off about a giant rat and so on and so forth. Trust me when I say that three of them could have put their heads together to figure out how to spell ‘prophylactic’ in that time period and actually come up with the correct answer, that’s how long it takes.
Nevermind the actual “horrific” scenes of death, which look like the cinematographer was afflicted with Tourette’s Syndrome and epilepsy simultaneously after snorting the average amount of coke you might have found in the Studio 54 men’s room on a Friday. You can barely tell what’s going on; there’s just some blood, some rats, a person writhing interspersed and flitted through about every second. It’s annoying and irritating and a thoroughly awful way to cover up a non-existent special effects budget.
By the time you finish the movie with the confusing deaths, the dragging plot-lines, the refried storylines, the shitty rats, the way overdone “gotcha” moment at the end and the piss-poor execution of this “movie” in general, one almost feels like calling up the quote from the Great Philosopher Karen Walker:
“Grab a bottle, hunker down and pray for daylight.”