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Bats

Bats. Bats! And still more bats!

If Bats were just a little bit tighter, I would champion it as a bad movie masterpiece. Alas, this has more longueurs than you’d expect in a movie about genetically engineered killer bats, i.e., any. The slack pacing gives you time to get bored and, worse, remember that we all only have so much time to live, so why are you spending 91 minutes on Bats? Bicycle Thieves is only 89 minutes.

But I’m using that as the intro to remindmyself of this, because the truth is, I’ve seen Bats more than once. I’ve even seen Bats more than twice. The last half can drag its feet—and bat thumbs—with each scene running a tad too long, and that makes the movie sink like a stone while I’m watching it … but the movie’s cheesy, wholehearted, and gloriously stupid commitment to its bit is what sticks in my mind. Look, I’m writing this to save myself, because a year or two from now, I’ll be in the mood to watch Bats again, and I need to convince myself not to. It’s only worth watching once.

But if you have any affection for over-the-top creature features, sci-fi horror B-movie nuttiness, and mutant bat puppets, then you do need to watch it once.

Dina Meyer stars as bat expert Sheila, who, along with her assistant Jimmy (Leon), gets called out to a small Texas town with a major bat problem. See, the sinister Dr. McCabe (Bob Gunton, correctly arranging himself in every shot like it’s a comic book panel) has deliberately set some bats to EVIL, and now they’ve escaped and are enlisting local bat populations to their bat cause. The bats are now a combination of a slasher villain (their first targets are some necking teenagers) and a natural disaster, much to the dismay of amiable Sheriff Emmett Kimsey (Lou Diamond Phillips).

At its best and battiest, Bats is an exuberant, ridiculous cartoon. Why has Dr. McCabe made these bats intelligent, bloodthirsty, super-strong omnivores filled with incalculable rage?: “I’m a scientist. That’s what we do.”

Bats, like its mad scientist, goes all in. All the evil bats look like if deranged French bulldogs became bodybuilders. They have—as my wife exclaimed with delight—CHUD eyes. They squirm into cars through tailpipes and air conditioning vents, and one of them gets a cigarette lighter to the face for its trouble. They kill one of their own when it’s forcibly enlisted as a snitch. A bat stalks across a diner counter, practically slavering with glee. People fall chest-deep into lakes of guano. Bats! Bats! It’s hard to have more fun at the movies than watching these ridiculously beefy bats eviscerate a one-stoplight downtown. And while I groan at the movie theater playing Nosferatu, I’m not above laughing at it, too.

The human characters are, alas, not as well-crafted as the bat puppets. They’re more like the background bats in the scene where the bats besiege a local school, by which I mean, “I’m pretty sure these are crepe paper cut-outs you bought at Party City.” Gunton is the only one who goes full pulp—to be fair, he’s the only one who has the dialogue for it—and the rest of the actors have to shuffle along with pasted-on character details like “I’m a small town Texas sheriff who likes opera!” and heartwarming moments like “I’ll give my treasured bat medallion to this CDC guy who was killed by bats, that’s a coherent gesture. He must have loved bats! Especially the ones that murdered him!” And while movies like this don’t really need or benefit from romance subplots, it’s frustrating to suspect that Sheila and Jimmy’s big tender moment would go in that direction … if Jimmy weren’t Black. (At least he gets to live.)

In short, this movie is a mess, and obviously it has nothing to do with real bats (I’m very fond of real bats and will therefore not miss an opportunity to praise Bat World Sanctuary) or real people. But if you want bat puppet carnage and occasional decent set-pieces, this is, again, well-worth watching once, if only so you can quote Gunton’s “I’m a scientist” line as often as I do.

And if you really have the constitution for it, you can drink every time anyone says “bats.” But neither I nor Media Magpies will take legal or moral responsibility for that, as it’s probably not survivable.

Bats is streaming on Amazon Prime and Tubi.

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