THAT (that) wrote,
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SNOWBEAST

When I'm laid up sick, my favorite thing to do is tipple a bit and watch terrible movies. The Internet Archive has never failed me.

Behold: SNOWBEAST! A monster movie almost completely lacking in monsters.  I paid exactly nothing to watch it and I still feel ripped off.

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What you get instead of any kind of SNOWBEAST action is a melodrama about the marital troubles of a washed up Olympic ski champion (who's like 7 feet tall) begging for a job at a lodge run by his wife's former lover, which, if you ask me, is a lot scarier than just a Yeti problem.

Oh, and they're having a Winter Carnival, so Grandma, a real battle axe of a Colorado businesswoman, wants to keep talk of a monster that eats snow bunnies all hush hush. In other words, Jaws in the snow.

SNOWBEAST. It is an avalanche of 70s lameness, an abominabe show, man, that tumbles down the slopes without clearing a single flag. Get on the lift and ride it to the bottom. I dare you.
Tags: terribleness
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