Well thanks to The Shallows I now know that breasts are a girl's best weapon against all water-bound maniacal monster predators. Who knew? Well somebody did, lots of people I guess, and now I do too. I'm in on it! Thanks, movie. And it turns out that this is an especially important thing to realize now before it's too late, since it means I'm definitely and definitively screwed if it's ever me against a shark type. Here all these years since Jaws I've been thinking my my gun dick would save me. Chief Brady had it wrong! Spielberg, lying liar!
Should I milk this any further? Do understand that I say all of this with great affection. The Shallows manages to be as tight a thriller as Blake Lively's lycra. It never loses sight of pacing, or of a sense of space and location, or of that bright orange bikini with the little strings. We know where everything is at every moment, from the shore to the dingy to the bazooms. Now that's a master filmmaker at work.