A few hundred years after nuclear war devastated the earth a biker gang emerges from the safety of underground to once again live on the surface and do biker gang things like sport spiked-leather headbands and collect other various leather accouterments.
Rats is the kind of movie that is amazing for more than one reason. The first being that almost everything is silliness. It’s the kind of glorious nonsense that can only come from the demented minds of insanely genius people. By that I mean Italian horror directors, of course. Other reasons for its bad movie goodness include, but are not limited to: Bucket upon bucket of live rats thrown at and on top of actors, acting that rivals Mentos commercials, hilarious dubbing and an end that must be seen to be believed. The ending is something that M. Night Shyamalan masturbates to with great frequency. I say that with a straight face.
To give a better idea of the level of film we are dealing with let me walk us through the first rat-related death. After finding shelter and eating 200 year-old spaghetti the biker groups sets up for sleepy time. Lucifer, who is by all accounts the angriest man alive, starts banging his girl whilst in a sleeping bag. Others complain because, well, they are boning in the same room as the group. Personally, I’d consider that a free show, but whatever. The humpers decide to go outside, but OH MY GOD, the sleeping bag zipper is stuck and they have to be rescued. This is actually foreshadowing. Robert McKee would be proud. After some more snogging, Lucifer’s girl asks for a break, Lucifer flips out and runs off only to break his neck and get eaten. Meanwhile, his girl gets back into the sleeping bag. Bad move, honey!
That first sleeping bag rat death is rather miraculous in that the rat manages to get inside some lady’s mouth, while she is awake, and snack on her insides, like a vegan on a humus binge, before crawling back out her mouth, in dramatic fashion, before the rest of the bikers. This is actually one of the more plausible deaths in the film. I’d say it’s the 2nd most likely.
There are all sorts of brilliant one-liners like, “I’ll warm their whiskers” which is said by the leather clad leader, who rolls around with a flamethrower (where the hell did he get a working flamethrower?). Other characters include: feisty black woman (aptly named Chocolate), philosophical skin-head, and guy who looks like a Beatle dressed as Robert Lee. There’s also curly-haired American commando and a dumb bitch whose only contribution is to yell about how the rats are going to kill and eat them all. She’s the Italian Debbie Downer if there ever was one. I’d pray for her death before world peace or a tub full of strippers, Jello and KFC.
Did I mention that rats explode out of a guy’s chest? True story, bro.
As the movie hilariously rolls on rats continue to munch on the bikers with amazing frequency. Oddly, not once does it cross their minds that sticking together might be a good idea. There are moments when 4-5 people are off doing their own things in the midst of the major rodent problem. Speaking of things that don’t make sense, the barren and nuclear wasteland that is Earth is only survived by the aforementioned bikers, a couple iguanas, a tarantula and buttload of rats.
About that ending, best to walk into this one blind if possible. It’s one of those things that will be etched into your brain from that moment forward. Consider it life-changing and well above anything the movie had the right to throw at ya.
Rats is absolutely a movie that should be shown at midnight theaters, all-night horror-a-thons and, preferably, at AMCs nationwide starting next week. An entertaining mess of rats, stupidity, Italian-ness, boners and fire.
Rating: 7/10 Rats
Snore Factor: ZZ