It’s Friday, the start of the weekend. Time to get that ass in the sofa, some beers from the fridge, and put the home movie theatre system on. The only problem, as always, is finding something to watch. It’s a good thing the Last Movie Outpost loves you lot, as

We still bloody love The Stath here at Last Movie Outpost. We will even forgive him for Shelter because you can’t proclaim somebody a God of the VHS rental-style mid-budget action thriller and then complain when they do something generic. That would be like holding Raw Deal against Arnie. So

Sea Fever accomplishes little beyond proving The Thing’s stranglehold on infected-people-in-an-isolated-location is so complete that the genre is essentially broken. In this iteration, members of a fishing boat succumb one-by-one to the kiss of a giant jellyfish. That’s figurative. The jellyfish doesn’t really kiss them. This isn’t a Japanese film.

Meatballs was the movie that launched Bill Murray onto the big screen, started his collaborations with Harold Ramis, and first put him together with Ivan Reitman. So it probably deserves a notation of some kind in movie history. It is seen as a bawdy classic in the vein of Animal