Bat Shit Movie Reviews

As I reluctantly settled into my plush leather seat in the private screening room of a posh Manhattan penthouse, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in anticipation of the cinematic atrocity that lay before me: “Finding Nemo.” The very idea that this fishy fable could be considered anything other than a saccharine, pedestrian piece of pandering to the masses is beyond me. Surrounded by tastefully displayed works of modern art and sipping on a glass of rare vintage wine, I braced myself for an evening of cinematic mediocrity.

First and foremost, let’s address the glaring issue that so many seem to overlook: the premise itself. A clownfish embarking on an epic journey across the ocean to find his lost son? I mean, really? In the real world, such a quest would be nothing short of a suicide mission. The depths of the ocean are treacherous, unforgiving, and filled with dangers that would make any sensible fish think twice before venturing beyond the cozy confines of their anemone. Marlin’s neurotic and irrational behavior throughout the film feels like a contrived attempt to manufacture conflict, rather than a genuinely nuanced exploration of a parent’s love and concern.

And let’s not even start with the anthropomorphic behaviors of these aquatic creatures. The notion that fish can converse, form intricate alliances, and embark on elaborate escapades is nothing short of laughable. Are we to believe that marine life has suddenly evolved into an advanced society of aquatic beings with a sense of humor and an absurdly well-developed sense of camaraderie? The suspension of disbelief required for this film is simply too much for an individual of my refined tastes. The film’s supporting cast of aquatic characters doesn’t fare much better in terms of believability. Take, for instance, the forgetful blue tang fish, Dory. Her incessant short-term memory loss is played for comedic effect, but it quickly grows tiresome and does little to enhance the overall narrative. In reality, a fish with such a severe memory issue would likely struggle to survive, let alone become a comic sidekick. This reliance on shallow comedic tropes further highlights the film’s lack of depth.

Moreover, the film’s portrayal of human intervention and environmental issues is so heavy-handed that it practically slaps the audience in the face with its message. Yes, we get it: pollution is bad, and fish should be protected. But must we be subjected to such a simplistic and patronizing narrative that treats us like children incapable of grasping the complexity of these issues? While the film may have garnered praise for its supposed environmental message, it ultimately falls short of providing any substantive exploration of the complex issues at hand. “Finding Nemo” reduces the challenges of ocean conservation to a simplistic tale of a heroic fish overcoming obstacles to find his son. In the real world, addressing environmental concerns requires nuanced solutions and a deep understanding of the ecological intricacies, not the oversimplified narrative presented in the film.

As for the animation itself, while Pixar is certainly renowned for its technical prowess, “Finding Nemo” lacks the visual sophistication that I demand from my cinematic experiences. The underwater world may be colorful and vibrant, but it pales in comparison to the artistry of more visually striking works of animation, which are far more deserving of my discerning gaze. Lastly, the film’s saccharine ending feels like a forced attempt to wrap everything up neatly, complete with a bow on top. It’s a clichéd conclusion that panders to sentimentality rather than offering a more authentic resolution. I can’t help but long for a film that has the courage to leave some loose ends untied, allowing the audience to grapple with the complexities and uncertainties of life, rather than serving up a tidy, feel-good ending.

“Finding Nemo” is a trite and unrealistic film that panders to the lowest common denominator of moviegoers. Its simplistic story, anthropomorphic aquatic creatures, heavy-handed messaging, and lackluster animation leave me utterly unimpressed. My search for more intellectually stimulating and artistically refined cinematic offerings continues unabated, as I strive to maintain the discerning standards befitting my opulent lifestyle.

I deem this film a stark 1 shit out of 5 — a clownfish couldn’t swim it’s arse backward out of this horrorshow of a film.

Yours truly,

Reginald Kensington

*Reginald Kensington is a world renowned NYC elite and cinephile. We are thrilled that he has joined the BSMR team of reviewers. Learn more about Reginald Kensington here.