Orca (1977) isn’t a horror film, strictly speaking. It’s more of a love story, in that it details all the disastrous ways love can rip things from you, leaving you bereft on ice floes both figurative and literal.
It’s also a tale of redemption! –in that it argues there is really no such thing, not when it comes to man’s sins against nature.
It is a horror film if you view it from Bo Derek’s point of view — and only then if we assume Annie was particularly attached to her left leg, lover.
There’s also the small matter of the unintentional orca abortion.
But I absolutely had to share the film with my friend Steven, since I’ve talked it up for the last year or so, ever since we realized we’re both fans of Richard Harris’ musical stylings. Steven agreed with my almost violent assertion that Orca is in no way a knock-off of the Jaws franchise.
And that was my Friday night.
Perhaps the scariest element of Orca is how it’s (wait for it! — because this is a long walk) haunted my dreams ever since I first saw it, Christmas break ’93.
