Welcome back. We’ve been here before. The advantage of the derecho of hypesurrounding the Sharknado sequel is the creation of an entire nation of informed consumers. You knew going into this, whether you wanted to or not, that this would be a second two-hour chunk of your life devoted to watching a television movie in which a cadre of solidly recognizable actors battle a waterspout filled with live sharks for reasons known only to a vengeful and slightly immature god. If you’re like us, maybe it took you until the 115-minute mark of the second film to wonder why these folks have been so dead set on fighting the weather rather than bracing for it for two whole movies now. (We will come back to this.) It’s July. It’s perfectly all right to park your brain in a hammock and just water it periodically with Spanish gin and tonics.
(Read the rest at Grantland.)