Yuck. Yeecccch. Yikes. Yooowwww. Is there any other reaction to the subject of rats? Morgan Spurlock’s documentary about the horrible critters pretty much sticks to this basic response. I kept waiting for him to tell us that the rat issue is getting worse, that they are getting bigger, nastier or more numerous, or, alternatively, that our rat fear is an irrational sociocultural construct. But no. It’s just about rats. Rats all over the world.
They are perceived in differing ways, but this is not considered that deeply. In Rajasthan, there are holy “kabbas” rats in the Karni Mata temple. In south-east Asia, people cook and eat them: “It tastes like chicken, but sweeter.” In New York, Spurlock interviews a tough-looking guy smoking a cigar in a basement who is a professional rat-catcher. The film keeps returning to him, for no real reason. And Spurlock keeps whacking in these silly, horror-type jump scares and soundtrack stabs as the rats shove their great whiskery snouts at the camera.
I’ve seen this film described as a “horror doc”, but is that actually a thing? Spurlock never seriously addresses the subject of whether the rat population is escalating with the human population, or if the disease risk is climbing as well. Perhaps he could have redeemed his film’s pointlessness with a discussion of The Stranglers’ album Rattus Norvegicus.
