Introduction: When Rats Rule the Quad
If cinema is a buffet, then Food of the Gods II is that suspicious casserole in the corner that you don’t expect to like but, three bites later, you’re grinning like a maniac. A loose sequel to the 1976 film (itself loosely inspired by H.G. Wells), this Canadian gem abandons any pretense of literary respectability and goes all-in on its real theme: rats, everywhere, chewing their way through common sense, academia, and anyone dumb enough to show up for swim practice.
It’s exploitation at its finest, equal parts absurd horror and unintentional comedy, and somehow it all works. The rats are giant, the dialogue is terrible, the acting is gloriously straight-faced, and the gore is sticky enough to glue your attention to the screen. Food of the Gods II is what happens when you give Canadian filmmakers a lab set, a truckload of rodents, and the mandate to make something “like Jaws, but with fur.”
The Premise: Growth Serum, Shrinking IQs
The plot—because apparently someone thought we needed one—centers on Dr. Neil Hamilton (Paul Coufos), a scientist with a jawline sturdy enough to deflect rat bites. Neil’s old mentor, Dr. Kate Travis, has been experimenting on a small boy with a “growth serum.” Instead of becoming tall, polite, and hockey-ready, Bobby grows into a hulking man-child with the temperament of a hangry toddler.
Neil takes the serum back to his university, where his assistant Joshua dutifully injects it into lab rats. Because in the world of 1980s science fiction, testing ethics go: (1) rat, (2) child, (3) shrug. Before long, the rodents become the size of Labradors with appetites to match.
Meanwhile, Professor Delhurst, a man who looks like he was born wearing tweed, is secretly testing the serum on cancer cells and also—because the 1980s were cruel—trying to cure baldness. He gets his karmic payback when the serum turns him into a walking tumor factory, a scene that plays out like David Cronenberg’s The Fly if The Fly had been directed by a drunk prop master.
The Setting: Academia Under Siege
This movie has the audacity to make its primary setting a university campus—because nothing screams horror like midterms. Students are preparing for the grand opening of a shiny new sports complex. Naturally, this is when the rats decide to hold their own mixer, gnawing their way through pipes, janitors, and anyone unlucky enough to wander near.
The dean, played by David B. Nichols, refuses to shut anything down because “funding” and “public image.” He insists on hosting a swim meet, which is essentially a flashing neon sign reading “Fresh Meat Buffet.” Watching the rats tear through synchronized swimmers is both grotesque and glorious, like Jaws but with more spandex.
The Rats: Chewers of Scenery (and Everything Else)
Let’s talk about the real stars: the rats. These aren’t just big; they’re comically oversized, like taxidermy props shoved onto toy cars and wheeled into frame. But the practical effects team commits. There’s blood spraying, fur flying, and enough close-up teeth shots to make a dentist weep.
The rats don’t just bite; they overperform. They chew through exterminators, janitors, and even random security guards with the enthusiasm of union actors getting paid by the kill. One exterminator, Jacques, gets gnawed on but still manages to flamethrower a rodent in a sequence that feels like a Canadian PSA about workplace safety violations.
And when the rats finally storm the sports complex? Cinema peaks. The pool fills with blood, athletes flail like they’re auditioning for Sharknado, and the audience is treated to the greatest aquatic rodent massacre in history.
The Characters: Rats with Better Survival Instincts
Humans in this movie exist solely to:
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Deliver exposition.
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Make terrible decisions.
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Die screaming.
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Dr. Neil Hamilton (Paul Coufos): Our square-jawed hero, whose main superpower is looking serious while surrounded by absurdity.
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Alex Reed (Lisa Schrage): Neil’s girlfriend, who exists to scold him about ethics, scream convincingly, and look great while running from rodents.
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Professor Delhurst (Colin Fox): The smug scientist whose experiments backfire spectacularly. His tumor-splosion death is grotesque, gooey, and somehow still funnier than it should be.
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Dean White (David B. Nichols): A bureaucrat so committed to denial that even when rats are actively munching on people, he still thinks about donor checks. His death in the pool is poetic justice by way of rodent teeth.
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Lieutenant Weizel (Michael Copeman): The token cop who alternates between disbelief and shouting “shoot it!” as though bullets solve everything.
Special mention goes to Bobby, the boy who became a giant tantrum machine. His final rampage makes you wonder if the real horror isn’t rats but puberty gone nuclear.
Special Effects: Gore, Guts, and Goofy Props
What really sells Food of the Gods II isn’t its script (God, no) or its acting (serviceable at best), but its effects. The filmmakers go all-in on practical gore. When rats bite, chunks fly. When tumors grow, they pulse. Blood sprays with the kind of force usually reserved for broken fire hydrants.
And sure, the giant rat props are silly—sometimes you can practically see the wheels beneath them—but the overcommitment turns camp into charm. This is a movie that knows it’s ridiculous and doesn’t care.
Dark Humor Highlights
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Protesters break into a lab to “save animals” and instead unleash murder-rats. Greenpeace this ain’t.
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The dean prioritizes his swim meet over mass rodent homicide. Somewhere, OSHA weeps.
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Delhurst’s death-by-tumor is the best anti-baldness commercial never aired: “Sometimes it’s better to go bald gracefully.”
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The climax involves using Neil’s pet rat Louise, enlarged and in heat, as bait. Yes, the fate of the university hinges on rodent romance.
Legacy: Gnawing Its Way Into Cult Status
Food of the Gods II didn’t make much of a splash (or gnash) upon release, but over the years it’s developed a well-deserved cult following. Why? Because it’s everything you want in late-’80s trash horror: absurd premise, practical gore, terrible dialogue, and a finale that makes you want to stand up and applaud.
It’s exploitation with cheese—lots and lots of cheese. The kind of movie that pairs perfectly with cheap beer and friends who appreciate the finer points of exploding professors and rat attacks during water polo.
Conclusion: Let Them Gnaw Cake
In the grand pantheon of killer animal movies, Food of the Gods II deserves a special shrine. Not because it’s scary (it isn’t) or smart (God, no), but because it’s committed. Every squeak, every gnash, every blood geyser screams: “We may not have the budget, but we have enthusiasm!”
It’s a film that takes a ridiculous idea and plays it straight, creating something both hilariously bad and weirdly brilliant. If H.G. Wells were alive, he might roll in his grave—or he might laugh himself silly.
