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ATTACK OF THE CRAB MONSTERS (1957) |
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"Once they were men – now they’re land crabs!" | |
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Director: Roger Corman Starring: Richard Garland, Pamela Duncan, Russell Johnson, Lesley Bradley, Mel Welles, Richard Cutting, Beach Dickerson, Tony Miller, Ed Nelson, Charles B. Griffith Screenplay: Charles B. Griffith |
Synopsis:
A team of scientists and a
supporting naval crew land upon a small Pacific island, from which a
previous team of scientists disappeared while investigating the effects
of a recent nuclear test, which threw a blanket of fall-out across the
island. As the scientists look around, they are unnerved by a sense of
foreboding, as if the island did not want them there; Lieutenant Quinlan
(Ed Nelson) agrees, saying that he felt the same way upon his earlier
visit. As the scientists walk up to the house which is to be their
headquarters, Quinlan’s attention is then caught by the blundering of
his crew of seamen, one of whom is tilted out of their small boat and
into the water near the shore. The irritated Quinlan shouts at the
others to pull him back in, which they do – only to cry out in horror
when they discover that his head is missing.... Having broken the grim
news to the scientists, Quinlan reassures them that if they run into any
trouble, they can radio the base for assistance – as long as the weather
permits. As Quinlan prepares to leave, Karl Wiegand (Leslie Bradley), a
nuclear physicist, questions him again about the disappearance of the
first team of scientists. Quinlan reiterates that no trace of them was
found, except the journal of the team leader, MacLean, adding that the
navy’s theory is that they were at sea in their small boat when the
recent typhoon hit. Radio operator Hank Chapman (Russell Johnson) is
walking back to the beach with some of the seamen when they hear what
sounds like a series of explosions on another part of the island.
Moments later, the island shakes as if hit by an earthquake. Quinlan and
one of the seamen take their boat out to their seaplane, shouting back
that they will return in a month if not summoned earlier. The scientists
watch the takeoff from a cliff overhanging the beach, recoiling in shock
as the small plane explodes.... That night, a violent electrical storm
sweeps across the island. Hank tries the radio, but there is too much
interference for them to make outside contact. Biologist Dale Drewer
(Richard Garland) suggests that they leave Hank to persist with the
radio, while the rest of them get on with their own work. In the
living-room, Dr Wiegand reads aloud the journal of his predecessor,
MacLean, whose notes record any number of strange biological phenomena,
but give no hint to his fate – except for the abrupt way the entries
break off. Suddenly, there is again the sound of explosions, and the
house is shaken as if by an earthquake. Late that night, after the
others have gone to bed, Wiegand and Drewer discuss MacLean’s journal.
Drewer comments that he has seen no insect life since arriving. The next
morning, marine biologist Dr Martha Hunter (Pamela Duncan) dives in the
bay, collecting specimens; Drewer joins her. Back on shore, Martha
remarks that while underwater, she was using a particular rock as a
landmark, and yet suddenly it was gone. From the cliff, Dr James Carson
(Richard Cutting), a geologist, shouts for the biologists to meet
Wiegand and himself at the top of the path. When they get there, they
find that an entire section of land has simply fallen away, leaving a
sheer drop below. Carson wants to investigate, but Wiegand argues that
the chance of a second cave-in is too great. Carson agrees –
if it was a cave-in. As he
speaks, he hands Drewer a piece of rock that is entirely glazed, as if
by great heat. That night, Martha is woken by a voice calling to her. It
is MacLean’s voice, begging for her help. Dressing hurriedly, Martha
follows the voice outside and into the surrounding jungle. Suddenly, she
encounters Carson, who comments that
she must have heard it, too.
Carson assumes that MacLean must still be alive, but a nervous Martha
insists that he is dead, and that someone is imitating his voice. The
two continue their search until, over Martha’s objections, Carson
decides to investigate the land-drop. But even as Carson is lowering
himself on a rope, there is the sound of an explosion and the earth
begins to shake. Martha is knocked to the ground and hits her head,
losing consciousness; while from Carson there is a despairing scream.... Comments: Watching the early films produced and directed by Roger Corman more or less in order is an amazingly informative experience. The ferocious activity of those years and the rapid pace at which Corman worked necessarily compressed his professional development to the point where it is an almost tangible thing: you can actually see him improving as a director from film to film – and likewise, you can see exactly where Corman the producer is going to become a millstone around the neck of Corman the director.
Although the early films are not entirely without their virtues, it is perhaps best to think of them as “a learning experience”; but it took only two years for Corman to begin to hit his stride. To me, It Conquered The World is the first “real” Roger Corman film, given its combination of a talented and committed cast, a clever screenplay, more ideas than many science fiction films with twenty times the budget, amusingly cheap production values, and a ludicrous monster that almost scuppers everything that the film has achieved up to the point of its appearance. Not Of This
Earth is a better film, however, and probably the best of this phase
of Corman’s career; while the most financially successful (and therefore
the one closest to its producer/director’s heart) was
Attack Of The Crab Monsters.
The film suffers somewhat from a cast that is neither as talented nor as
likeable as those of its companion-pieces, but this is more than
compensated for by the bizarreness of the plot. And, hey! – crab
monsters! Some of my considerable affection for
Attack Of The Crab Monsters
stems from the circumstances under which I first saw it, at the old and,
alas, no longer extant revival theatre where I spent a frightening
number of Friday and Saturday nights some twenty years ago. Aside from
that mere fact, Attack Of The
Crab Monsters also suffered the indignity of being shown with its
reels out of order: not an uncommon event.
My version of the film opened
rather bewilderingly with Martha Hunter and James Carson wandering
through the jungle searching for the missing-presumed-dead MacLean.
However, some puzzled exclamations from the small audience, an abrupt
jump in the picture, a blank screen, the lights up, the sound of frantic
activity in the projection-booth and the lights down later, and
normality had been resumed. “Normality”, in this case, involves something that
was becoming a signature in Corman’s films at this time, the opening
credits running over a series of gorgeous abstract drawings. In this
case, the desert scenes of
The Beast With A Million Eyes have been replaced by sea-scapes;
although eyes are again prominent in the design. I have no idea who was
responsible for these – anyone?
The best thing about
Attack Of The Crab Monsters
– apart from its titular entities, which are, yup, ludicrous (if, like
Beulah, adorably so) – is the amount of action it manages to cram into
its sixty-two minute running-time. The film is almost entirely free of
both unnecessary talking and pointless wandering around; and even the
scuba-diving scenes are painless. This film is also, for the time of its
production, astonishingly gruesome, not only offing the majority of its
cast like a proto-slasher movie, but including in its opening sequence
the fairly graphic, albeit bloodless, aftermath of a decapitation. I bet
that got their attention at
the drive-in. The film proper, like Day The World Ended, opens with a biblical voiceover (this time from an uncredited Skip Homeier), which was a standard manoeuvre in nuke-horror films at the time – scolding Man for tampering in His domain, while simultaneously reassuring people that the Big Guy was still in control. Unlike Day The World Ended, however, here the voiceover is no more than a token gesture, although one that catches God in a pretty grumpy mood. “And the Lord said, ‘I will destroy Man, whom I have created, from the face of the earth; both Man and beast and the creeping thing and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth Me that I have created them’.” Yeah, well, to be honest, I always thought that whole
“Man” and “Woman” thing was a big mistake, and that the world would have
been a much nicer place if the creating had stopped a little earlier; so
I’m not surprised to find God having second thoughts on the subject;
although I don’t know why He should repenteth the rest of it. Especially
the creeping thing. Two loaded boats head for the shore of a small
island. One disperses both scientists and naval personnel. The former
are led by Dr Karl Wiegand, a German – or ex-German – nuclear physicist;
his team consists of Jules Deveroux, a French botanist, and three
Americans, the geologist James Carson and the biologists Dale Drewer and
Martha Hunter – the latter of whom introduces herself with a cheerful,
“Just call me Marty!”, in a nice, unforced evocation of the Androgynous
Name Rule. The scientists are on the island for two reasons: first,
because it caught a large amount of fall-out from a recent nuclear test,
and “the authorities” want to know what effect it might have had; and
second, because the first team of scientists sent in to investigate
vanished without trace. The theory is that they were out in their boat
when a typhoon struck, but no-one’s very satisfied with that explanation
– and they become less so when they find the journal of the previous
team’s leader, Orville MacLean, which breaks off in the middle of an
entry.
The others to land are Lieutenant Quinlan, who led
the navy’s search for the missing scientists, his squad of seamen, two
of whom are assigned to the island to handle demolition, should it be
necessary, and the radio-operator, Hank Chapman. Hank is something of an
outsider in the team, neither fish nor fowl. When one of the seamen
calls him a scientist, he denies it in a way that simultaneously sets
him up as the working-class-joe identification figure while letting us
know he has a slight chip on his shoulder. We are not particularly
surprised when a love triangle later forms, with Marty caught between
egghead Dale and two-fisted Hank. While the scientists walk up towards the house that
will be their base, Quinlan sees to his exasperation that the second
boatload of naval men has somehow gotten itself into trouble only a few
yards from shore. One of the men is tipped out into what proves to be
surprisingly deep water. As he slides through the water, something stirs
below him, and opens one enormous eye....
Attack Of The Crab Monsters
does a much better job than most of its brethren in disguising the
shortcomings of its monsters, which rarely appear
in the film with the
embarrassing clarity displayed in the infamous stills
from the film. Instead, they
are chiefly conveyed through glimpses of body parts. This sequence is a
good example, wherein the opening of the eye is followed by the briefest
of shots of a whole crab. The focus then shifts back to the unfortunate
Seaman Tate (played by Charles Griffith), who screams in terror and
tries to get away. But when his crewmates finally pull him up out of the
water, well.... Inside the house, the scientists – and Hank – are
setting up shop. We hear that “the navy boys really fixed this place up”
after the typhoon, and indeed they did. I particularly like the frilly
curtains, and the tacky table-lamp. By the time we get there, the
scientists already have the essentials in place: on a bench-top sits a
microscope, a beaker, a rack of test tubes, and a flask filled with a
Mysterious Coloured Fluid. SCIENCE!!
Everyone then troops down to watch Quinlan and Seaman
Mac, who are leaving, take off in their seaplane. On the way, however,
there is a strange, booming sound, like explosions on the far side of
the island, and the next moment the island itself shakes violently.
No-one is hurt, but Hank and the three seamen narrowly escape being
caught in a rockslide. Quinlan and Mac head off, while the others watch
from the cliff-top. However, the smiling and waving stops abruptly when
the plane goes up in an impressive flash of light. Wiegand orders Hank to the radio, to report the
tragedy – and, presumably, the
earlier tragedy – but before he can contact anyone, the violent
electrical storm that has been threatening breaks. The scientists begin
their reading of MacLean’s journal, and we hear of the discovery of a
strange piece of flesh, which seemed to be worm-like in character, but
if so, must have come from a worm some five feet in length, judging by
the dimensions of the sample. Astonishingly, the flesh proved impossible
to cut, with the scalpel passing right through it as it healed itself.
The reading is then interrupted by more of the booming noises, and
another mini-earthquake. Later, after the others have gone to bed, Drewer and
Wiegand discuss the significance of the abrupt breaking-off of MacLean’s
journal. They are interrupted by a tapping sound from outside, which to
their relief proves to be caused by nothing more than a branch and the
wind...except that, once the relieved men have turned their backs, the
noise persists after the branch has stopped moving.... The next morning, Marty goes diving, and is unexpectedly joined by Drewer. These scenes were obviously filmed in an aquarium – Marineland of the Pacific, to be exact, the forerunner of SeaWorld, which at the time did indeed have a “swim-through” tank in which visitors could dive, which has the effect of putting Pamela Duncan and Richard Garland in shot with some very nice underwater life, including a couple of gorgeous manta rays. (Charles Griffith filmed these scenes in his capacity as second unit director, thus picking up his third pay-cheque on the production....perhaps.)
The lunch team. Back on shore, Marty scolds Drewer for startling her,
also commenting that she had been using a big black rock as a landmark,
only to have it seemingly disappear. As the two strip off their gear –
their diving-gear – Drewer
looks around and comments disgustedly, “Land crabs and seagulls---
Everything else is dead!” Sooo.... Marine life doesn’t
count, then, Mr Biologist? Or is that just for
girls? Truthfully, Dale Drewer is a bit of a jerk – or maybe
I just don’t like the tone he uses when he calls Marty “honey”, which he
does a lot. This is a very lightly sketched yet convincingly
habitual relationship, the
kind of which one party to it (oh, let’s face it, Marty) might say
unenthusiastically, “I suppose we’ll get married some day....” So it
isn’t surprising that Marty starts showing an interest in Hank. Problem
is, Hank is a bit of a jerk, too – or maybe I just don’t care for his
sneery attitude towards the “eggheads”. There’s no pleasing some people, is there? Carson and Wiegand call Drewer and Marty up onto the
cliff where they and the two seamen gape down at the result of a sudden
land-fall. (And yet again, our surroundings are played by Bronson
Canyon.) Marty says in a stunned way that she walked that way before her
dive, and Wiegand agrees that the pit wasn’t there only twenty minutes
earlier. Carson wants to investigate, but Wiegand forbids him. That night, Marty is woken by what she recognises as
Orville MacLean’s voice, which calls her by name, begging for her help.
She follows it into the densely vegetated area around the house, gasping
in shock as she runs into Carson. (Reel change! Reel change!) Carson
remarks that he, too, was called by name, which puzzles Marty, who only
heard her own name. Carson believes that MacLean must still be alive,
and that somehow the navy missed him in their search, but a nervous
Marty insists that he is dead, and that for some reason, someone is
imitating his voice. The two end up back at the pit, and Carson insists
on climbing down. However, another mini-quake knocks Marty to the
ground, while from the pit comes a despairing scream.... Some time afterwards, presumably having missed their companions, the others come searching. A dazed Marty comes around, sobbing over Carson’s fate. Wiegand shouts down into the pit, and Carson’s voice shouts back that he has broken his leg.
"Land crabs and seagulls--- Everything else is dead!" Drewer takes Marty back to the house. Wiegand insists
that the bottom of the pit can be accessed via a series of caves, and
that he, Deveroux and Hank should go that way to look for Carson. On the
way, they run into the two seamen, Fellowes and Sommers, who report that
another land-fall almost took their tent and themselves with it.
The search party runs across the beach to the opening
of the caves, and even though the situation
should be one of desperate
urgency, Hank stops to throw a rock at one of the many land crabs
sitting on the beach. He misses, because Wiegand knocks his arm, leading
to the following exchange: Wiegand: “I just don’t like to kill anything, even creatures as ugly as these.” Deveroux: “Poor helpless things!” Fellowes: “Helpless, nothing! Did you ever see a bunch of those things start on a wounded marine? They finish him off in five minutes!” Heavens, I hardly
know where to start with this. Hank, as I said, is a jerk. Don’t you
love the implication that it’s okay to kill something you find ugly? –
which, by the way, I’m not sure is a philosophy that
this crowd ought to be
propagating, if they know what’s good for them. Deveroux here becomes
instantly my hero. (Mel Welles is
verra verra Fronnch in this film, but thankfully the script refrains
from stooping to any of the standard slurs.) As for the rest--- It might seem kind of silly today, the way that the
camera dwells on perfectly ordinary crabs, not just as foreshadowing,
but as if they were monsters in their own right. But Fellowes has a
point. During WWII, land crabs became many a serviceman’s worst
nightmare, not just because they’re scavengers and, well, likes Fellowes
says, but because of their other nasty habit of massing together and
then rustling through the bushes that might also conceal an enemy. While
today we may see nothing more here than an innocuous crustacean (aww....crabby!),
in 1957 there were probably quite a number of people who found these
shots unnerving.
Fellowes’ remarks remind Our Heroes that they should
probably be rescuing their injured colleague, instead of standing around
and flapping their jaws. Down in the caves, Wiegand and the others hear
Carson’s voice ahead of them, calling that he has broken his leg, but
when they reach the point where the cave joins the pit there is no sign
of him – just some blood on the sand.... Wiegand, whose mysterious
behaviour is puzzling and annoying the others, insists upon them going
back via Carson’s rope, but won’t say why. Various protests are lodged,
but Wiegand responds to all of them with, “Up the rope! Up the rope!”
Apparently, before becoming a nuclear physicist, Wiegand was a gym
teacher. At the house, Marty is re-reading those sections of
MacLean’s journal dealing with the sudden appearance of the caves when
that tapping noise starts again. It is followed by more ominous noises
from inside the house. Drewer
arms himself and steps into the next room to investigate, closing the
door behind himself to protect Marty – and then wishes he hadn’t. A huge
claw swings through the air at him, knocking the gun from his hand, and
prompting Drewer to exit the room with more haste than dignity.
Bizarrely, the film then acts as if Drewer couldn’t
see what attacked him, and
continues to make a mystery out of the nature of the scientists’
adversaries. When the ominous noises stop, it is discovered that
the power is out. Marty lights a lamp, and she and Drewer inspect the
damage. They find that – surprise! – the radio has been wrecked, but in
a very particular way: the wiring and the tubes have been removed and
cut up. There is also a gaping hole in the side of the house. Later, Hank examines the wreckage, muttering that if
they want a radio, he’ll have to build a new one from scratch. Drewer
wonders why “it” – whatever “it” is – didn’t keep on coming and get him
and Marty, and Wiegand speculates that electricity somehow contains it,
hence the attack on the power system. (I love the way that Wiegand
fondles a microscope all through this conversation – SCIENCE!!) Marty,
who has been gazing thoughtfully out of the hole in the wall, then
points out that where there was a mountain yesterday, there is no
mountain today....
Actually – from an historical
perspective, I find all this very interesting.
Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte
is usually tagged as the first mainstream movie to include this kind of
graphic body-horror, but that was five years after
Attack Of The Crab Monsters.
I suppose the issue here is that
Charlotte is a big-budgeted, star-heavy, studio production, and the
other mere drive-in fodder: the dismemberment, while no more explicit,
is more shocking in that context. I do find it suggestive, though, that
Charlotte features exactly
the same shock moments as the earlier film – that is, a decapitation and
a hand-severing. How I would love to think that Robert Aldrich and Henry
Farrell were inspired by Attack
Of The Crab Monsters! After a moment of stunned horror, the others spring
into action: Wiegand binds the wound, while Marty uses her belt as a
tourniquet. (No shrieking, no fainting--- Attagirl!) Fellowes and
Sommers then run in, reporting that huge chunks of the island are
dropping into the sea. They also comment that they knew where to find
the scientists because they heard them calling. After a startled
exchange of looks, the others ask
whose voice they heard, and are told that it was Carson’s. The
scientists are relieved to learn that he is still alive, but make
Deveroux their immediate priority. At their tent, Fellowes and Sommers are playing poker
– using sticks of dynamite for chips – when there is a strange tapping
noise from outside. Sommers picks up their lamp and goes outside to
investigate – and wishes he hadn’t.... You know, call me mean-spirited, but one of the main
reasons I find Roger Corman’s films from this era so enjoyable is his
willingness – even eagerness – to off the Odious Comic Relief. In fact,
by this stage it was almost a motif. Think about it: Chester Conklin in
The Beast With A Million Eyes,
Raymond Hatton in Day The World
Ended, Beach Dickerson and Tony Miller here--- The only time it
didn’t necessarily happen was when the OCR was played by Jonathan Haze
and/or Dick Miller – and even
that wasn’t always enough to save it. Alas, alas! – that generations
of film-makers to follow failed to learn from The Master’s example!
And yeah, I know Deveroux
wasn’t quite himself, but – I’m not sure the morphine accounts for that
thing being able to sneak up on
him. Deveroux’s screams wake the others. They gather in
the living-room, and rather oddly, instead of looking in his room, they
call to him. Deveroux’s voice replies that everything is all right, that
the pain has gone.... Wiegand mutters for the others to keep him
talking, which they do – even as they are finding his bed empty....
Wiegand continues to chat with the disembodied voice, but suddenly
grasps the metal candle-holder sitting on Deveroux’s bedside-table. In an instant, Deveroux’s voice changes tone.
“Congratulations,” it concedes. Wiegand demands to know where Deveroux
is, but gets the uncomforting
reply that he is, “Where you all soon shall be.
Bon soir.” When Wiegand tells the others that Deveroux is dead,
there is some muttering about ghost stories. “No, I do not believe in
ghosts,” replies Wiegand quietly. No,
you believe in giant mutated
land crabs that can eat people’s brains and absorb their knowledge and
personality and gain the ability to speak in their voice – which is
so much easier. Feh! That’s
scientists for you! The next morning, the survivors find Fellowes and
Sommers’ smashed tent. Their bodies are nowhere to be seen, and most of
their dynamite is missing – dum, dum,
dumm. The four collect what’s
left, and then pass the day somehow, spending the evening waiting for
Deveroux to speak to them, as he promised he would. Hank cleans his
hand-gun, placing it on the table – and the next moment, Deveroux
does speak, apparently
through the gun. (I may say that although the script of
Attack Of The Crab Monsters
is reasonably sensible up to this point, from here the
Immortal Dialogue comes
thick and fast.) The voice first explains that all metal objects
function as a kind of receiver for it. It then asserts that, “Something
remarkable has happened to me”, and invites the others to the caves to
see what that is. Drewer asks after Carson, and Carson’s voice replies
that he is there too. And so they do head for the caves – or the
men do: Marty is left alone
at the house, which hardly seems sensible. The three make their way to
the site of Carson’s presumed death, Hank carrying “the equipment” that
was mentioned in passing, and they hear an ominous tapping noise....and
then a roar---
I’ll say this for the crabs: they’re a lot more
effective than the monster suit in
Day The World Ended, and
less silly than Beulah in It
Conquered The World For one thing, they’re bigger than the leading
lady! The restricted views of them here are actually quite cleverly
done, disguising the worst of their shortcomings, such as their
essential immobility. The real issue, though, are their
faces – particularly the
eyelids. I think it’s
supposed to tie in with the whole “eat a human, become a human” thing,
but not only does it look intensely silly, the actual alien quality of
crustacean eyes and mouths would have made the crabs a whole lot
scarier. Still, as I say, some skilful editing makes these
scenes pretty tense and exciting. Drewer is knocked down by a stray
claw. Hank lobs hand-grenades (in a
cave??), and Wiegand fires a
gun, but they do no damage to the crab. However, one of the grenades
dislodges a section of the cave’s roof – yeah, you’d
think – and a stalactite-like
chunk of rock plunges down, impaling the crab in what we assume is its
brain. The men approach with caution, speculating over why this killed the crab while the bullets and grenades did nothing. As Wiegand takes photographs, he reminds the others of the story of the uncuttable worm-flesh, and worries that although the damage to its motor area has stopped the crab, if they were to remove the stalactite, it might come back to life. They decide to bury it, but first remove one of its claws as a specimen. Hank goes to get some dynamite, while Wiegand and
Drewer examine the crab. Drewer observes that it does appear to be an
ordinary land crab, while Wiegand points out that it is a male. And at
that moment, a second crab charges into the cave, roaring and waving its
claws. Well, you know what they say: hell hath no fury like
a female mutated land crab widowed. Wiegand orders Hank to set off the dynamite, quickly
snapping another photograph before the three men run away. The dynamite
goes off, but even as the blast recedes, Deveroux’s voice reflects that
the men have killed MacLean and all of his party, and tried to kill
him....a very big mistake....
At the house, Wiegand examines a sample of the crab’s flesh, commenting, “The molecular structure of this crab is entirely disrupted! There is no cohesion between the atoms!” I’m not quite sure why Wiegand, a nuclear physicist, is doing this work rather than one or both of the biologists, particularly since it turns out that he thinks you can see atoms under the microscope. However, perhaps the real issue here is Wiegand’s
talent for analogy. He first compares the crab’s flesh to electricity,
only with a flow of atoms rather than electrons; then he compares it to
a liquid, taking the shape of whatever contains it. Finally, he
theorises that when the crabs absorb food, they absorb it completely,
turning it into matter like themselves – and that since the brain is
basically a storage unit for electrical impulses, the minds of their
victims are absorbed and assimilated wholesale, including the memories. I’m impressed. Rarely have I heard so much utter
nonsense in so few sentences....yet I have to admit, in context, it’s
amusingly convincing
nonsense. Marty then wonders why, if they have been absorbed
intact, Jules and the others have turned against them. Drewer has an
answer for that: preservation of the species. “Once they were men,” he
intones solemnly, “now they
are land crabs!” I couldn’t tell you how much I admire the cast for
getting through all this with a straight face. I can’t imagine Corman
allowed them too many takes, either. Hank wants to know how the crabs are blowing up the
island. Wiegand speculates that the crabs are able to generate arcs of
great heat from within their own bodies, reminding the others of the
glazed appearance of the rocks near the pit. Marty, who has been looking
through Wiegand’s photographs, then interrupts with some alarming news:
the second crab, the female, is pregnant. Of course, she doesn’t
say “pregnant”. Instead she
explains that they’re, “About to have a blessed event” and that the crab
is, “In a very delicate condition.” It’s hard being a female scientist. As Wiegand stares at the photograph, we are also
given a close-up of it – and thus catch a glorious, unforgettable
glimpse of Beach Dickerson’s feet – or is it Ed Nelson’s? – sticking out
from within the carapace.
You know....you can go out there and spend hundreds
of millions of dollars on big-name stars and action sequences and
special effects and 3D....but I guarantee you won’t entertain me
one-tenth as much as Roger Corman just accidentally did. Hank immediately exclaims that they have to kill the
crab. Wiegand begins to utter an objection, and interestingly enough, it
is Marty who exclaims, “You’re not going to suggest that we should save
it for science!” Wiegand reassures the others that, no, that’s not what
he meant: “I have no ambition toward becoming a mad scientist!” Well, excu-uu-uu-use
me! And then Wiegand goes on to say that he does want to take the crab alive, so that it can be studied. Eh? Hank, meanwhile, has remembered that remark of Wiegand’s about the crabs being afraid of electricity. Carrying the claw to a bench, he attaches two electrodes to a battery, and then touches the claw – which is immediately reduced to ashes. Hank sets to work devising an electrical trap (hmm,
someone’s been watching
The Thing), which they
arrange in the cave. Wiegand tests it, exulting that the charge should
be strong enough to stun the crab, so that they can remove its claws and
cage it – aw, ow! – but not
strong enough to kill it. Now, all they have to do is figure out how to
get the crab to walk into the trap. Crabs being smarter than James
Arness, you understand. (Annoyingly, having just discovered that the
remaining crab is female, all throughout this sequence Wiegand refers to
it as “he”. [Shades of
Jurassic
Park – or vice-versa.]) The changes to the island have left the lower entrances to the caves underwater, so the team splits up. Marty and Hank are to climb down into the pit and place the trap where they want it, then escape via the water, while Wiegand and Drewer are to act as bait, to lead the crab down to where they want it. Encouragingly, not only do they not try to keep Marty out of it, no-one offers to help her with the climb down the rope, either.
In the wake of a bitter argument over melted butter versus rémoulade, Hank took his claw and went home. On the other hand, Marty thinks this might be a good
opportunity to follow up on those thoughtful looks she and Hank have
been exchanging from time to time. Fortunately, before things can get
mushy, there’s a noise from nearby. Marty and Hank tip-toe down the
passageway, and find the crab asleep in an alcove....and I can only
assume that the noise is supposed to be its
snoring. Hank decides he’d
going to try and remove a claw. However, as he creeps up with his knife
drawn, the crab opens a single eye.... (We are given
far too good a look at the plastic eyelids here.) As Hank severs one claw, the other knocks the knife
from Hank’s hand. He and Marty take to their heels, the crab in pursuit.
Wiegand and Drewer see them as they scoot across the tiny beach and
plunge into the water, and circle around above them to where they
calculate they will emerge again. They guess right, which is just as
well: even as Marty and Hank catch their breaths, the pursuing crab
scrambles up over the rocks nearby. Drewer fires a rifle at it, which
doesn’t do much to the crab, but does alert the others to its proximity.
As they scramble up the slope to safety, the crab, speaking in Carson’s
voice, jeers that it can grow
another claw – can they grow
another life? Subsequently, the quakes and rock-falls become more
frequent, and more violent. As Hank completes his rebuilding of the
radio, Wiegand and Drewer inspect the landscape, recognising grimly that
before much longer, there won’t be any island left. And where’s Marty? –
you might ask. Oh, she’s preparing a meal. Because, you know,
girl.... Marty and Hank start
swapping histories, until Marty is compelled to explain that she and
Drewer have been together since college and that, “As soon as his
promotion comes through, we’re making it a lifetime partnership.” His
promotion? Meanwhile, Wiegand and Drewer have discovered oil.
No, really. Two separate streams are oozing their way across what’s left
of the island, and an excited Wiegand insists they split up and each
follow one. And yes, I know that to some, oil is all-enthralling; but is
this really the time – ? It is? Okay then.
Nuclear physicists, on the other hand, are not smarter than James Arness. The exploration leads the two scientists into two
different cave entrances. Drewer soon encounters the crab, but its back
is turned and he manages to hide. Recognising that Wiegand will be in
its path, Drewer runs outside, meaning to circle around and warn him. He
runs into Marty and Hank, to whom he explains. He then hurries off with
Hank, tossing a, “Stay here, Marty!” over his shoulder. Marty baulks for
a moment, then follows anyway. Meanwhile, Wiegand has found the abandoned electrical
trap, and starts setting it up. He’s so intent on the job that the crab
is almost on top of him before he notices it. Jumping to his feet, he
turns and runs – straight into the electrical trap.
Ouch. And as he lies there
incapacitated, but fully conscious, the crab moves in.... Serves you right, you oil-obsessed jerk. The other three arrive just in time to get a good
eyeful, and then turn and run out again. Halfway along, Drewer pulls up,
telling Hank to take Marty out while he goes back to light up the oil.
Hank obeys with alacrity, and there is just a moment here as Drewer is
staring after them when he’s obviously thinking,
Hey, I’ve got a better idea, how
about I take Marty out and you light the oil? – but
they’re gone before he can even finish the thought. Anyway, he ignites
his lighter and tosses it back into the cave, sprinting away from the
resultant blast. However, catching up with the others, he remarks that
he’s only slowed the crab down, not killed it. Hank replies that at
least they now have the chance to send another SOS. But even as he does so, Deveroux’s voice speaks
mockingly via the radio-set, telling them that long before help can
arrive, they will be a part
of him – and there won’t be
any island left. On cue, another violent quake hits. The three
survivors flee the house, and just in time: a torrent of water pours
across the sinking island, sweeping the structure away. Marty, Hank and Drewer scramble to higher ground, up
to what used to be, at least, the highest point on the island, where the
transmission tower sits, a maintenance kit beside it. Hank and Drewer
reflect that they have that and their remaining grenades with which to
fight back. Suddenly, Marty shrieks: the crab is climbing up after them.
The three take cover, and the menfolk start lobbing grenades and firing guns. “Foolish – very foolish!” mocks crab-Deveroux, and it’s hard to disagree. Hank goes charging towards the creature, meaning to try what a grenade at close quarters will do, but the crab knocks him over so that he is partially caught in the blast. Clutching his injured leg, Hank drags himself over the rocks, while Drewer swings at the crab with a hatchet. Well, it’s a desperate situation, but there is one more thing they can try – an extreme measure with the double virtue of resolving not only the crab situation, but Marty’s romantic difficulties, too.... On cinematic qualities alone, I’m always surprised to reflect that when Attack Of The Crab Monsters was released in a double-bill with Not Of This Earth, it occupied the top half of the program. Still, there’s no question that Corman and AIP (the films’ distributors, although not their producers) knew what they were doing: Attack Of The Crab Monsters finally took in over $1 million – not a bad return on a mere $70,000 investment. Corman’s theory is that while it was the outrageous title and advertising art that brought the punters in, it was the film’s bizarre plot and impressive levels of suspense that kept them in their seats. (He also thinks the audience loved the crabs.) It’s hard to argue. There are plenty of monster movies from this era, but nothing quite like this one. In the end, it’s a near-perfect example of overcoming a limited budget through the power of a clever idea. |
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. Want a second opinion of Attack Of The Crab Monsters? Visit 1000 Misspent Hours - And Counting. |
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Click here for some Immortal Dialogue. | |
Footnote:
And I really cannot let this
occasion pass without this--- . |
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Even from the beach I could
sense it-- lack of welcome, lack of abiding life, like something in the air, a certain lack of sound. Yesterday there was a mountain out there. Now it's gone. And look at this radio, each tube neatly sliced in half. Blow the place up! That was my advice. But after the storm and the earthquake, after the tactic of the exploding plane and the strategy of the sinking boat, it looked like fate and I wanted to say, "Don't you see? So what if you are a famous biochemist! Lost with all hands is an old story." Sure, we're on the edge of an important breakthrough, everyone hearing voices, everyone falling into caves, and you're out wandering through the jungle in the middle of the night in your negligée. Yes, we're way out there on the edge of science, while the rest of the island continues to disappear until nothing's left except this cliff in the middle of the ocean, and you, in your bathing suit, crouched behind the scuba tanks. I'd like to tell you not to be afraid, but I've lost my voice. I'm not used to all these legs, these claws, these feelers. It's the old story, predictable as fallout--the rearrangement of molecules. And everyone is surprised and no one understands why each man tries to kill the thing he loves, when the change comes over him. So now you know what I never found the time to say. Sweetheart, put down your flamethrower. You know I always loved you. . --- Lawrence Raab . |
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Car Insurance |
----posted 28/11/2010 |