Jasper Hawks (John Carradine) and
his feckless poltroon of a partner Elmer (John Mitchum, brother of Robert) tool
the backwoods area of (let’s assume) the Pacific Northwest with their carload
of tchotchkes and junk. Meanwhile, Joi
(Joi Lansing) is a pilot whose plane crashes in the same mountainous area where
she is summarily captured by a Bigfoot.
Also meanwhile, motorcycle enthusiast Rick’s (Chris Mitchum, son of
Robert) girlfriend Chris (the fulsomely bestowed, beauteous Judith Jordan) is likewise
kidnapped by a Bigfoot. Chris and Joi
are held captive while everyone else does a lot of talking and walking in their
search for them.
Robert F Slatzer’s Bigfoot does its damnedest to capitalize
on the then-recently released Patterson-Gimlin footage of a Bigfoot sloping
around Bluff Creek in Northern California.
Admittedly, the country had gone Bigfoot Crazy, and the beast (and
regional variations thereof) swiftly became as much a pop culture icon as it
was a figure of myth and speculation (this carries through to today, though in
far more cynical fashion). The first
thing that struck me while watching this film was how much it reminded me of
1972’s The Curse of Bigfoot. The resemblance is not so much in narrative content
aside from the subject matter. While I
haven’t seen Curse probably since I
was a kid, I clearly recall three things about it. One, its finale (monster movie endings back
then were straightforward). Two, the
monster was discovered wrapped like a mummy in a Native American burial
mound. Three, the monster makeup looked
like a giant meatball that someone had dropped into a pile of dog hair and
rolled around for a bit, then slapped eyes and fangs on it (and it had a habit
of walking directly at the camera as a sort of transitional device).
Bigfoot shares two of these traits, specifically. First, the monster makeup is horrible
(though, in fairness, better than that in Curse),
consisting of an immobile rubber mask and an ill-fitting fur suit. The kid Bigfoot simply has some black stage
makeup around his eyes and nose. It’s
almost sad, really, these yearnings for more Pakuni-esque makeup effects that
this thing evokes. Second, is the
creature’s ties to Native American culture and its own tribal structure. The characters come upon what they take to be
an Indian burial ground, but they find a dead Bigfoot in a shallow grave. Later, a Native American woman, upon hearing
of the monster, utters the word “Sasquatch,” thus giving the film a bit of
cultural diversity (no, not really). The
Bigfeet are dying off, the same as the Native American tribes had been for a
long, long time but had somehow only around this era really become a topic of
discussion in pop culture and media in general.
Like the Stick Indians (the more maladjusted version of the Bigfoot
legend in Native American mythology), these Bigfeet steal women in order to
breed with them. In essence, they play
the role of savages that Native Americans occupied in many a Western. Of course, all of this takes a back seat to
the rip-roaring excitement of walking and talking or getting the latest on
Sheriff Cyrus’ (James Craig) love life with Nellie (Dorothy Keller) down at the
local store.
Likewise, the film calls back
hard to 1933’s seminal King Kong as
well as 1740’s Beauty and the Beast (to
which Kong also calls back). In the opening credits, the creature is
billed as “The Eighth Wonder of the World,” just like Kong. After the film’s climax, Jasper laments that
“It was Beauty killed the Beast.” This
wouldn’t be so egregious if it weren’t so wrongheaded. Certainly, comparisons can be made between
Jasper and Carl Denham, but the Carradine character is portrayed as avaricious
and opportunistic to an almost villainous degree (plus, he’s really mean to
Elmer). Denham, at least as played by
Robert Armstrong, had a fatherly, caretaking connection to Ann Darrow,
motivating his sometimes-selfless acts in the efforts to rescue her. Yes, he could be myopic in his lust for fame
and fortune, but he wasn’t a total jerk.
What’s intriguing in this movie
is the idea of bestiality and sex in general which it puts at the
forefront. Joi and Chris are being held
specifically to have sex with the male Bigfoot and carry on its bloodline (Joi
somehow intuits this as if she were Jane Goodall). Further than this, the two actresses’
pulchritude is prominently on display throughout. By 1969, depictions of sex on screen had
become much more graphic, yet Slatzer and company never go the extra mile into
pure exploitation. It feels as though
they wanted to have just enough salacious teasing for the teenagers in the
audience (which also explains the “biker” angle, and yes, that word should be
in quotes with regard to this film) while also being chaste enough that parents
could take their families to see it.
Like the beasts in the movie, the audience is allowed to get fired up
about the possibilities available for sex in the film but will ultimately be
denied the experience, even vicariously.
Add to this the fact that the Bigfeet have no discernible
personalities. They are pure animals,
acting on vicious instinct, and this robs the film of any empathy we may have
about their plight. Unlike Kong or the
Beast, who formed connections with their captives and made us care about the
deep emotions that undo them, the Bigfeet are the proverbial pack of rabid dogs
in need of putting down. But, then, to
expect more from this movie is to not understand it.
Slatzer varies scenes shot on
location with scenes shot on stage sets.
The country store is perhaps the best lit (in a fake sense) one of its
kind ever put on screen. These staged
scenes serve to give the movie the feeling of something made for
television. One can understand this, as
indoor sets are far easier to control from a technical perspective, but their
insertion here undermines (or augments, depending on your point of view) any of
the low budget charm this film could have had.
It’s too sterile, too unnatural.
I can guess why the filmmakers chose to shoot so much filler of people ambling
through forests or motorcycling through forests or chatting in forests. It’s cheap and easy. But I would surmise that most people would
want to see this thing for a little bit of skin (a very little bit) and some
Bigfoot action. Watching actors (even
the great Carradine) spout variations on the same theme over and over again
with the occasional glimpse of what you’re anticipating feels more like a carny
cheat (and maybe Slatzer worked in carnivals, I don’t know) than the buildup
and payoff that an audience would actually want. At least the Patterson-Gimlin footage got it
right. It’s roughly two minutes of what
people desire: to have their sense of awe and wonder stoked. Bigfoot
is the equivalent of roughly ninety minutes of moving furniture, and who
desires that?
MVT: The idea isn’t
bad. It just never lives up to the
come-on of its advertising.
Make or Break: The extended
scene of Cyrus and Nellie discussing the local goings-on in their neck of the
woods about which no viewer in their right mind would give even the slightest
shit.
Score: 3/10
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