User:milesbogus on Sat, 19 Aug 2006 15:13:25 +0000
The Giant Gila Monster
Year: 1959 Director: Ray Kellogg Starring: Don Sullivan, Fred Graham, and Lisa Simone Featuring: Shug Fisher, Bob Thompson, Janice Stone, and Ken Knox Music by Jack Marshall From the "Horror Classics" Boxed Set
Overview
A small town is terrorized by a homicidal, gigantic swamp monster. The crusading efforts of a local hot-rod enthusiast, in collaboration with a valiant policeman, lead to the control of this heinous threat. The creature's climactic assault on the local teenagers' Saturday night sock-hop initiates the riveting conclusion, including thrilling explosions and some warm-fuzzy-go-lucky feelings. Jaunty musical numbers and quaint 1950's aura make this film a fun and engaging experience.
Extended Analysis
In a filmic prolepsis to 1976's The Milpitas Monster, Ray Kellogg's The Giant Gila Monster (1959) tells the tale of a community ravaged by the bloodlust of a menacing monster who crawls up from the liminal town outskirts. Also, in a gesture that will appear later in Milpitas, it is the collaboration of teen ingenuity and police authority that ultimately curtails the monster's deadly rampage.
To begin, the viewer immediately comprehends the primordial beginnings of the monster, a gigantic Gila monster whose remarkable growth has defied nature and God, as the voice-over narrator states that the virtual wasteland from which the monster springs is "posted by God." This creature is an affront to, not only our sense of the conventional, but to the roots of our very spiritual foundations. It will take a pretty incredible hero to save the town from such a diabolical manifestation of evil. Thank God this town has produced Chase Winstead (played steadfastly and charismatically by Don Sullivan), a local grease-monkey-come-song-maven. Chase, though struggling against a bad rap leveled on him by the rich and powerful elite set of his small town community, represents a bastion of truth and integrity, having raised his siblings after the passing of their parents while maintaining a truly sweet hotrod. Not only is Chase talented with a monkey wrench, his velvety pipes have enabled him to seduce the town's French foreign exchange student (testament to Chase's cosmopolitan worldview) by singing such destined-to-be-megahits as "She Swings and She Sings" and "Children Laugh, The Lord Said Laugh"(with ukulele accompaniment). More on Chase in a moment.
Back to the monster, the simple folk of the community are mystified by the disappearance of a local playboy and his girl, whom we know have been gruesomely murdered in the opening of the film, at the hands (or should I say claws) of the Gila monster. The film displays a realistic touch by employing an actual Gila monster who wanders genially among miniature sets of trees and bridges. Instead of superimposing the beast's image over other scenes (a la The Night of the Lepas) or using a monster costume (a la Milpitas), the Gila, unfortunately comes off a bit mild-mannered, despite Jack Marshall's eerie score. The gigantism that the monster exhibits is later explained in the film by the sheriff, a fair and solid man of character that allows Chase, a local teenager he esteems to do most of the investigating in the film (this might seem careless, and possibly homoerotic, but by the end of the film, it's apparent that the sheriff, a surrogate father to Chase, employs this visionary crime-fighting technique to truly glorious ends). According to the sheriff, the monster's size is from the desert's salts "causing them to be giants." This is as much explanation as we get, though the sheriff notes that similar things happened in Russia (creating a potent link to the Cold War mentality that was quite happy to blame those lousy Pinko sonsabitches for just about everything). Who knew salt could be so violently toxic? Should we be testing major league baseball players for salt abuse? What about the children? What will become of our communities if salt addictions plague the young, causing them to grow large and unruly, possibly decimating malls with their enormous feet, or worse, attending clubs only to kill their dance partner mid-grind by gyrating with their grotesque ass? This film doesn't ask these questions, but the threat is there as the sheriff notes the story of a 183 lb. toddler that made the paper. Yikes.
Meanwhile, Chase has cornered his young French maiden and her host mother and young sister in their home, where he regales them with song. Armed only with his trusty uke, Chase sings songs as the women look at one another with forced grins and uncomfortable sidelong glances. While the film implies that these women are actually enjoying the performance, the critical viewer will notice the host mother's lack of expression that turns to concern as the younger women look on at Chase's unremitting eye-contact. What appears quaint in the 1950's, as Chase serenades the young sister, smacks of pedophilic gesticulation to a contemporary audience. One has to wonder, is the monster or Chase's ukulele more threatening to the town's sanctity? The answer is in the film's gripping conclusion.
After many more mysterious disappearances and sightings of the monster, Chase and the rest of the local teens attend a rousing sock-hop where the DJ quizzes the crowd after a certain record is played. "Who do think it is?" he asks, to which the teens shout: "Elvis!" Of course, we know that it's not Elvis, and as his French gal tells us, the record is none other than local hotrodder, Chase. After some gentle prodding, Chase is convinced to sing a number. His ukulele appears from nowhere and he again sings his personal favorite, "Children Laugh, the Lord Said Laugh," to which the mindless, lemming 1950's teen audience mildly bob there a-rhythmic heads. It is here that I vomited a little and quickly swallowed it. Thankfully, as would be sensational in The Milpitas Monster much later, the monster invades the dance and the kids are sent screaming. Chase chases (this last phrase perhaps evinces the symbolic nature of Chase's name) the beast and in order to save the little sister he earlier serenaded, sends his bitchin' ride into the beast, exploding both the car and the monster in a fire blast. The film closes with a group of happy folks smiling and watching a bloody giant carcass burn in the moonlight.
By the end, the audience knows that despite the death of one violent killer, Chase's horrifying songs linger on. The impact of this threat leaves the viewer with a sense of disquiet akin to that feeling that you might, in fact, crap your own pants. Chilling.
-Review by Eugenio W. Frenchini - www.choicegrinds.com
User:milesbogus on Sat, 19 Aug 2006 15:13:25 +0000
The Giant Gila Monster
Year: 1959 Director: Ray Kellogg Starring: Don Sullivan, Fred Graham, and Lisa Simone Featuring: Shug Fisher, Bob Thompson, Janice Stone, and Ken Knox Music by Jack Marshall From the "Horror Classics" Boxed Set
Overview
A small town is terrorized by a homicidal, gigantic swamp monster. The crusading efforts of a local hot-rod enthusiast, in collaboration with a valiant policeman, lead to the control of this heinous threat. The creature's climactic assault on the local teenagers' Saturday night sock-hop initiates the riveting conclusion, including thrilling explosions and some warm-fuzzy-go-lucky feelings. Jaunty musical numbers and quaint 1950's aura make this film a fun and engaging experience.
Extended Analysis
In a filmic prolepsis to 1976's The Milpitas Monster, Ray Kellogg's The Giant Gila Monster (1959) tells the tale of a community ravaged by the bloodlust of a menacing monster who crawls up from the liminal town outskirts. Also, in a gesture that will appear later in Milpitas, it is the collaboration of teen ingenuity and police authority that ultimately curtails the monster's deadly rampage.
To begin, the viewer immediately comprehends the primordial beginnings of the monster, a gigantic Gila monster whose remarkable growth has defied nature and God, as the voice-over narrator states that the virtual wasteland from which the monster springs is "posted by God." This creature is an affront to, not only our sense of the conventional, but to the roots of our very spiritual foundations. It will take a pretty incredible hero to save the town from such a diabolical manifestation of evil. Thank God this town has produced Chase Winstead (played steadfastly and charismatically by Don Sullivan), a local grease-monkey-come-song-maven. Chase, though struggling against a bad rap leveled on him by the rich and powerful elite set of his small town community, represents a bastion of truth and integrity, having raised his siblings after the passing of their parents while maintaining a truly sweet hotrod. Not only is Chase talented with a monkey wrench, his velvety pipes have enabled him to seduce the town's French foreign exchange student (testament to Chase's cosmopolitan worldview) by singing such destined-to-be-megahits as "She Swings and She Sings" and "Children Laugh, The Lord Said Laugh"(with ukulele accompaniment). More on Chase in a moment.
Back to the monster, the simple folk of the community are mystified by the disappearance of a local playboy and his girl, whom we know have been gruesomely murdered in the opening of the film, at the hands (or should I say claws) of the Gila monster. The film displays a realistic touch by employing an actual Gila monster who wanders genially among miniature sets of trees and bridges. Instead of superimposing the beast's image over other scenes (a la The Night of the Lepas) or using a monster costume (a la Milpitas), the Gila, unfortunately comes off a bit mild-mannered, despite Jack Marshall's eerie score. The gigantism that the monster exhibits is later explained in the film by the sheriff, a fair and solid man of character that allows Chase, a local teenager he esteems to do most of the investigating in the film (this might seem careless, and possibly homoerotic, but by the end of the film, it's apparent that the sheriff, a surrogate father to Chase, employs this visionary crime-fighting technique to truly glorious ends). According to the sheriff, the monster's size is from the desert's salts "causing them to be giants." This is as much explanation as we get, though the sheriff notes that similar things happened in Russia (creating a potent link to the Cold War mentality that was quite happy to blame those lousy Pinko sonsabitches for just about everything). Who knew salt could be so violently toxic? Should we be testing major league baseball players for salt abuse? What about the children? What will become of our communities if salt addictions plague the young, causing them to grow large and unruly, possibly decimating malls with their enormous feet, or worse, attending clubs only to kill their dance partner mid-grind by gyrating with their grotesque ass? This film doesn't ask these questions, but the threat is there as the sheriff notes the story of a 183 lb. toddler that made the paper. Yikes.
Meanwhile, Chase has cornered his young French maiden and her host mother and young sister in their home, where he regales them with song. Armed only with his trusty uke, Chase sings songs as the women look at one another with forced grins and uncomfortable sidelong glances. While the film implies that these women are actually enjoying the performance, the critical viewer will notice the host mother's lack of expression that turns to concern as the younger women look on at Chase's unremitting eye-contact. What appears quaint in the 1950's, as Chase serenades the young sister, smacks of pedophilic gesticulation to a contemporary audience. One has to wonder, is the monster or Chase's ukulele more threatening to the town's sanctity? The answer is in the film's gripping conclusion.
After many more mysterious disappearances and sightings of the monster, Chase and the rest of the local teens attend a rousing sock-hop where the DJ quizzes the crowd after a certain record is played. "Who do think it is?" he asks, to which the teens shout: "Elvis!" Of course, we know that it's not Elvis, and as his French gal tells us, the record is none other than local hotrodder, Chase. After some gentle prodding, Chase is convinced to sing a number. His ukulele appears from nowhere and he again sings his personal favorite, "Children Laugh, the Lord Said Laugh," to which the mindless, lemming 1950's teen audience mildly bob there a-rhythmic heads. It is here that I vomited a little and quickly swallowed it. Thankfully, as would be sensational in The Milpitas Monster much later, the monster invades the dance and the kids are sent screaming. Chase chases (this last phrase perhaps evinces the symbolic nature of Chase's name) the beast and in order to save the little sister he earlier serenaded, sends his bitchin' ride into the beast, exploding both the car and the monster in a fire blast. The film closes with a group of happy folks smiling and watching a bloody giant carcass burn in the moonlight.
By the end, the audience knows that despite the death of one violent killer, Chase's horrifying songs linger on. The impact of this threat leaves the viewer with a sense of disquiet akin to that feeling that you might, in fact, crap your own pants. Chilling.
-Review by Eugenio W. Frenchini - www.choicegrinds.com
User:Ralph1 on Tue, 15 May 2012 20:51:41 +0000
I love the scene where the Gila Monster wrecks the model train stuff.