THE CREEPING TERROR/1964
The camera work is simply horrendous. I have seen few films with worse photography. I cannot even use the word cinematography here. It is way too white and lacks any contrast. It looks like more quality documentary footage from the 1930’s. There are some odd “experimental” camera angles where obviously the camera man simply climbed up into a tree and shot down through the leaves. The acting is notably bad but it could have been worse had the actors actually had to speak their lines. I do want to make a note of one memorable thespian and that is one Jack King who plays a fat grand dad who yells out the name Bobby a million and a half times. In one scene he falls into a small creek with his shirt open and blubber bouncing as he flees the monster. It is a very strange scene and even the stranger when you realize that this guy went on become a porn star in Sweden. A couple Swedish sex romps he is credited with “starring” in are Big Fat Man and Fat Peter Horn. I have not seen these and I am not encouraging anyone out to track these things down.
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Now of course the feature attraction of the film is Terror itself. If you have ever read about this film and seen the remarks about this monster I can assure you they are understatements at best. Words alone can describe this thing though walking carpet seems to come close enough. It is obviously a patch work of thick fabrics tossed over about four or five stage hands to make up the body and one man for the neck and head. It looks more than a little like those Chinese dragons you see on Chinese New Year where you can see the guy’s feet even. There are some sort of plastic tubes dangling from the top of its head that gives it a Whoopie Goldberg appearance.
The thing is so slow that someone in a wheelchair could easily escape it but it devours groups at a time because there either stand there and stare it with mouth agape (as I was before the TV screen) or they are always preoccupied with making out in a car or on a blanket somewhere. Some people have the courage to fight the beast, such a folk singer at a “hootenanny” who tries to kill it with his guitar. Then there is a group of the worst trained Army soldiers ever to wear the uniform who bunch up together and decide that they need to shoot the beast from point blank range rather than from, lets say, twenty yards away. I am sure bullets travel that far. Then when the Terror attacks they do what any highly trained group of US combat personnel do: they bunch up more and then fall to the ground in a heap and let the thing slowly creep over them.
Info on the new docu-drama Creep about Vic Savage: