Caveman (1981)

When I first considered reviewing Carl Gottlieb’s (co-screenwriter of JAWS) Caveman, I immediately thought of it in terms of comparisons to Eddie Cline and Buster Keaton’s Three Ages with the latter’s Stone Age segment.  I also assumed that the 1923 film was the earliest cinematic depiction of cavemen in comedic fashion (however, cavemen have been beating up dinosaurs in an adventurous vein on screen going, to my knowledge, as far back as 1912 in Man’s Genesis).  To absolutely no one’s surprise, I was wrong, and (to the best information my five minutes of research could cull) the earliest funny caveman movie was Charlie Chaplin’s 1914 short His Prehistoric Past (although it is feasible to disqualify it from this particular discussion, because it’s a short film [the same could be argued about the Keaton film, since that one is three short films cut together, but I digress], and because it’s not a straight up caveman film [I’ll let you spoil the particulars on this hundred-and-one year old film for yourself]).  Still, both of those films and Caveman (and the vast majority of prehistoric films) deal with a man standing up to a strong, evil tribal leader/rival in order to win the hand of the woman he loves (whether or not he realizes who that is).  To my mind, the reason this plot is so pervasive is because it is simple and primal.  It deals with the will to survive/dominate one’s world, and what could play to that better than killing giant beasts and taking the person you desire sexually?  Naturally, unlike something such as Don Chaffey’s One Million Years B.C. (which, of course, gave us arguably the world’s most famous fur bikini), Gottlieb’s film has to frustrate our protagonist Atouk (the unlikely, but brilliantly cast when you think about it, Ringo Starr) in comedic ways, even when his life is threatened.  But the basic themes are present, and they work well (as they work well in most of the subgenre just for being what they are).

Atouk is the runt of a clan ruled by Tonda (the late John Matuszak), and he desires Tonda’s voluptuous woman Lana (Starr’s real life spouse Barbara Bach, who proves here that even cavewomen knew how to crimp hair).  However, after being kicked out of the clan on a trumped up gross incompetence accusation, Atouk and friend Lar (Dennis Quaid), meet up with Tala (Shelley Long) and her blind friend, the elderly Gog (Jack Gilford, who, unsurprisingly threatens to steal the entire movie at times).  But while Tala has eyes for Atouk, Atouk still pines for Lana and hatches schemes to take her away from Tonda.

Caveman is one of those movies that exemplifies just exactly how far a PG rating could be stretched back in the early Eighties.  There is cleavage and fur-clad bums thither and yon.  There is toilet humor galore, including, but not limited to, an explosive fart gag, a fart in the face gag, and (most famously) a scene where characters literally dig through a pile of dinosaur shit.  Atouk gets goosed and molested by a sentient plant.  A dinosaur gets its genitals stimulated.  Perhaps most startling, our hero basically Rufies his desired and tries to get in her loins while she’s passed out.  Yet, this is handled so innocently, so desperately on the part of Atouk/Starr that it doesn’t play as offensively as it could have in another context.  Atouk genuinely has feelings for Lana (however wrongheaded they may be), and he has a sense of wide-eyed reverence for her (he offers her fruit he has squirreled away, while the rest of the tribe has failed to “bring home the Bronto”).  That I saw this at such an early age amazes me (well, not really; this would have attracted me just from the Chris Walas designed Abominable Snowman [played by Richard Moll] and David Allen’s stop motion dinosaurs [an obsession I’ve had since 1933’s King Kong and set in stone by The Valley of Gwangi, a film my uncle claims was made for kids who like to pull the wings off of flies, though I only half agree with that statement]).  That I understood all of it, including the “naughty” bits, is impressive and indicative of just how much can be conveyed through an extremely limited vocabulary (I still like saying “zug zug” from time to time), and pantomime/gestures (a filmic vocabulary created and refined in the silent era by luminaries such as those named in the first paragraph).

The film’s primary theme concerns itself with misfits and the coalition/power built around what many consider to be the dregs of society (yet another in the long, long list of things that I would argue harkens back to Tod Browning’s superlative Freaks).  As previously stated, Atouk is a runt.  Lar, who is good-looking and in relatively good health, is kicked out of the clan for hurting his leg (a wounded hunter-gatherer is a useless hunter-gatherer).  Gog is sightless and old.  Later on, Atouk will meet up with a black man, an Asian man (who, of course, is the only one who can speak fluent English), a little man, a gay couple, and various other throwaways.  Outside of those more clearly defined in their outsider status, the majority of the others in this makeshift tribe are closer in resemblance to Atouk.  They are slight of build, odd, shorter than normal, essentially square pegs.  Just as Atouk is the opposite of Tonda (weak versus strong, short versus tall, Ringo versus handsome, et cetera), Tala is the opposite of Lana.  She is blonde, skinny, small-chested, and quite intelligent (Lana may be intelligent as well, but her unwavering obeisance to Tonda marks her as a sheep, not a shepherd, so to speak).  In cinematic terms, this signifies Tala as “good” and the natural choice to be Atouk’s mate (in a Betty versus Veronica sort of way).  Atouk just needs to have his eyes opened, because even though he accepts these oddballs who have coalesced around him, his desire lies with the popular opinion of what a man should be and should want in a woman (be they cave or otherwise, and rather ironic considering Starr and Bach’s relationship off screen, but this is the movies where there is little difference between what’s “right” and what choices its traditional, underdog protagonist will make).  Atouk doesn’t want to be a misfit (hey, who does?), yet this is the exact thing he must embrace in order to triumph in his prehistoric world.

Caveman was released in America on DVD and Blu-ray via Olive Films, and it’s presented at 1.85:1 ratio.  The color palette of the film was never something that popped off the screen, but its hues look nice here, and the picture quality is as pristine as it can get.  The mono soundtrack is in English only (not that this movie would need much in the way of dubbing or subtitles), and it’s satisfying with every grunt and gaseous expulsion coming through loud and clear, but especially Lalo Schifrin’s jaunty score, which is so catchy, it will resound in your head for days (nay, years) after hearing it.  The disc includes a trailer for the film.

MVT:  I love the film’s light, slightly naughty tone.  You can slip into this film like a comfy pair of old slippers and just enjoy it like a pot of macaroni and cheese.

Make or Break:  The Make for me is the Ice Age scene.  Anyone who has read my reviews knows of my adoration for hirsute monsters, and the Snowman is a great costume.  Plus, the slapstick chase across the ice just works in spades, like something out of a Three Stooges short.  Sold!

Score:  7.5/10

Robot Jox (1989)

If I’ve discovered one thing about myself in this lifetime it’s that, in the realm open debate, I’m just no damn fun at all.  It’s not that I don’t have my opinions.  I do.  We all do.  However, I seem to have a knack (we could even call it a penchant) for being able to empathize with the other side of an argument, even if I in no way agree with anything that’s being said.  This doesn’t mean that I can be swayed easily, or that I will endorse an opponent’s views.  It simply means that I can get where the opposing opinion is coming from and understand the context of the argument if not the content.  Some would say this makes me a pushover, but I disagree (ho, ho).  I simply understand and acknowledge the idea that reasonable people can disagree and most (but definitely not all) disagreements should be handled calmly and rationally to the extent that the participants can do so.  And this is the reason why I don’t generally get into anything political or religious with anyone on the internet.  There is no respect for the other person’s opinion from what I’ve seen in general, just children flinging poo with every ounce of strength they can muster rather than making any type of effort to come to a consensus (they basic reason for getting in an argument in the first place).  People value their own opinions, and I think that’s just ducky.  But just because you say something louder and more obnoxiously than others doesn’t make you right.  But I’d like to think we are collectively better than that.  Of course, sometimes I wouldn’t mind telling people to just go fuck themselves, either.

Stuart Gordon’s Robot Jox opens in the future, some fifty years after a nuclear war has wreaked havoc with the world.  However, nations still exist (or at least two do, at any rate), and when they have a dispute over territory or anything else, their fighters (called “Jox” or “Jocks”) duke it out from within Brobdingnagian armored systems.  American Robojock Achilles (Gary Graham) watches his friend Hercules (Russel Case) get stomped by evil Russkie, sorry, Confederation Jock Alexander (Paul Koslo).  Meanwhile, Dr. Laplace (Hilary Mason) has developed genetically engineered humans, derisively called “Tubies,” and she wants them to get into robot piloting to prove her work’s merit.  Plus, there’s a spy giving American secrets to the Commies, sorry, Confederation, making them even harder to beat.  And on top of all that, the Reds, sorry, Confederation are disputing our ownership of Alaska, bringing Achilles and Alexander robotic toe to robotic toe in a battle to the death.

It’s been suggested in the past (I cannot recall by whom at present) that the premise of this film is almost exactly how the world should settle all its disagreements (though he/she wasn’t speaking with this specific film in mind, of course).  Take the top executives from the nations who have a gripe with each other, toss them in a pit, and whoever comes out is the winner.  Of course, that would also mean that government would have to be selected on the basis of physical superiority rather than on any type of mental acuity (and add to that a likely high rate of attrition).  So, geo-politics would turn into the singles bar/pageant scene (moreso than it already is), and let’s not even think about the inherent corruption that would fill the void behind the public faces of government.  In this film, the government has proxies in the form of the Robojox, so the politicians don’t have to get their hands dirty (as per usual).  And even though war itself has been outlawed in this future time, the thought of robots fighting out our problems somehow makes the thought of war slightly less scary.  The long-distance annihilation prevalent with the invention of the atomic bomb is off the table.  Everything is reduced to the credo “might makes right.”  If your robot is superior and has a superior pilot, your country will be the victor.  Logistical strategy is out the window, by and large.  Your opponent is in front of you.  Hit it until it can’t get up anymore.

This sense of tactility extends to the control systems for the robots.  There appears to have been a decent amount of thought put into how the robots operate, and it all makes sense from a design standpoint.  What it also does is provide a theme of synthesis between human and robot.  Granted, if a robot’s arm is blown off, the Jock doesn’t feel it, but since the destruction of the robot tacitly implies the destruction of its pilot, their fates are inextricably linked in the same way that the pilot occupies the inside of the robot (it is, after all, a giant metal coffin-in-waiting).  

For anyone who is a fan of Japanese anime, the basic hook of this film should feel extremely familiar.  Science Fiction in anime very often has at least one giant robot either piloted by or controlled by one or more humans (inexplicably youthful ones at that).  In Japan, this idea of symbiosis with man and machine is rather old hat and even kind of accepted as fairly normal (but who am I to say it’s not, right?).  Naturally, there are more than enough anime (animes?) with nary a robot in sight, but admit it: when you hear the term “anime,” the first thing you think of is some giant robot kicking the shit out of some other giant robot or tentacle monstrosity.  

This synthesis of man and robot can be extrapolated to include “others” in the form of the genetically engineered humans who, at first glance, appear to be the next step in evolution.  In essence, they are people who were grown, embodying only the best in physical traits, but they remain inferior to natural humans, because their thinking has been developed within strict parameters none of which take into account things like luck, intuition, or compassion.  The Gen-Jox also proffer a focus for the film’s commentary on both sexism and racism (unthinkable in the future, I know).  Showing a rather ugly side to his character (and aside from calling them “Tubies” in the first place), Achilles refers to these new people as “manufactured.”  In other words, they may live and breathe and have their own thoughts, but they are worth less than regular humans (sound familiar?).  The Gen-Jox are, in effect, no more significant than a coffee maker or the robot that Achilles pilots.  Intriguingly, the actors portraying the Tubies are all non-Caucasian (or at the very least appear to be) as well, giving the audience the general idea without having to actually point it out.  Adding to and proceeding from this aspect of the film is the lone female Tubie, Athena (Ann-Marie Johnson), who has to not only gain respect despite her genesis but must also prove herself in a male-dominated society and a male-dominated sport.  That she proves herself as worthy as she does is impressive.  That the filmmakers don’t quite allow her to make good on her promise is a bit of a let-down.  But for some of the more progressive ideas brought up in Robot Jox, at the end of the day, it’s a somewhat vanilla affair that manages to succeed well as a Science Fiction/Action film. 

MVT:  Much like with The Crater Lake Monster, the greatest thing about this film is the robot fights (not that there are robot fights in that one, but I think you understand where I’m coming from here).  The late, great David Allen’s stop-motion work is fantastic, and the miniature work is convincing, for the most part.  The battles are fierce, and you can almost feel the impacts (that the robots’ armor isn’t able to withstand more than they can is interesting on a contextual level but frustrating on an entertainment level, but still…)

Make Or Break:  The Make for me was what I like to call the “Monkey Bar Scene.”  All of the Gen-Jox are in a plain white room with an asymmetrical metal pipe structure in the middle.  The Gen-Jox are instructed to climb the bars and get through a hole in the ceiling.  Needless to say, it’s more difficult than it appears.  This was a very well-executed scene that worked for me on a narrative and thematic level.

Score:  6.5/10

The Crater Lake Monster (1977)

It is rather distressing to me, the facility with which people will place their trust in technology.  Perhaps it’s because I work daily with machines which appear to have been “updated” simply for the sake of being updated.  Perhaps it’s that (for all my claims to the contrary) I could very well be a Luddite at heart.  I don’t think that people who trust in ever-evolving technology (let’s call them “trusters” for the sake of brevity) are by any means less smart than me or that they’re easily duped, per se, and I can completely understand the desire of making things faster, more compact, and more portable.  Hell, I’ve been tempted on more than one occasion to purchase one of these newfangled e-readers.  But my main issue (which I’ll probably get over around the time I’m on my deathbed) lies in the nature of data storage.  

Let’s say, I buy a book.  So long as I take relatively decent care of it, I can keep this book for the rest of my life.  I can open it to any page at any time in an instant.  If I buy a digital edition of the same book, I have now linked myself to a device which requires power of some variety in order to read it.  I have to wait for said device to start up and say it’s okay for me to open up the book file.  If there is an issue that the data gets corrupted or lost, I now have to go through a process to try and retrieve that which I have spent my money on or risk having to buy the file all over again (unlikely maybe but certainly possible).  I’m sure there are some safeguards built in, possibly at point of purchase, to protect against this, and you can even back your data up (and give yourself some form of physical copy of the material, thus defeating part of the whole reason for downloading a book in the first place), though I would be wary of saving anything to ”the cloud.”  How do you know you’re going to be able to get to it?  How do you know your files haven’t been lost or corrupted in the cloud?  What if you’re experiencing problems with internet connectivity?  How do you protect yourself in a growing sea of cybercrimes as you expand your presence in the digital realm?  I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point.  Books rock.  You should read more of them.  And besides, I’m fairly confident that an e-reader doesn’t have that same pulp and ink smell which only a physical book can give you.

One evening, as Doc Calkins (Bob Hyman) is just relaxing at his cabin, he is startled by the sudden appearance of Susan (Kacey Cobb) who declares that her boyfriend Dan (Richard Garrison) has made an incredible discovery.  Racing to the mine-shaft-cum-archaeological-dig site, the trio wends its way down to a wall upon which have been painted ancient depictions of Native American tribes fighting with a (rather well-delineated) Plesiosaur.  At that very moment, a meteor streaks across the sky and hits the lake next door.  The force of the impact brings down the mine shaft walls and (I assume) floods the caverns with water.    Hitting up the mustachioed, limp-coiffed Sheriff Steve (Richard Cardella), the scientists try to investigate the meteor, but the heat is too much for them to handle.  Needless to say, the meteor’s vicinity to a dinosaur egg at the lake bottom will prove to have disastrous consequences for everyone.

I would wager that William R. Stromberg’s The Crater Lake Monster was produced solely to cash-in on the world’s fascination with the paranormal in general and the cryptid Nessie specifically.  It has the stop-motion wizardry of the late, great David Allen as well as Jim Danforth, Phil Tippett, and Randall Cook to recommend it.  That’s some lineup of talent, and when their work is onscreen, it’s as impressive as it can be.  However, I don’t know if it was due to budget or time concerns (probably a combination of the two), but the shots with the stop-motion creature are sparse, even though we get to see the beast quite well early on.  Consequently, the monster never really has any sort of personality for the viewer to discern, and the life-size model of the creature’s head is immobile, thus adding nothing of value other than something to physically grab a character onscreen.  It’s just a large, dumb animal which was birthed and developed unnaturally and wants to eat people. If this were a Nature Amok film, then having a creature of this type would be perfectly acceptable, acting as an unknown and unknowable quantity (after all, who among us can know what really transpires in the minds of Plesiosaurs?), but we see the thing when it’s around, and all of its attacks are telegraphed.  This is something of a letdown for someone like me who has been a massive fan of the artistry of stop-motion techniques for as long as I can remember.  But I suppose we take what we can take where we can take it. 

Nonetheless, the film does not follow a standard Nature Amok framework.  It does not follow a standard Creature Feature framework (and, to be sure, the two are quite similar).  It doesn’t even follow a standard Melodrama framework.  There is no evil corporation polluting the environment or threatening to kick the indigenous people off their land.  There is no big festival on the lake for the monster to disrupt.  There is no venal, (but not strictly) evil city council member/mayor who places his constituents lives in danger by ignoring the warning signs and allowing the annual regatta/swim meet/seasonal park opening to proceed.  Yet, we have come to expect a certain structure in genre films of this era.  We expect an inciting incident to hook us.  We expect a lot of exposition and filler, punctuated here and there with briefly satisfying bits to keep us from walking out.  We expect an ending that, even if it doesn’t bring the house down, fulfills something of the come-on which enticed us to see the film in the first place.  This is not to say that we necessarily need to see generic conventions (despite our anticipation of them), nor that a standard framework of any variety needs to be followed in a film, but we’re getting to that, as well.

The Crater Lake Monster both meets and subverts expectations.  It is, in fact, loaded with subplots which go on for far too long and contribute nothing to the story other than enabling the monster to (thankfully) make a few brief appearances.  So far, so good.  However, almost the entirety of the rest of the film has jack shit to do with any sort of hunt for the titular creature.  In fact, what the vast majority of the film centers on are the not-so-funny antics and misadventures of local shitkickers and boat rental magnates  Arnie and Mitch (Glen Roberts and Mark Siegel, respectively).  Like a Northern Californian equivalent of something Hal Roach or Mack Sennett would have produced (but not remotely as entertaining or sophisticated), this unseemly duo just sort of gad about, take advantage of the “squares,” get wasted on what I can only imagine is corn mash, and peregrinate through the woods, woolgathering about how they’re going to be successful one day.  The typically heroic characters for this sort of film, the lawman, the scientist, the old wise man, predominantly occupy the background.  In effect, it makes the film into a quasi-statement on hope and modernity.  Mitch and Arnie are low tech guys.  They can’t even fix their own boat motors.  They talk big about what they’re going to do, their future constantly ahead of them, never living in the moment.  The creature comes along, and the pair suddenly have something new (ironically from the Mesozoic era and therefore being both modern and primitive) on which to hitch their wagon.  However, their hubris in believing that this deceptively primordial animal can be mastered may very well prove lethal.  Arnie and Mitch’s dreams run into the reality of the modern world in which they are living.  It is how they adapt (or if they can) which will determine their survival.  And yet, even with all of that in mind, I still prefer physical books to digital files.  Oh, well.

MVT:  The monster is the headliner, and he (she/it) is the reason to watch.  That it gets short shrift is somewhat disheartening, but to be frank, I’ll take any excuse I can to marvel at a stop-motion monster.  Sure, they have an artificiality to them, but if that’s your argument for not liking them, I would suggest that you’re missing their charms entirely.

Make Or Break:  I was actually surprised that they showed the creature as clearly and for as long as they did for how early it first shows up in the film.  Essentially, the monster’s first appearance is both payoff and inducement, and that the rest of the film is so unusual in approach as well makes the whole movie stand just a few inches away from the rest of the crowd.  

Score:  6.25/10