Tirelessly prolific veteran Italian exploitation picture director Antonio Margheriti's cinematic oeuvre is a very mixed bag, running the gamut from delightfully sleazy ("Cannibal Apocalypse") to nice, spooky, dripping with sepulchral atmosphere fright film fun ("The Virgin of Nuremburg," "The Long Hair of Death") to entertainingly goofy sci-fi ("The Wild, Wild Planet," "War Between the Planets") to pleasingly tacky spaghetti Westerns ("The Stranger and the Gunfighter," "Take A Hard Ride") to the unavoidable occasional dud.
This sci-fi/horror/conspiracy thriller sadly constitutes as one of Margheriti's dullest and least satisfying features, mainly because it's crucially bereft of the gleefully trashy verve which distinguishes his more enjoyable efforts. In its place there's no sex or nudity, mild profanity, tame violence, an interminably draggy pace, a wearily drawn-out narrative, and tepid action sequences; in short, everything a solid, rewarding little B-movie needs to seriously smoke is noticeably absent here. The blah plot offers a tediously trite'n'tired mishmash of boringly overused clichés, centering on your standard evil corporation illegally dumping radioactive waste into a dangerously volatile volcano located on a remote obscure island. Two wet-nosed bleeding heart liberal limp dishrag Greenpeace workers discover the pernicious goings-on and spend the rest of the film being hunted down in the dense tropical jungle by the usual assortment of greasy company flunkies. Oh yeah -- and there's a lethal, clawed, slime-drooling, steam-expelling extraterrestrial subterranean creature the pair also uncover and do their best to protect from the conglomerate's vile, greedy clutches. Token semi-name rugged, craggy-faced, firm block-of-granite character actor Charles Napier portrays a typically malevolent nasty army colonel on thespic automatic pilot throughout, wearing a fixed scowl on his puffy, roughhewn mug and grumbling all his dialogue in a deep, earthy, barely audible rumble mumble. Napier's given precious little to do that's worth seeing, an unfortunately malady that infects this dismally dreary clunker as a lethargic whole.
This sci-fi/horror/conspiracy thriller sadly constitutes as one of Margheriti's dullest and least satisfying features, mainly because it's crucially bereft of the gleefully trashy verve which distinguishes his more enjoyable efforts. In its place there's no sex or nudity, mild profanity, tame violence, an interminably draggy pace, a wearily drawn-out narrative, and tepid action sequences; in short, everything a solid, rewarding little B-movie needs to seriously smoke is noticeably absent here. The blah plot offers a tediously trite'n'tired mishmash of boringly overused clichés, centering on your standard evil corporation illegally dumping radioactive waste into a dangerously volatile volcano located on a remote obscure island. Two wet-nosed bleeding heart liberal limp dishrag Greenpeace workers discover the pernicious goings-on and spend the rest of the film being hunted down in the dense tropical jungle by the usual assortment of greasy company flunkies. Oh yeah -- and there's a lethal, clawed, slime-drooling, steam-expelling extraterrestrial subterranean creature the pair also uncover and do their best to protect from the conglomerate's vile, greedy clutches. Token semi-name rugged, craggy-faced, firm block-of-granite character actor Charles Napier portrays a typically malevolent nasty army colonel on thespic automatic pilot throughout, wearing a fixed scowl on his puffy, roughhewn mug and grumbling all his dialogue in a deep, earthy, barely audible rumble mumble. Napier's given precious little to do that's worth seeing, an unfortunately malady that infects this dismally dreary clunker as a lethargic whole.