How a film called Attack of the Crab Monsters could ever not be celebrated amongst the cinematic greats is beyond all sense and reason. The title alone is so evocative and exciting that it would hardly be more noteworthy if every word were followed by an exclamation point. What's more, this glorious title does not even mislead its audience – no false advertising with this titan of excitement, this goliath of grotesquery. Make no mistake, the crab monsters do attack
and then some!
Director Roger Corman, immortalized in film history as the man pivotal in kickstarting the careers of Jack Nicholson, Dennis Hopper and Robert De Niro, as well as the creative force behind recent masterpiece Sharktopus, here delivers his opus, his most decadent gift to the industry and viewers alike. Who could forget those blaring opening title cards?
"You are about to land in a lonely zone of terror! You are part of the second scientific expedition dispatched to this mysterious bit of coral reef and volcanic rock. The first group has disappeared without a trace! Your job is to find out why!"
The very assembly of words is more shocking and chilling than a jellyfish popping up in the midst of one's swim trunks. Indeed, the film becomes all the more horrifying through the weight and responsibility it bestows upon the viewer. Who would dare to fail to find out where and how the first group disappeared?! No idle watching here!
And then. Tension, so thick, it feels ready to crack like an overcooked crustacean leg, as the smouldering scientists sear the screen, steadily speculating that the seemingly idyllic island is not as tranquil as it seems. What are those mysterious noises at night? Why does the voice of the French (?) professor continue to be faintly heard by the intrepid heroes, nights after his tragic and mysterious disappearance? Is he a ghost? Or have they merely descended into the bowels of madness?
The twist, of course, is as elementary as it is cunning: the professor has been absorbed into the psychic hive mind of the giant, radioactive land crabs, which also absorbed the essence of the former expedition crew! Whether this classic scene has been watched once or a thousand times, it never loses its raw poignancy, its emotion, its numbing fatality – an effect none of its countless imitators and parodies through the ages can do justice to. Indeed, as the intrigue continues, the crabs craft an increasingly persuasive argument to the benefits of being part of their psychic hive mind. No more feeble physicality, only a mass of mercury! No more moral quandaries, only some mighty impressive claws! Who could argue for tiresome autonomy and humanity, when faced with the prospect of having claws like that? Even the absurdist fretting of Ionesco pales in comparison to the existential torment embodied by Corman's masterpiece.
As such, the film's genius lies not in its cutting edge special effects (groundbreaking even today), but in the psychological fearlessness of its narrative. Why be human, when you could be a crab? Such a message lingers long after the film's (surely purposefully) jarring ending, haunting one's thoughts, like the murmurs of oh so many psychic crabs. Like the man whose hand is pointlessly severed by a falling rock, all we can do is gape in stunned horror that Corman's treatise on the human (and crustacean) condition has yet to attain its rightful recognition.
-5/10
Director Roger Corman, immortalized in film history as the man pivotal in kickstarting the careers of Jack Nicholson, Dennis Hopper and Robert De Niro, as well as the creative force behind recent masterpiece Sharktopus, here delivers his opus, his most decadent gift to the industry and viewers alike. Who could forget those blaring opening title cards?
"You are about to land in a lonely zone of terror! You are part of the second scientific expedition dispatched to this mysterious bit of coral reef and volcanic rock. The first group has disappeared without a trace! Your job is to find out why!"
The very assembly of words is more shocking and chilling than a jellyfish popping up in the midst of one's swim trunks. Indeed, the film becomes all the more horrifying through the weight and responsibility it bestows upon the viewer. Who would dare to fail to find out where and how the first group disappeared?! No idle watching here!
And then. Tension, so thick, it feels ready to crack like an overcooked crustacean leg, as the smouldering scientists sear the screen, steadily speculating that the seemingly idyllic island is not as tranquil as it seems. What are those mysterious noises at night? Why does the voice of the French (?) professor continue to be faintly heard by the intrepid heroes, nights after his tragic and mysterious disappearance? Is he a ghost? Or have they merely descended into the bowels of madness?
The twist, of course, is as elementary as it is cunning: the professor has been absorbed into the psychic hive mind of the giant, radioactive land crabs, which also absorbed the essence of the former expedition crew! Whether this classic scene has been watched once or a thousand times, it never loses its raw poignancy, its emotion, its numbing fatality – an effect none of its countless imitators and parodies through the ages can do justice to. Indeed, as the intrigue continues, the crabs craft an increasingly persuasive argument to the benefits of being part of their psychic hive mind. No more feeble physicality, only a mass of mercury! No more moral quandaries, only some mighty impressive claws! Who could argue for tiresome autonomy and humanity, when faced with the prospect of having claws like that? Even the absurdist fretting of Ionesco pales in comparison to the existential torment embodied by Corman's masterpiece.
As such, the film's genius lies not in its cutting edge special effects (groundbreaking even today), but in the psychological fearlessness of its narrative. Why be human, when you could be a crab? Such a message lingers long after the film's (surely purposefully) jarring ending, haunting one's thoughts, like the murmurs of oh so many psychic crabs. Like the man whose hand is pointlessly severed by a falling rock, all we can do is gape in stunned horror that Corman's treatise on the human (and crustacean) condition has yet to attain its rightful recognition.
-5/10