|
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
6
|
|
 |
|
6 |
|
10
= Highest Rating |
|
Guest
Review by William
P. Simmons |
|
An
admittedly populist filmmaker, William Girdler
was the very embodiment of the archetypal low
budget showman. A poet of exploitation moneymakers,
he offered audiences hungry for spectacle features
that tantalized and terrified, squeezing every
ounce of shock possible from situations/stories
already proven successful by the large studios
upon which he often fed his muse. It was only
a matter of time before the success of such eco-horrors
as Jaws (1975) interested
Girdler in the aesthetic and commercial promise
of the Nature exploitation film.
Whereas
primal man attempted to exorcise his fears in
the oral tradition of storytelling, we face our
culturally shared terrors through the vicarious
instrument of the Silver Scream. What more effective
representation of savage violence is there for
the filmmaker than the wild, untamed, unpredictable
savagery of wild animals? Inspiring fear and fascination,
untamed denizens of the forest reflect the internal
rage growling deep within our own skins, evoking
terror — not only
of violence and of the unknown —
but at our own natures. Animals of streams, forests,
plains, or backwoods represent the threat of a
natural world we both fear and fantasize about.
Symbolizing the untamable aspects of a world that
we haven't yet conquered (and never will), animals
are embodiments of the savage primates we began
as (and therefore representative of our savage
roots and hidden violent/sexual instincts) as
well as that freedom from responsibility, law
or morality that we both welcome and dread.
Fascinating and frightening,
Nature has long proved a crucial sub-form of exploitation
films. From the threat of rabid animals to celluloid
imaginings of creatures that never existed, from
the furry-fanged menaces of folklore to gators
in underground sewers, Nature is unstoppable,
untamable, and cannot be reasoned with. Possessing
natural weapons of agility, speed, and strength,
such wild animals as wolves and bears evoke ancestral
memory from ancient times, when Man knew what
it was to hear threatening growls in the darkness
(that weren't from his woman!) and saw fangs glistening
in the moonlight. Perhaps no one recognized this
fact better, and took such excellent advantage
of it, than Girdler, the consummate low budget
exploiter.
Often (and unfairly) neglected
by critics whose own tastes are developed by professors
scattered across institutions more concerned with
political theory than art or entertainment, William
Girdler was just as effective a thinker as he
was a lover of spectacle. A cinematic terrorist
using jarring images to shock audiences into reaction,
he also forced them to think... after they had
first been entertained. His 'nature amuck' films
are impossible to watch without sensing the eco-friendly
subtext underlying the action. Beneath breakneck
(and bared fangs) surface excitement runs thematically
rich condemnations of modern culture's attitude
of arrogance, abuse, and prejudice. In addition,
we sense a warning: continue the abuse of the
environment and suffer the carnal consequences.
Even if this moral posturing is utilized primarily
for establishing scenes of violence, its implication
lends social consciousness to Day
of the Animals, a thrill-ride of fur and
fury which exhibits Girdler's ability to combine
terrifying scares with philosophically discomforting
subtext.
|
| In
June 1974, Drs. F. Sherwood Rowland and Mario Molina
of the University of California startled the scientific
world with their finding that fluorocarbon gases
used in aerosol spray cans are seriously damaging
the Earth's protective ozone layer. Thus, potentially
dangerous amounts of ultraviolet rays are reaching
the surface of our planet, adversely affecting all
living things. This motion picture dramatizes what
COULD happen in the near future IF we continue to
do nothing to stop this damage to Nature's protective
shield for life on this planet. |
This quote, culled from the
film's beginning, immediately suggests the mixture
of social conscience and B-grade exploitation 'cheese'
that the filmmakers are about to unleash. Plot?!
You want plot, Bub? Here ya go: When the depletion
of the ozone layer turns animals living above the
altitude of 5000 feet violently aggressive and intelligent,
they turn on mankind. A group of yuppie holiday
hikers, led by the reliable, always likable Christopher
George (TV's The Rat Patrol, Grizzly),
find themselves caught in the wilderness with wolves,
hawks, snakes, bears, and worse of all... each other!
As townspeople below the mountain struggle to flee
from poisonous snakes, dogs, and assorted vermin,
the lonely pack of befuddled, hungry, feuding campers
struggle to stay alive, and from killing one another.
Journeying towards what they hope is a safe haven,
these characters from different social spectrums
must also face the cruel realities of their own
instincts; as the group slits into factions, tensions
boil over into rape and death. This deadly serious,
realistically acted, and naturalistically shot film
is an attack against self-satisfied civilization
and an attack against stereotypes.
This
occasionally slow moving if substantial cult offering
layers social critique amongst its bear and wild
dog attacks. A lively narrative also ravages such
surprisingly poignant problems as our human penchant
for stereotyping, racial relations, and sexual conquest,
revealing how thin our forced polite exteriors truly
are. A vivisection of human respectability, Girdler
uses his camera to expose pretenses of compassion,
showing it as a mask to disguise the inherent, inborn
cruelty of our species. He also exposes our rare
penchant for self sacrifice, loyalty, and honor.
Girdler may get a bit preachy at times —
if not in his dialogue than in the broad characterizations
and the manner in which his direction invites us
to condemn precisely what he wants —
but, most often, he is more concerned with storytelling
than preaching. He evokes creeping dread with adequate
emotion and a sure sense of pace, allowing characters
to emerge and interact before raising hell with
them, fusing several different types of fears, none
the least of which are our primal terror of other
species, our neighbors, and, lastly, ourselves.
Chaos breeds among the
initially playful, friendly, helpful hikers as soon
as the societal conventions/law which they have
depended on since birth to define the world (and
their own place in it) is replaced by savagery.
This is perhaps best emphasized in perhaps one of
the most enjoyably over-the-top scenes ever included
in a nature film, when Leslie Nielson's character
goes native (as a result of the toxins in the air
and due to his own animal nature), allowing what
little civility he possesses to slip away as he
attacks first a woman and then a bear! (Guess who
wins.) A metaphor for the film, his character is
society in miniature; barely restrained throughout
the early portion of the film, he needs little provocation
to revert back to form. His ill-fated wrestling
match with Mr. Grizzly lends the story deliciously
surrealist proportions.
An emotionally
scathing and surprisingly involving movie of murderous
mayhem and all-too-human monsters, Girdler's ode
to the great outdoors is pure exploitation pleasure.
Playing for screams, laughs, and empathy, the screenplay
invites sympathy if not always empathy with the
characters. Men and women who deserve better — people
with histories, dreams, and defects — suffer, die,
and kill, pleading for a mercy that rarely comes
from unsympathetic nature. |
|
|
|
Featuring two versions of
the film, the best looking/sounding version is
Day of the Animals,
the television print. Media Blaster's visual transfer
is reason to celebrate, considering the murky
quality disgracing earlier releases. Although
grain and surface scratching is occasionally present,
the 1.85:1 anamorphic transfer is generally fine.
English Dolby sound is adequate while not as strong
in quality as the picture. Something
is Out There, the original theatrical cut,
is included as a bonus. Although featured in its
original widescreen (2.35:1) aspect ratio, the
picture is decidedly inferior compared to the
television print, marred by scratchy audio hissing;
the picture itself is filled with lines and scratching.
While a complete film is generous as an extra
(even if in poor shape), there appears to be little
if any difference in content between the two prints.
The TV version doesn't trim any of the PG-13 level
violence.
Extras include a rather rough and tumble trailer,
while the television version of the feature includes
a commentary with Lynda Day George, Jon Ceeder,
and producer Scott Spiegal — odd, since he had
no connection to the film. Perhaps his fondness
for the feature propelled him to weigh in on it?
Either way, all concerned do a decent job. The
commentary is insightful, with each personality
sharing their distinct characteristics, loves,
and prejudices in a lively three-way (not that
way, you pervert!) discussion that covers everything
from Toby the Bear to the crew's fights with locals
during filming. We also hear gossip about Charles
Bronson and Lee Marvin in Death
Hunt, and of Billy Girdler's love for Tony
Curtis. A series of live interviews follows with
cast and crew, covering everything from limitations
to budget to personal demands. Of most interest
are observations made by actors, wondering aloud
about the quality of their performances. Along
the way we also learn about the importance of
audio effects when trying to make tame wildlife
sound threatening, and how the animals were often
anything but savage. Discussing in-depth the production
of the movie, heart-wrenching remembrances of
Girdler conclude this fearfully fun feature of
fur, fangs, and fighting.
5/09/06
|
HOME
| REVIEWS
| TOP
|
