Bigfoot (USA, 1970) 82 min color DIR: Robert F. Slatzer. PROD: Anthony Cardoza. SCR: Robert F. Slatzer, James Gordon White. MUSIC: Richard Polodor. DOP: Wilson S. Hong. CAST: John Carradine, Joi Lansing, Judy Jordan, John Mitchum, James Craig, Christopher Mitchum, Joy Wilkerson, Lindsay Crosby, Ken Maynard, Dorothy Keller, Doodles Weaver, Jennifer Bishop, William Bonner, Anthony Cardoza, Haji. (Gemini-American Productions)
I am astonished at the hate given to this film, even from people who appreciate B-movie trash. This is one of the most delightful pieces of rock-bottom drive-in junk I’ve ever seen: so much that it’s become a perennial viewing favourite at Casa G-Man every fall. Will it be as honoured a tradition as our annual Christmas Eve Empire of the Ants viewing? Time will tell, but it’s getting there. This lumbering, scattershot film is inept on so many levels that it enters a new realm of cinematic language. It is also morbidly fascinating to see so many veteran actors in this little movie, but they appear to be enjoying themselves. Perhaps the greatest revelation is former B-western star Ken Maynard as Mr. Bennett the store keeper, in his first screen appearance in more than a quarter century. Despite his oft-reported poor health at the twilight of his life brought on by years of alcoholism and malnutrition, even he is given some dignity.
John Carradine was first-billed in a lot of cheap horror movies, even if he had little more than a cameo. He is generously showcased here -and yes, hamming it up shamelessly- as traveling salesman Jasper B. Hawks, who with his cousin Elmer (John Mitchum, Robert’s brother in an Abe Lincoln beard), roam the countryside in their rickety old station wagon (the passenger door secured with rope to remain shut!), to hit up people with their cheap junk. At Bennett’s general store, they realize they can have more of a payola once Rick the young biker (Chris Mitchum, Robert’s son) comes in to call the sheriff about his girlfriend’s abduction. He had broken from the rest of his gang for some hanky panky with his girlfriend Chris (the fetching brunette Judy Jordan), only to roam onto the Sasquatch’s burial ground. He was knocked unconscious by a Bigfoot creature, and Chris was taken away, likely for breeding stock. Knowing that they could make money by capturing the creature and traveling the carnival circuit with “the eighth wonder of the world”, these old coots accompany Chris to rescue his girl. Meanwhile, as seen in the endless opening, Joi Lansing was also captured by the creatures when she parachuted to safety after her plane malfunctioned (although I doubt that airplane cabin left the ground in filming). The sheriff sits on his ass for the entire film, refusing to check in on such a cockamamie story. Oh, and this film offers a fascinating suggestion of what could’ve happened to Erich Von Zipper’s bike gang cohorts after the Beach Party movies ended, as Chris’s pals are a similar group of overaged misfits, who lumber to the rescue. For most of the film, Joi and Chris are tied to poles, discussing anthropology while the Sasquatch creatures seemingly take forever to get the procreating urge.
The film’s rampant technical ineptitude is part of its juvenile charm. A car drives through the forest after dark, and even though it’s shot day-for-night, no one thought to turn the headlights on. Everyone talks in studio echo, as much of the film is obviously shot in soundstages, where plastic trees are thinly disguised by dry ice. The handheld camera lurches and tilts with abandon, not just during the bikers’ wild transistor radio and beer party, giving the whole movie the essence of being shot on the run by a snake-oil salesman out to make a quick buck, with one foot already outside of the town line before his hapless customers get wise.
One is tempted to paint Carradine’s character as a self-portrait of its director-writer Robert F. Slatzer. A true huckster if there ever was one, Slatzer claimed to have been married to Marilyn Monroe for three days in 1952 (despite evidence to the contrary), also alleged that her death was caused by the Kennedy administration, and even published two books on the subject! When the traveling carnivals began to wane, hawkers of all stripes emigrated to the movies. Drive-in movies are especially made by snake-oil salesmen like Hawks, promising much but delivering little. (Check out that poster.) But isn’t that the appeal of going to the drive-in: the fun had while being had?
Since this is produced by Anthony Cardoza, there is a scene featuring aircraft, as in Coleman Francis’s infamous trilogy of films, which he produced, beginning with Beast of Yucca Flats. One is tempted to find a motif in his work, as the plane crash symbolizes man’s fall from grace and reduction to a barbaric state (as symbolized by Joi’s capture by the missing link creatures). But, nah, I’d bet that he was simply chummy with someone who owned a landing strip. This movie is simply too goofy, and too threadbare to be anything more than it is. However, this scrappy mess just seems to work, despite the staginess, the cheap props (“his motorcycle… one of those fancy rigs… I’ll bet those things must cost… a hundred dollars”), and of course, those furry costumes of the Bigfoot family, which appear as thrown together as everything else, strung along by a good natured country rock score. Although it seems to be a family affair (look at all the Mitchums and Cardozas in the credits), this is also a “who’s who” of drive-in cinema. One of the editors is Hugo Grimaldi (The Human Duplicators); Anthony Lanza (The Glory Stompers) is assistant director; second unit camera is by Henning Schellerup (In Search of Historic Jesus). I love this job.
Even though this movie was made to cash in on the burgeoning Bigfoot craze of the time, it curiously feels too old-fashioned for its time, further complimenting its innocent wide-eyed appeal. Now as then, they sure don’t make movies like this anymore, and it’s a darn shame. Bigfoot was released to VHS by World Video Pictures, and as of his writing has no disc release, unless you count the Cheezy Flicks edition, which is likely lifted from the VHS anyway. This flick is in dire need of a deluxe Blu-ray edition…. I’d buy it day one!