Review: Beast From Haunted Cave

Chicago crims (led by Frank Wolff, and including Richard Sinatra, Sheila Carol, and Wally Campo) venture to snowy South Dakota to pose as tourists at a local ski lodge. They’re really hoping to rob the storage facility for a local gold mine, misdirecting unwanted attention by setting off explosives inside the gold mine itself. Their plan also includes hiring an unsuspecting ski instructor (Michael Forest) to guide them to a cabin where they will be met by a plane for their escape. Unfortunately, things hit a snag the night before the robbery, as would-be ladies’ man Sinatra has himself a bit of nookie with a local chickie whilst in the mine, as he is supposed to be setting the explosives. And that’s when the spider-like monster makes its presence known, killing the mood, and the girl. No one believes Sinatra, and the heist is still planned to go ahead. Bad idea.

 

Producer Gene Corman (“Attack of the Giant Leeches”, “Cool Breeze”) remakes an earlier film produced by his brother Roger (“Naked Paradise”, unseen by me), with this 1959 cheapie from debut director Monte Hellman (“Two-Lane Blacktop”), scribe Charles B. Griffith (“Little Shop of Horrors”, “Bucket of Blood”, “Death Race 2000”), and AIP Studios. Gene’s name is the most important to take into consideration here, as he might’ve been involved in low-budget filmmaking, but he sure as shit wasn’t as good at it as his brother Roger. If you see Gene’s name attached to any film, you know not to expect much (and that includes producing one of Roger’s rare directorial duds, the awful 1962 remake of “Tower of London”).

 

Because it only runs about 70 odd minutes, and spends an insurmountable stretch setting up the central characters, there’s simply not enough time to give equal weight to the monster movie element of the film. The monster isn’t even hinted at until the second half and the ending is awfully rushed.

 

I know the monster is absolutely awful and embarrassingly inadequate, but that’s no excuse to drown the whole thing in talk, especially when the actors are mostly not up to the task. Frank Wolff (who played Mr. McBain in “Once Upon a Time in the West”) fares best in one of his earliest screen outings as the head crim, but he can’t save it on his own. Wally Campo seems an incongruous fit in serious surroundings, though at least he has a personality. But that’s it for niceties amongst the cast. Richard Sinatra (nephew of you know who) gives one of the worst ‘method’ performances I’ve seen given by anyone other than Marlon Brando at his most unrestrained. And yet, Michael Forest still manages to be even worse, he’s even more wooden than the trees. Speaking of, the scenery is excellent, just a shame it wasn’t in service of something more substantial than this.

 

A high-concept film that moves too slow for something so short, ends up incredibly underwhelming. You could see it occupying the latter half of an AIP double bill, but I feel sorry for anyone who stays for it, and I doubt anyone who does would stay all the way through it. It’s not an outstandingly awful film, just a bit less than mediocre, and not worth talking about at any great length. Not Mr. Griffith’s finest hour, and not really worth seeing.

 

Rating: C-