!!WARNING - MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!! A self-regenerating, prehistoric monster is accidentally dredged up in Scandinavia and returns to life to wreak havoc on Copenhagen. Yawn. Or rather, it would have been a yawn were it not for the amateurish effects, cut-rate production values, and ham handed direction. But then, this is an AIP production, so we suppose it sort of goes with the territory. The phlegm-spewing monster itself is so obviously a puppet that you can't stop yourself from laughing out loud, looking for all the world like a Halloween gag from the "Crank Yankers" TV show. Y'see, Godzilla had fiery, electrified breath, Rodan had his supersonic slipstream, but Reptilicus has acidic, corrosive. . .phlegm. Charming. The animated sequences of Reptilicus letting fly said phlegm, and of the hapless farmer being eaten alive, are howlers of ineptitude, as is the climactic scene of the bazooka shell exploding in the monster's mouth. The first half (and, come to think of it, a lot of the second half), are very little more than a travelog of Copenhagen, done no doubt to pad out the running time. As is so often the case, the book (yes, there actually was a paperback!) from which the screenplay was adapted, was much better and somewhat racier although, to be fair, the film itself does follow the original story reasonably well - minus the racy parts - and the ending is pretty faithful, though it omits the monster having it's scales pried off with crowbars and then being torched. Believe it or not, there was actually a comic book from Charleton Comics which, after the first few issues, did away with the snake-like appearance of Reptilicus and substituted a far more menacing and grandiose creature. On balance, however, Reptilicus fails to satisfy, due largely to it's modest budget, shoddy production values, crummy acting, and not-always- convincing voiceovers, one of which is done by Robert Cornthwaite, aka Dr. Carrington from Howard Hawks' "The Thing". In sum, "Reptilicus" is the sort of film that's best left to collectors of the genre who, for some unfathomable reason, feel compelled to archive second- and third-rate garbage like this.
Review of Reptilicus
