THE FLESH EATERS
** out of *****

Genres
Horror
Nazis
Sci Fi

1964
Directed by
Jack Curtis
Written by
Arnold Drake
Cast
Martin Kosleck .... Prof. Peter Bartell
Byron Sanders .... Grant Murdoch
Barbara Wilkin .... Jan Letterman
Rita Morley .... Laura Winters
Ray Tudor .... Omar
Christopher Drake .... Matt
Darby Nelson .... Jim
Rita Floyd .... Radio Operator
Warren Houston .... Cab Driver
Barbara Wilson .... Ann
Ira Lewis .... Freddy

A young couple are fooling around on a yacht, an unbearable R&B song is on the radio (remember that this was made when R&B actually meant “Rhythm and Blues”). The man is playful, maybe stoned. The woman is pouty, but only for show. He chases her round the boat. He accidentally rips her bikini top off. She jumps in the water. We see nothing, except her die in a Jaws-like manner (i.e. in the water). Cut to the docks where the sea planes are moored. A drunk actress and her assistant hire a pilot to fly them to the Caribbean so they can make it in time for rehearsals. The pilot agrees for triple his usual fee because they’ll have to out-race a tropical storm.

Behind closed doors deals are made  and flesh is eaten.

It’s a race they don’t win. They’re forced to land on a deserted island and ride the storm out. Well, deserted isn’t the right word since it’s inhabited by one guy and some sort of flesh-eating plankton that floats in the sea. Seamen have nautical terms to describe almost everything, but I’m sure there isn’t one that describe this sort of archipelago arrangement.

That one guy is a strange German scientist (Professor Peter Bartell), who comes wandering out of the sea in scuba gear which, judging by the reaction of our marooned heroes, is supposed to make the Professor look like some sort of monster. He just looks like a guy in scuba gear. The Professor leads them to his tent where they wait for the storm to pass so they can continue their journey. But events conspire against their onward journey (this reminded me of Wellington Airport), and they begin to suspect the Professor is up to something strange. And that flesh-eating plankton arrives. Oh, before the plankton arrives they talk. A lot.

In the permissive 1960s skinny dipping was  taken too far. Just remember that these  people now run the Democratic Party.

Speaking of arrivals, about half way through the film this guy called Omar paddles in on a raft while blasting records on his hi-fi. If you’ve ever wanted to know what a “space cadet” was, Omar is the epitome. He’s the complete tripped out hippy, spouting almost total nonsense about love, and generally perplexing everyone on the island and in my living room (i.e. me and two dogs). It’s so completely out of tone for the film, that it’s strangely marvellous. Imagine you’re watching Se7en and half way through Morgan Freeman gets killed and Brad Pitt’s new partner is Rodney Dangerfield. Totally out of place, but awesome none-the-less. In The Flesh Eaters, which was getting a bit talky, Omar is a welcome burst of life.

In their island wandering strange things are discovered, and this reminded me vaguely of Lost. And some of the long stretches of competent, clichéd character development reminded me exactly of Lost. Other than that the stories are completely different. If you like Lost please don’t rush out and see this and then complain to me.

The Professor's experiments got him  banned from Muscle Beach for six  months.

The script is overall too competent in terms of dialogue and characters to be so bad it’s funny. That’s the job of the special effects and “action” scenes. The acting is solid from the straight characters, and Martin Kosleck does an excellent scientist who’s brilliant with large hints of nutcase. The Flesh Eaters is something for B-movie fans to check out, but it shouldn’t be at the top of the list. Non-genre fans will probably find it silly and boring.

But, despite all that, certain images and feeling from the island will stay with me. Over time they’ll separate from the silly and talky elements of the film and I’ll find myself, over a few beers, waxing lyrical about the island. Then my drinking companion will go and watch it, and ring me to ask what the hell I was talking about. B-movies form a strange universe in your mind.

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