THE GIANT BEHEMOTH: Blu-ray (Allied Artists, 1959) Warner Archive

The creepiest thing about Eugène Lourié’s The Giant Behemoth, a C-grade sci-fi/thriller, made cheaply for Allied Artists in 1959, is not the plasticized, clay-mation dinosaur-derivative, created by Willis H. O’Brien, capping off 80 min. with a gnashing of teeth and sour screams, distorted, but borrowed from 1933’s stop-motion classic, King Kong, but the glacially-appointed 78 min. (or thereabouts) Lourié expertly takes to set up the film’s premise, filling his dead air with very few genuine scares, though an awful lot of atmospheric dread, with superb character actors doing the heavy lifting. The screenplay, co-authored by blacklisted writer, Daniel James and Lourié is based on an original story from Robert Abel and Allen Adler. At its conception, The Giant Behemoth was likely intended to be a cautionary tale about the perils of nuclear testing on unsuspecting plankton and sea life, as there could be no other reason to introduce the analogous blob that washes ashore near Cornwall. It effectively burns to death an old salt, Tom Trevethan (Henry Vidon) with its deadly swirl of light-emitting radiation, and later, almost claims the hand of his daughter, Jean’s (Leigh Madison) strapping sailor/boyfriend, John (John Turner), sending Prof. James Bickford (as Andre Morell) and his scientist/buddy, Steve Karnes (Gene Evans – top-billed) into a minor frenzy to get to the bottom of things before it is too late.  Somewhere along the way, plans for The Giant Behemoth (intermittently references as either Behemoth, the Sea Monster or simply, The Behemoth) were greatly altered, the studio more interested in another Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953 – and a massive hit) than a modern-age parable for man’s blind stupidity in poisoning the planet.  If only Lourié had gravitated to either premise instead of creating a thematic split right down the middle, then The Giant Behemoth might have been a modestly enjoyable camp classic, its nuclear-breathing monster, reigning supreme at the box office.

Alas, Lourié forgot his primary audience – popcorn munchers between the ages of 12 and 16, filling seats for the Saturday matinee. In many ways, The Giant Behemoth plays more successfully to a much older crowd, invested in this fairly engaging assortment of characters, playing it strictly serious. Regrettably, the last six minutes of the movie devolve into precisely the sort of implausible schlock and nonsense, unappealing to anyone beyond their navel-gazing tweens; the looping of scenes depicting terrorized Brits fleeing the aforementioned Gertie the dinosaur knock-off, only to be repeatedly stomped or incinerated to death, so dull and uninspired, one simply wishes the picture had come to a close ten minutes sooner. The biggest problem with The Giant Behemoth is that it desperately wants to be the kind of sci-fi classic that cuts across generations to appeal to everyone, like Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). That it has neither Day’s cache or finesse is regrettable, because what is here is pretty solidly crafted; albeit, with a rather pedestrian verve for dragging on and on…and on, until the audience finally walks out, wakes up, or simply begins to throw a half-empty buckets of sticky corn puff at the screen.

After Edwin Astley’s fairly ominous fanfare, main titles to get sea-sick by, and, a few choice scenes depicting various real-life nuclear tests being conducted (footage, later to turn up in Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove – 1964) our plot begins in earnest with American scientist, Steve Karnes delivering a forewarning to the highly-skeptical British Scientific Society. All but its head, Professor James Bickford, are condescending as Karnes rattles off statistical data to prove a theory; that, an empirical imbalance in radioactive fallout has already begun to mutate ocean plant-life and fish. Bickford believes Karnes, but can do nothing to persuade his colleagues of an imminent danger.  Meanwhile, off the coast of Cornwall, Tom Trevethan and his daughter, Jean, have only just returned from their modest fishing expedition. Jean encourages her father to hurry along. She will go on ahead and begin to prepare their dinner. However, when Jean is just out of range, Tom is afflicted by an unseen force, blinding and severely burning his skin. Several hours have pass. Jean begins to suspect her dad has run off to the local pub for a pint and forgotten the time. Moderately perturbed, Jean dons her shawl and finds her way to the watering hole, casually inquiring whether anyone has seen Tom. Only John offers to help in the search, never anticipating anything is actually wrong.

Alas, John and Jean discover Tom, near death on the beach. Cryptically, he utters the word ‘behemoth’ before expiring. John comforts Jean. However, the next day, after Tom’s burial, Jean and John behold another unholy sight; the beach, strewn with miles of dead fish, all sporting the same burn-like symptoms. Discovering a pulsating analogous blob among the wreckage, John idiotically attempts to pick it up and has the back of his hand severely burned. Meanwhile, as Karnes was preparing for his return to home, he overheard a radio broadcast regarding Tom’s mysterious death and the account of the dead fish. Along with Prof. Bickford, Karnes makes his pilgrimage to Cornwall. More talk, this time with a local doctor (Alastair Hunter) who gets John to show Karnes his hand; then, a thorough investigation of the beach. However, this yields no evidence of radiation poisoning.  Karnes also inspects the wreck of a passenger ship where all aboard were lost. Again, nothing.

Returning to London, Karnes and Bickford deduce from dissecting various specimens collected on the beach that each fish contains exorbitant amounts of radioactive contamination. Karnes deduces that perhaps the ‘behemoth’ referenced by Tom is a marine mammal, genetically mutated from its exposure to nuclear testing. We move to a farm in Essex, revealing a massive footprint in the wet lands near a decimated coastline. Enter paleontologist Dr. Sampson (Jack McGowran), who identifies the imprint as belonging to a paleosaurus, an aquatic dinosaur long thought to be extinct, but now, speculated to be emitting electric pulses, just like an eel. Karnes is certain the paleosaurus has been poisoned by radiation. In essence, this creature microwaved Tom to death, along with the other victims. Karnes deduces that while the nuclear mutation has given this creature extraordinary powers, it is also slowly killing it.  Dr. Samson concurs; the ailing creature is heading into shallower waters to die. Regrettably, it may not expire before wreaking havoc on London. Karnes and Bickford desperately plead with city officials to close the Thames. Bureaucracy, however, is a curious beast unto itself, and on advice from the military, the government firmly believes their radar tracking will provide the necessary window of opportunity and time to detect the behemoth and prevent it from getting anywhere near downtown London. Unfortunately, the paleosaurus is invisible to radar. Sampson spots it from his bird’s eye view aboard a Royal Navy helicopter. However, as the radar equipment does not bear out his claim, the pilot (Neil Hallett) dives nearer the water’s surface to get a better look. The behemoth emerges, destroying the helicopter and killing all aboard.  

It does not take long for the creature to resurface in the Thames, where it capsizes the Woolwich Ferry. Rising from the waters, the creature paralyzes the city in fear; masses, fleeing in all directions as it continues the rampage of destruction, flattening cars and knocking down buildings. Bickford and Karnes advise that the only way to kill the behemoth is to administer a dose of radium that will accelerate its radiation sickness. Even as they prepare to inoculate the monster, it plummets through London Bridge, disappearing beneath the waters. Karnes and Bickford employ a mini-sub with its very reluctant officer (Maurice Kaufmann) to navigate and launch a radium-loaded torpedo at the monster. During their initial pass, the behemoth assaults the sub, puncturing its air-tight valves. As water begins to spray into the cabin, a second pass is needed to get the job done. This time, they succeed - the loaded torpedo fired directly into the behemoth’s mouth. From their relatively safe position, Karnes and Bickford observe as the monster writhes and eventually sinks beneath the surface for good. It is a shallow victory, as Karnes and Bickford prepare to leave, but overhear a radio report of dead fish washing up all along on the eastern shores of the United States. Could there be another behemoth lurking somewhere beneath the Atlantic waves?

The live-action scenes for The Giant Behemoth were all shot on location in Great Britain, including London; matte plates too, to be incorporated into the stop-motion animation, photographed in Los Angeles. Given Willis O’Brien’s superior work on The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, his work on The Giant Behemoth is more than a tad underwhelming. Perhaps budgetary restrictions were partly to blame. But the effects here, boil down to a lot of repeat shots of the behemoth’s snout, roaring into camera, expelling a curious mist and, when other effects are layered on top, a brightly-lit swirl, meant to suggest pulverizing radioactive energy. In its original cut, The Giant Behemoth - was given the dreaded ‘X’ certificate by the British Board of Film Censors – although, as the version we have today is precisely as originally intended – one sincerely wonders what all the fuss was about. Cropped by a few minutes, the picture was reassessed with an ‘A’ certificate and rechristened Behemoth: The Sea Monster. Viewed today, The Giant Behemoth is about as corny and quaint as fifties sci-fi gets. Although there is not a star among this lot of players, everyone here is doing their utmost to convince us such fanciful reptiles from the deep are not only plausible, but already here to conquer our world. The film’s plot is suspiciously similar to The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, albeit, staged in a different country with alternate theories of how the monster came into being. Evidently, Eugène Lourié was hoping to rekindle the magic from that aforementioned money-maker. It didn’t happen.  

Things improve – marginally – with the Warner Archive’s hi-def reincarnation of The Giant Behemoth on Blu-ray. As with every deep catalog release WAC commits to, the image quality here could not be better. WAC has given us a pluperfect B&W image; widescreen, with excellent contrast and tonality in its gray scale. Fans of this sci-fi potboiler will not be disappointed. Fine details abound. The image is both brightly lit and free of age-related artifacts. The audio is DTS mono and adequate for this presentation. We get an audio commentary ported over from the DVD release, hosted by SFX artists, Dennis Muren and Phil Tippett. Note to WAC for future audio commentaries: can we at least get commentary from people who actually like the movie they are reviewing? Just a thought. Muren and Tippett are all over the place on this one – taking down the picture and its cast and crew to the point where their comments come off as crass, arrogant and unoriginal ball-bashing. Every so often we get a pregnant pause that, in hindsight, is a genuine blessing. But when Muren and Tippett return, they seem either ill-prepared, or worse, stark-raving bored to be sitting through this feature. Muren admits to knowing next to nothing about Lourie's body of work. Okay. But neither Muren or Tippett knew even where The Giant Behemoth was shot. Basic knowledge, boys. When in doubt, there’s always Wikipedia!   Bottom line: The Giant Behemoth is disposable entertainment – yes – but Muren and Tippett’s commentary makes it sound much worse than it actually is. Again, to WAC: just get someone who cares enough about the movie to be a credible commentator on it. Lack of passion is one thing. But these guys were utterly clueless – and painful in their lack of knowledge. Pass and be very glad that you did.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

1