While searching for oil in the deadly swamplands of the Florida Everglades, members of a geological expedition meet an insane doctor who is working on an experiment to create a creature that is part man and part alligator.
Deep in the rural swamps of Texas the mad Dr. Simond Trent is conducting experiments on the local swamp people in an attempt to discover the secret of evolution. When a party of oil surveyors comes upon his isolated laboratory he decides to take the final step and turn one of them into a grotesque amphibious creature.Written by
Jeremy Lunt <email@example.com>
Director Larry Buchanan later went on record saying, "Never make a swamp picture. Your film comes back and it's all . . . strange". See more »
Doctor, I was thinking... just the work that you've done with the crocodiles and taking them back along the evolutionary path and making them into fish would be enough to win you world acclaim.
Dr. Simond Trent:
Yes, but acclaim... that's nothing. To create life, to move it up and down the evolutionary path... that's something. Something I don't you quite appreciate, Tom.
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Although Dr. Simon Trent, in the 1966 shlock classic "Curse of the Swamp Creature," is a completely obnoxious, homicidal, bullying madman, you've got to at least give him credit for one thing: He keeps his pet alligators well fed! Every time one of his experiments on evolution reversal or possibly the creation of an artificially gilled fishman (I'm not quite clear on this point) goes awry--which is pretty darn often, actually--his human test subject gets tossed into his front-yard gator pool. A production of American International Television (was this thing actually a TV movie?!?!), this lame little cheapie is a real challenge to sit through. No wonder star John Agar, here a geologist looking for oil near Trent's bayou retreat, seems to be having difficulty keeping his eyes open. Cult actress Francine York is on hand, too, playing Trent's captive wife, and her many charms are mostly wasted here. The film is only 80 minutes long, and yet still feels padded with endless shots of voodoo dancers, alligators, and swamp cruising. Throw in a singularly lame-looking monster who only appears in the picture's final five minutes, the lamest quicksand scene ever committed to film, remarkably poor dialogue, egregious day-for-night shots, incessantly annoying voodoo drumming, and completely uninspired direction by Larry Buchanan and you've got the makings of a real swamp mess indeed. My beloved "Psychotronic Encyclopedia" says that this movie is "an all-time favorite of American insomniacs," and I think I now understand why. This snoozer should put anyone to sleep!
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