Sunday, October 5, 2025

The Killer Shrews (1959)

Even though it's always been tied to The Giant Gila Monster, as they were shot back-to-back in Texas by the same producers and director, and have often been released together on various home video formats over the years, I knew of and had seen Gila Monster long before I even heard of The Killer Shrews. I'm sure the main reason why I even learned of it to begin with was both because of that connection, and because we finally got the internet at our house not long before I first saw Gila Monster. In addition, The Killer Shrews was mentioned briefly in The Horror Movie Survival Guide, which I got when I was fourteen, and it very briefly described the monsters themselves. I then went through a phase of wanting to look up every movie mentioned in that book on IMDB (and I actually got pretty far into it), and that was where I first learned that the shrews were, for the most part, actually just dogs dressed up in costume. And I can remember an Animal Planet special when I was in high school that played around with both movies, explaining why they were scientifically impossible, and that's where I first saw clips of the shrews and realized how laughable they looked. I finally saw the movie itself when, for Christmas in 2008, I got a DVD double feature of both it and The Giant Gila Monster, which had both the classic black-and-white versions and newly colorized ones. It's probably because I have a personal history with the latter but, since then, I've always felt it was the better of the two; in fact, I've never been a big fan of The Killer Shrews. When I first did this review, I gave it the label of "B to Z Movies," mainly out of obligation given its cult status, but now, I have to be honest and admit that I don't get much enjoyment out of it. Like something by Ed Wood or Roger Corman during this period, you can tell that it was made for very little money, shot entirely in one very sparse location, and the filmmakers had to make due with some very low-rent special effects to create the monsters. On the one hand, I always admire those who just go for it, despite the odds against them, but on the other hand, there are many other bad movies that I enjoy way more than this. Truth be told, I've always found The Killer Shrews to be rather dull for the most part, especially during its first half. With few exceptions, I don't care much for the actors, and the monsters, as delightfully cheesy as they are, and despite how surprisingly effective they sometimes come off, don't do much for me in the long run.

Blue-collar supply captain Thorne Sherman and his first mate, Rook Griswold, head to a tiny, remote island to deliver some supplies to a research compound. However, with a hurricane coming, they opt to wait until the next day to unload, planning to ride out the storm in a cove on the island's eastern side. Once ashore, they're met by Dr. Marlowe Craigis, the island's owner, his lovely daughter, Ann, and her fiance and Craigis' assistant, Jerry Farrell. Craigis asks that, once they've delivered the cargo, they take Ann with them when they leave. However, they seem shocked when Thorne says they're not leaving or even unloading until the next day; as they've been out of contact with the outside world for more than a week, the group had no idea about the oncoming hurricane. Thorne, however, joins them when they head back to the compound, while Rook opts to stay with the boat. At the compound, Thorne meets Mario, a manservant, and Craigis' other assistant, Radford Baines. Craigis explains the nature of his research to Thorne, which is to find a way to decrease the size of humans and lower their metabolism to curb the impact of overpopulation. He uses shrews as part of his research due to their short lifespan and high metabolism. There's also some definite tension in the air, mainly from Jerry, who's jealous of how friendly Ann is getting with Thorne. With the storm getting closer, he opts to get back to his boat, but Ann stops him. It turns out that the island is crawling with hundreds of wolf-sized shrews, a byproduct of the experiments, and they hunt for food at night. With their main food supply dwindling, the voracious monsters are out to to eat anything they can find, be it livestock or humans. Once night falls, the shrews kill Rook when he comes ashore, and also dig into the compound's barn and devour the livestock. Now the group must hold up inside the house and try to survive the night, then attempt to escape the next day.

The two people behind the inception of both The Killer Shrews and The Giant Gila Monster were Ken Curtis, who not only later became iconic as Festus on Gunsmoke but also acts here as Jerry Farrell, and Gordon McLendon, who's best known for his contributions to radio (he also acts here, as Radford Baines). He's credited with popularizing the Top 40 radio format, as well as the idea of all-news programming, and was also known for his very conservative political views, as well as for allegedly having connections to Jack Ruby, who killed Lee Harvey Oswald, and David Atlee Phillips, a suspect in the assassination of John F. Kennedy. In any case, McLendon's foray into movie producing was a complete lark, as he only has a small handful of producing credits to his name. Since he wrote ad-copy for American-International Pictures when working as a broadcaster, and also owned a number of theaters across the South, predominantly drive-ins, he knew how profitable low budget horror flicks tended to be and thus, was inspired to try his hand at it. While he never spoke much about the movies in his later years, when he did, he always reminded people that both of them did spectacular business, given how tiny their budgets were (around $123,000 or so).

Ironically, for a pair of movies that are often mocked for their cheapness and laughable special effects work, they were both directed by a veteran visual effects artist, Ray Kellogg. Moreover, Kellogg worked for and was the head of 20th Century Fox's special effects unit for many years, working on movies such as The Robe, The Seven Year Itch, The King and I, The Last Wagon, and Love Me Tender, among many, many others. He was also acquainted with John Ford, as during World War II, Kellogg, ranking as a Navy Lieutenant, worked as a cameraman for the O.S.S. Field Photographing Branch, which Ford headed. Given his experience with photographic effects, he was likely hired to direct these films because he'd know how to create monsters on the cheap. And while, like Curtis and McLendon's producing forays, his directing career didn't amount to much, Kellogg was hardly hurting for work after The Killer Shrews and The Giant Gila Monster were behind him.

Even for a movie of this kind during this period, the characters in The Killer Shrews are very bland. Veteran actor James Best, who would later in life make no bones about how he felt the film was "a piece of garbage," does what he can with the lead role of Captain Thorne Sherman, though the character doesn't give him much to grasp on to. Still, while he wasn't the absolute greatest, Best was one of those actors who had enough charisma to make it work well enough. A blue-collar working man, Thorne couldn't care less about what's going on at the island or who's behind it. Having recently bought a shipping run from another captain, he and his first mate, Rook Griswold, are just there to unload the cargo and get paid, but have to stay overnight due to an oncoming hurricane (why they didn't just wait a couple of days until the hurricane passed is anyone's guess). Though immediately suspicious about the group's reaction when he tells them he's not going to unload or leave until the next day, as well as about Jerry Farrell carrying around a shotgun when they first meet him, Thorne, regardless, doesn't turn down an offer to join them at the compound for a drink. There, he detects that Ann Craigis is upset about something more than her not being able to leave with him and Rook until the next day, and also senses some hostility from Jerry, especially where Ann is concerned. Dr. Craigis himself explains the purpose of their research, and that it revolves around the common shrew, although a lot of it goes over Thorne's head. As tensions start to boil over, and with the hurricane almost upon them, he decides to go back to his boat, only for Ann to pull a gun on him. He easily manages to convince her to put it away, and that's when she tells him about the enormous killer shrews that are roaming the island. Surprisingly, Thorne doesn't question what he's told, and then learns how they were created, as well as that they're becoming more and more dangerous due to their natural food supply running out. And it isn't long before they become trapped in the house by the shrews, and have to wade out both them and the storm. Predictably, Thorne has to take charge and try to protect everyone, but also has to deal with Jerry's growing jealousy and instability.

Ann Craigis (Ingrid Goude) is, without a doubt, one of the blandest and most uninteresting female leads in any 50's monster flick. A zoologist working with her father on his experiments, she's desperate to get off the island now that the shrews are out of control, and is not thrilled when Thorne arrives and says he and Rook aren't leaving until the next day due to the hurricane. Thus, when they're back at the compound, she grows increasingly nervous as it gets closer to nightfall, jumping at every loud sound. Moreover, because he proved to be a selfish coward the night before, when the shrews attacked them, and also because she believes he's convinced her father not to leave, Ann has decided that her engagement to Jerry is off, though he isn't having it. She immediately becomes interested in Thorne, keeping him at the house to save him from the shrews, but also because she says she feels safer with him around. For the rest of the movie, she doesn't do much of note, except occasionally scream when things get hairy. They try to make her something of a deep character by having her, at one point, talk about how the wind has a "lonely sound" and inquire as to why Thorne is such an incurious person, as well as feel guilty about having a hand in creating the shrews following Mario's death, swearing to have no part in this kind of work anymore, but it doesn't amount to anything. And the romance between her and Thorne is as one-dimensional as anything you see in these types of flicks.

Dr. Marlowe Craigis (Baruch Lumet, the father of famed director Sidney Lumet), is also really bland. He's not a mad scientist whatsoever, as he doesn't relish in what he's unleashed or accomplished, and instead simply seeks to stay on the island and fulfill his experiments to decrease the overpopulation problem, despite the danger. He admits to Thorne that this is why he never contacted the authorities, seeing the killer shrews as just the expected "unusual results" of work such as his. However, by the time we get to the third act, he does regret this decision. Otherwise, he's just one of the typical authoritative, old scientist characters you often get in these movies, and a very unremarkable one at that. All he does is spew out endless technobabble about the nature of his experiments, as well as the shrews, both the normal ones and the mutations. He also, for the most part, never acts as concerned about the shrew attacks and the deaths as he should. Really, it's only when Radford Baines dies and the shrews start breaking in left and right that he truly realizes the danger they're in.

If you only know Ken Curtis as Festus, you'll really see him play against type as Jerry Farrell, Ann's drunken asshole of an ex-fiance. He's antagonistic towards Thorne virtually from the get-go, and only grows more jealous when he starts getting cozy with Ann. It turns out that it's Jerry's fault that the shrews are loose on the island, as he was drunk and left their cage door open, something he's growing tired of being blamed for. He's also a coward and won't hesitate to let someone else die in order to save his own skin, something he almost did to Ann the previous night, when they got attacked by the shrews. Regardless, he's determined to complete the experiments with Dr. Craigis, no matter what, and possibly convinced him to stay on the island, despite the danger. As expected, he's not willing to let Ann go, telling her, "In my book, an engagement isn't a casual thing." He later mentions to Radford Baines that it would be "better for the project" if he left with Ann for a few days. As the night goes on, he gets more and more drunk, as well as volatile and irresponsible. He slugs Thorne in the face to stop him from opening the gate to the fence around the house's front when he thinks he hears Rook outside, and also gets Mario to take his turn patrolling the house. When Mario is killed down in the basement by a shrew that got inside, Jerry is too cowardly to help the others see to him. Things come to a boiling point when Thorne and Jerry go down to the shore to signal for Rook, and Jerry threatens Thorne with his shotgun, saying he'll kill him if he doesn't stay away from Ann. Thorne manages to disarm him, but later, when the shrews attack and they rush back to the compound, Jerry locks him out of the gate. Thorne climbs over the fence, beats Jerry senseless, and almost throws him to the shrews. He opts not to, but later probably wishes he had, as during the climax, Jerry grows more and more hysterical and sniffly, with Thorne having to literally slap him out of a fit he goes into when Baines is killed. In the end, he refuses to go along with their plan to escape and stays behind. He then falls prey to the shrews when he makes an ill-fated run for it (that is, unless you want to count Return of the Killer Shrews, but we'll get to that tomorrow).

Even though he was later dismissive of his brief turn as an actor here, Gordon McLendon actually has an interesting role as Dr. Radford Baines, Craigis' other assistant. Baines comes off as so focused on the experiment that he often doesn't hear other people talking to him, as he just barely acknowledges Thorne when Craigis introduces him. Moreover, when Craigis tells him that there's a hurricane coming, Baines absentmindedly comments, "Well, I don't suppose there's much we can do about that." (Craigis then tells Thorne that, as brilliant as Baines is, "He'd starve to death if someone didn't remind him to eat.") He's so preoccupied with his work that he not only gets excited by how "successful" their experiment is, but also how adaptive the killer shrews prove to be, despite the danger it means for them. When they discover that Mario died because the shrews have poisonous saliva, which came about from an attempt to kill them off, Baines enthusiastically surmises, "The system of the Sorex enabled them to assimilate that poison. It remained in the salivary glands of their jaws. Isn't that wonderful?!" But then, he remembers that someone is dead and remorsefully says, "Oh, I am sorry. Of course, I always speak from the clinical point of view." Despite this mindset, though, he does prove to have some humanity. When Jerry complains about Ann wanting her father to leave the island, Baines says he thinks it's perfectly reasonable for her to feel that way. And when Thorne almost feeds Jerry to the shrews, Baines yells for Craigis to stop him, which makes Thorne come to his senses. But Baines still proves to be scientifically curious to the bitter end. After he's bitten on the leg by a shrew that lunges from the kitchen, he insists that it just ripped his trousers, then sits down at his typewriter and types out the symptoms he's feeling, right up to when he keels over, dead.

One character I wish was in the movie longer is Thorne's first mate, Rook Griswold (Judge Henry Dupree). His portrayal is very stereotypical, especially in his voice, and there's not much to him overall, but during his brief amount of screentime, he comes off as a funny, likable guy. He and Thorne also have a good working relationship. At the beginning, when they're heading to the island, talking about what they're going to do about the oncoming hurricane, Thorne sarcastically remarks, "You know something? If this thing had an automatic pilot, I wouldn't have to put up with you." Rook responds, "Then, you wouldn't have nobody to chew out," and adds, "Look, automatic pilots can't play Dixieland jazz on them engines like I can." Upon arriving and meeting the group, Rook opts to go back to the boat, while Thorne heads to the compound with them. Unfortunately, Rook is the first one to die when he comes ashore that night, as the shrews corner and tear him apart.

Finally, there's Mario (Alfred DeSoto), the compound's Spanish manservant. Not much to say about him, and like with Rook, his portrayal is rather stereotypical, in that he's a chubby guy with the expected accent, speaks only a smattering of English, and is the one who fixes the martinis that the characters drink. He's also gullible enough for Jerry to talk him into taking his turn in patrolling the house after nightfall, but smart enough to warn Thorne when he realizes a shrew got into the house and went down to the cellar. But, ultimately, he's the type of character in these movies that, as soon as you see him, you know he's lunch meat, and sure enough, he's the second one to die, when he and Thorne go down into the basement after the shrew.

I'm not sure where this island is supposed to be in the context of the film, but in reality, the shooting location was at Gordon McClendon's 100-acre Cielo Ranch, outside of Dallas, while the shots of the "ocean" are actually Lewisville Lake. Like the cast, the setting is very limited, with just the compound and the barren forest surrounding it. Actually, the "compound" is little more than a typical house, with just a handful of fairly barren rooms: a living room, some bedrooms, a kitchen, a very small room which
is where much of the research work is done, and the basement, where the food for the shrews is kept. Part of me likes how ordinary the place looks, as well as how isolated it is, and the woods give it a charmingly "homegrown" feel. At the same time, though, this location is so unremarkable, and it makes me wish they'd had the ability to shoot somewhere a little more exotic. The house and compound are so small that it makes you wonder how they're able to get any sort of meaningful research done, and where the initial killer shrews were contained before Jerry stupidly let them
out. They have livestock kept in a barn, but where that barn is in relation to the house is never made clear. Going back to the house, a wooden fence built around its front door and a section of the yard, full of various crates and boxes, is all they have to keep the shrews out. That proves to not be nearly enough, as one shrew takes advantage of a broken window in the kitchen (that window is on the inside of the fence, so it somehow managed to get around that obstacle when all of others couldn't). And, as Thorne warns, after the house's adobe walls are made soft by the storm, the
shrews become more adapt at clawing their way inside. Finally, while they do have a radio antenna, they never use it, claiming it's damaged beyond repair, but more likely, it is intact but they don't want the authorities to get involved and ruin their experiment.

Ray Kellogg's direction is certainly nothing to write home about, and in some prints, the nighttime exteriors, which were done day-for-night, are so dark that it can be hard to see what's happening, like when Rook gets cornered and killed by the shrews. The direction and editing are also a bit lax in some spots, such as in the case of the shrew that gets into the house during the night. After a shot of the shrews trying to get around the wooden fence, followed by one of the house's windows getting knocked open by
a falling branch, we cut to Jerry drunkenly talking to Mario, convincing him to take his turn in patrolling the house. Mario leaves the room, the film cuts back to the window and, in rapid succession, we see a shrew inside the kitchen, a shot of its head up against the door leading into the living room, and it heading down to the basement. The really dim lighting, combined with the fast editing, can make it hard to register what you saw, especially since the close-up of the shrew's head looks like it's from the shot of them
outside the fence, which was seen earlier. And while Mario is patrolling, we see a cutaway of the shrew hiding under the stairs that lead down to the cellar, ruining a chance for some suspense. It would've been more effective to leave that out and go with what happens next: Mario discovers that a shrew is in the house when he hears it down in the basement and sees the open window, and goes to get Thorne to help him investigate. Also, after the shrew attacks Mario and Thorne is binding his wound, it cuts to Dr.Craigis, Dr. Baines, and Jerry entering the kitchen and walking to

the cellar door, having heard the commotion. However, like those jump-cuts in The Screaming Skull, there are versions where the editing is very choppy, going from a quick shot of the men entering the kitchen to their suddenly standing at the cellar door. This has been fixed in some of the more recent, high-definition releases (along with other errors in the film and audio editing), although you may still see a sudden jump in the middle of the shot, and the music may also briefly cut out.

I feel like I've said this a lot already, and I'm probably going to say it a lot more before we're through this month, but I find The Killer Shrews to be a pretty boring movie. That's especially true of the first half, which mostly consists of just the characters milling around inside the house, talking about this and that, while drinking martinis, or the scientists continuing their research. While we do first see the shrews when they kill Rook here, before they go after the livestock, these moments are so quick and darkly-photographed
that they don't leave much of an impact. And while we do have some capable actors here, like James Best and Ken Curtis, they're not talented enough to keep me from wishing the movie would get on with it. It doesn't help that sections of dialogue can be hard to decipher, due to some of the accents, the scientific jargon, and how quick the actors tend to talk (all three often make it hard for me to discern what Dr. Craigis is talking about). Then, when the characters hunker down for the night, trying to survive the hurricane and the shrews, it's still pretty slow-going, with Mario
wandering around the house with a flashlight, stopping to talk with Jerry, and discovering that a shrew got in and is down in the basement. As I said, him and Thorne searching the basement had the opportunity for some suspense, but not only is it ruined by the film telegraphing where exactly the shrew is hiding down there, but the music score for that scene is very ill-advised. The film doesn't improve much afterward, as there's still a lot more talking and not much action, and the shrews themselves are, mostly, just good for a laugh and never come across as a serious threat.

But, as usual, I have to be fair and admit that there are some good points to the film. During the build-up to the hurricane's arrival, Ray Kellogg manages to create a bit of atmosphere, with the howling wind, the rustling tree branches, and the ominous shots of the sky, with the clouds rolling in. Also, when the storm knocks the power out qt the house, the dim lighting during the second act, when everyone's asleep and Mario is walking around with his flashlight, is kind of creepy, helped by the flashing lightning (even if it is
a bit too dark at points). And late in the third act, there's an effective jump-scare when Ann opens the kitchen door, and one of several shrews that got in the night before suddenly lunges out and delivers the fatal bite to Dr. Baines. Most notably, the film makes a small commentary on the topic of overpopulation. Not only is Dr. Craigis' ultimate objective for his experiments to curb this problem around the world, but the island itself will soon become a microcosm of the situation and one of its possible end results, with the shrews eating all the food and then resorting to

cannibalism. At the end, when Thorne, Ann, and Dr. Craigis have made it to Thorne's boat, Craigis says that within 24 hours, there will be only one shrew left on the island and he'll soon die of starvation. (Not that it matters to Thorne: before kissing Ann, he tells Craigis, "I'm not going to worry about overpopulation just yet.")

As laughable as the idea sounds when you first hear it, and the movie's execution certainly doesn't help, a horde of mutant, dog-sized shrews should actually be quite terrifying. Early on, when Craigis and Baines show Thorne a normal shrew, Craigis explains how voracious they can be, due to their high metabolism requiring them to eat three times their own weight every day. He says they'll go after anything when they're hungry enough, including each other, and will even eat the bones for the marrow. So, when you
imagine several hundred of these creatures, each about the size of a wolf, and with all the traits of the regular one, they should come off as a real threat to those stuck on the island with them. However, it never feels that way. If there are actually 200 or 300 of them, and they've eaten everything else on the island except the people, you'd expect for the entire house to be surrounded, rather than the three or four we see clawing and jumping at the fence at a time. Also, they're so desperate for food that they've
stopped trying to avoid the sun, like usual, and come out in the daytime during the latter half. Again, you should see a lot more of them during those scenes but, obviously because of budget constraints, it's not possible. Thus, it might've been more effective if they didn't say there were hundreds of them. And if they are this hungry, we should see them attempting to eat each other, as Craigis said they would, instead of concentrating on just one specific food source. The filmmakers try to give the shrews the added threat of poisonous saliva, a byproduct of a previous attempt to

kill them off, and Craigis says they're so toxic that even a mere scratch means death within seconds, as happens to Mario and Baines. But, it doesn't come into play except for those two isolated incidents; after that, it's almost immediately dropped and the characters are, again, mostly trying to avoid getting eaten.

Like a lot of these 50's B-movies, The Killer Shrews begins with an opening narration that tries to hype up how dangerous the monsters are (said narration is delivered by Gordon McLendon, something he would also do for The Giant Gila Monster). Mostly, it's meaningless, the narrator doesn't tell us anything about actual shrews that Craigis doesn't tell Thorne during the first act, but then, he ends it with this line: "In March, first in Alaska, and then invading steadily southward, there were reports of a new species: the giant killer shrew." This is probably an example of the filmmakers writing something just for the sake of it, as the movie doesn't take place anywhere near Alaska, and it's confined entirely to the island, with the shrews not being able to swim.

Given the limitations of the budget, you can forgive the lack of convincing effects for the killer shrews themselves, but they're definitely what assured this flick its place in bad movie history. Shockingly, the shrews are most effective when they're portrayed through hand-puppets. They don't stand up to scrutiny at all, as they're very stiff, but upon re-watching the film, I realized that the puppets are used rather smartly, mostly for shots of the shrews' heads up against and through the slats in the fence, trying to get
at the characters through the slits in the metal drums they use as shields during the climax, or when they're digging through the house's walls. There are full-on close-ups of them, for sure, but most don't last much longer than a few seconds, and those partially obscured shots of the puppets are effectively creepy in some instances, with their constantly snapping jaws, black, lifeless eyes, and the freakish sounds they make, which sound like high-pitched chattering and screeching. When the dogs in suits are used, however, forget it. They sometimes speed up the film to make
them come off as more uncanny, but it's still obvious from their body language that they're more than likely playing or trying to play with their "victims" as opposed to killing them (Ken Curtis said that he had a hard time taking it seriously). When they manage to get into the house during the third act, two of them appear to get into a fight, but they could've also just been playing, with the sped up film making it look more violent.

Makeup effects-wise, there are some nasty wounds that we see the shrews leave on their victims, like when the one attacks and bites Mario on the leg down in the basement, and when Baines gets mortally wounded during the third act. Also, when the shrew in the basement, after being shot by Mario, starts to get back up while Thorne is tending to his wound, he shoots it one more time for good measure, and you see it lay its head down in a bit of blood. It also leaves a bit of a streak of it behind when Baines takes its body upstairs. And when Thorne and Jerry make their way down to the water the next day, they find some bloody remains of Rook's clothes.

Speaking of which, after the really slow first half, and the wasted potential of the one shrew getting into the house and killing Mario down in the basement, the film starts to pick up during its last twenty or so minutes. In order to get down to the water, Thorne has them place the dead shrew outside the wall and see if the others have reached the point to where they'll come in daylight. No shrews show up, and upon looking over the top of the fence and seeing that the forest is completely empty, Thorne opts to go down to
the water and give an all-clear signal for the others when the boat is ready to go. Much to his chagrin, he has to take Jerry with him, armed with his shotgun. On the way, Jerry threatens Thorne, telling him to stay away from Ann. When he then threatens to feed him to the shrews on top of shooting him, Thorne manages to disarm and knock him to the ground. Once Jerry gets to his feet, they continue on, unaware that they're being stalked by the shrews. Reaching the shoreline, they see that the boat is out in the bay, but Thorne gets no response when he shouts and whistles
for Rook. He opts to look for him, while Jerry, who's too afraid to head back to the house, and is unable to swim to the boat, has no choice but to follow him; Thorne, understandably, isn't keen on giving him a gun. (As they search, they walk past a rowboat, which doesn't seem to be damaged, but they pay it no mind, nor do they mention it.) They don't get far before Thorne finds Rook's gun and pieces of his shirt, and they then hear the shrews nearby. Thorne says they've been trailed on both sides, and reluctantly gives Jerry his revolver, warning him not to run. But they, again, only take a few steps before Jerry panics when he hears the shrews and runs off, with Thorne trailing behind him. 

Jerry runs back to the compound, yelling for the others to open the gate, and firing at the shrews as they come running across a nearby field. Once inside, he refuses to let Thorne in, despite Craigis attempting to pry him away from the gate. Shooting one of the approaching shrews with the shotgun, Thorne then tosses it over the top of the fence and climbs in. Seeing him, Jerry tries to excuse himself by yelling, "The shrews were out there! I couldn't take a chance!" But Thorne isn't having it. He jumps at Jerry, pinning
him to the ground, then pulls him up and punches him in the gut, then the face. Falling back, Jerry grabs a pole and swings at Thorne, but Thorne manages to easily dodge him, then knocks him back, disarming him, and punching him repeatedly. Once he's unconscious, Thorne picks him up, puts him across his shoulders, and climbs up to the top of the fence, planning to throw him to the shrews. (This whole scene is very similar to the moment in Night of the Living Dead when Cooper won't let Ben back into the house, and when he does get back in, he beats Cooper
senseless. The only difference is that Ben says he ought to feed Cooper to the zombies, whereas Thorne almost goes through with it.) Baines, who's watching from a window, along with Ann, tells Craigis to stop Thorne. But when he sees that they're both horrified at what he's about to do, Thorne opts not to do it. He instead lays Jerry down and goes back into the house, with Craigis helping Jerry in a few seconds later. 

Shortly afterward, when Ann goes to the kitchen to make everyone some coffee, another shrew that got in the night before lunges out and gets Baines on the leg. When it comes back around for another attack, Thorne manages to kill it with his own revolver. Baines, insisting that he's fine, sits down at the typewriter and starts pounding away at the keys. Jerry, who's now drunk and freaked out, stupidly grabs the gun and fires at the kitchen door, as there are other shrews in there. Baines then collapses from
the effects of the poisonous saliva, and Thorne has to deal with Jerry, who's becoming increasingly hysterical as a result. Ann then sees that another shrew is digging through the living room wall, below the window, and warns Thorne of this. He and Craigis pull the couch in front of the hole to block it, when another starts digging through the wall to the left of the drapes. Jerry quickly pushes the small liquor bar in front of it, and reinforces it with everything he can get his hands on. The shrews start digging in from elsewhere, and Thorne has everyone run outside to

the patio in the fenced-off yard. They start clamoring for stuff to use to climb up onto the roof, as the shrews invade the house. Finding some empty, fifty-gallon chemical drums, Thorne opts to use them as tanks, tying and welding them together, as well as making eye-slits in their fronts, so they can duck-walk under them to the shoreline. At one point, as they're building this contraption, a shrew starts to claw its way through one of the house's windows, but Thorne manages to drive it back with the blowtorch, and Craigis and Jerry board the window up.

Once their makeshift tank is ready to go, the group run into a problem when, in a panic, Jerry climbs up onto the house's roof and refuses to come down, despite their pleas. Craigis is unwilling to leave him, but when they see more shrews burrowing out from inside the house, they realize they have no choice. The three of them get under the drums and make their way to the gate. Thorne opens it and the shrews outside come running, biting at the eye-holes. Jerry watches as the shrews follow after the others into the
woods, keeping pace with and trying to get at them however they can, primarily through the slits. The heavy drums prove to be quite hard for them to carry (the actors really were the ones who did this, incidenntally), but they decide to grin and bear it, with Thorne warning them that the shrews will flip the drums over if they get their heads under them. Meanwhile, Jerry, seeing that the surrounding woods are apparently clear, climbs down from the roof and runs out the gate. He doesn't get far before more
shrews come running. He fires at them, but trips over a log and they're then on him within seconds. Elsewhere, the shrews are still relentlessly pursuing the others, with one managing to grab and yank off one of Ann's boots; otherwise, she remains unharmed. Right after that, Thorne has to deal with a shrew that sticks its head underneath his drum, promptly shooting it. They continue on, heading down a slope, with the shrews staying with them. Just when Ann is about to say she doesn't have the strength to continue on, they see sand at their feet and realize they've just
about reached the shoreline. They head on, walking into the shallows, prompting the shrews to give up the chase and run away. Just to be safe, they keep walking until the water comes up under the drums and reaches their necks, after which they swim for the boat. They easily reach it and climb aboard, ending with the typical sort of Hollywood ending as Thorne kisses Ann.

When I re-watched The Killer Shrews for this, the opening title music, by the film's two composers, Harry Bluestone and Emil Cadkin, which is this big, bombastic fanfare, sounded awfully familiar. Then, I realized this music was used during the intro for Fantastic Dinosaurs of the Movies, that compilation VHS tape from my childhood that I've mentioned numerous times! I can see no other reason for this other than that music must've been cheap to license, being from a public domain film. (Funnily enough, while The Killer Shrews itself, obviously, was not featured in that compilation, its sibling film, The Giant Gila Monster, was.) In any case, the music is pretty unremarkable for the most part, and sometimes, it counteracts what the film is going for. As I alluded to earlier, the scene down in the basement is scored very inappropriately, with music that's not only too loud and overblown for what should be low-key and suspenseful, but also sounds downright silly, as if the composers weren't taking it seriously. Still, the music for much of the stuff during the third act works fine enough, but it's very typical 1950's monster movie music.

The Killer Shrews is undeniably a bad movie. Most of the actors are bland and forgettable, the limited location isn't much to write home about, the monsters are not as threatening as they should be, the direction is passable but nothing amazing, the editing and cinematography sometimes make it hard to tell what's going on, the music score is meh, and the movie is very dull, for the most part. I remember reading that Stephen King once said that he thinks this is actually a pretty scary film. As much as I respect King, and anybody who does enjoy this flick, I don't see how anyone could be scared of it. (But, what do I know? I was scared of The Blob for years!) If you think I absolutely hate it, though, I want to make it clear that I actually don't. As I've said, I can find things to like, such as James Best and Ken Curtis, some surprisingly atmospheric moments, some effective moments with the shrews themselves, and a little bit of commentary on overpopulation. But, it's not a movie that I watch that often. To me, Ray Kellogg's other monster movie, The Giant Gila Monster, while still quite schlocky in its own right, is a better film. I'll talk about it, but in a few days, because if you thought that we were done with The Killer Shrews, you're very mistaken.

No comments:

Post a Comment