Beware the giant octo-cyclops!
‘Monster From the Ocean Floor: Special Edition’
Film Masters
$24.95 (Blu-ray), $19.95 (DVD)
64 minutes plus special features
Not rated
By Mark Voger, author
‘Futuristic: Rockets, Robots and Rayguns of Space Age Pop Culture’
Even by Fifties-low-budget-sci-fi standards, “Monster From the Ocean Floor” is a mediocre film. (Too much ocean floor … not enough monster.)
But two important “firsts” distinguish the 1954 quickie. It was the first of many movies from the period to suggest that radiation could produce giant monsters. Also, “Ocean Floor” marked Roger Corman‘s debut as a movie producer.
Corman’s eye for talent was there from the top. Anne Kimbell, who studied under Lee Strasberg and acted onstage with Marlon Brando, is quite good as Julie Blair, the protagonist of the film (yay, proto-feminism!) who is the first to spot the monster … and sound the alarm.
“Ocean Floor” is the film debut of Jonathan Haze, later a member of the Corman acting troupe. Haze is best remembered as would-be botanist Seymour Krelborn in Corman’s original “Little Shop of Horrors” (1960).
And “Ocean Floor” was shot by Oscar winning cinematographer Floyd Crosby. I always wondered why Crosby — who shot “High Noon,” fer cryin’ out loud — was always slumming in cheapies by Corman and AIP (American International Pictures). I finally got my answer from the lips of Corman, as interviewed by Tom Weaver, who shared the audio clip in his commentary: Crosby had been “semi-blacklisted,” according to Corman, and grabbed whatever work he could.
Directed by Wyott Ordung (who appears in the film, as does Corman), “Ocean Floor” is set in Mexico but was shot on picturesque Malibu Beach, with the underwater footage taken off of Catalina Island). Julie is an artist vacationing in Mexico who is pursued, ever so casually, by Steve Dunning (Stuart Wade), a marine biologist. People and animals along a Mexican cove are being mysteriously, well, consumed. A diver’s suit is retrieved from the sea with no body in it; bones are all that’s left of a cow; a local boy’s father is taken away by “some strange thing.”
Kimbell wasn’t afraid to get dirty — or more to the point, wet — in pursuit of her art. She earned her Corman University diploma by scuba diving, swimming gracefully while wearing heavy equipment in decent underwater photography. As Julie, she encounters a giant octopus (in familiar stock footage) during a dive. But no one on the surface quite believes Julie. Not even Steve, who serenades her on the beach accompanying himself on guitar while warbling: “My love is like a red, red rose.” (It’s super cornball.)
The impetus for the whole project was a one-man mini-submarine made locally by an outfit called Aerojet General, which lent Corman the sub on the promise of free publicity. It’s kind of silly lookin’ — like something you’d see on Gerry and Sylvia Anderson‘s “Thunderbirds” — but it works. Corman, always trying to bolster his production values for little or no money, exploits it for everything it’s worth.
All Fifties sci-fi monster movies have garbled pseudo-scientific explanations or theories for their monsters. It’s part of the fun. In “Ocean Floor,” Steve’s colleague Dr. Balwin (Dick Pinner) hedges his bet when asked why an amoeba has grown in size to such a degree: “It could be one of many things: some freak accident; dietary supplement; it could even be caused by the radiation from the Bikini explosion.”
So, take your pick. Me, I like the dietary supplement idea.
The part of Tula was played by Inez Palange, shown above with director Ordung. She was a native of Roccasicura in Italy who appeared in many Hollywood films going back to the Thirties, often in uncredited bits. But Palange scored at least one plumb role: She was Paul Muni’s momma in Howard Hawks‘ gangster classic “Scarface” (1932). Palange was also a villager in James Whales‘ “Frankenstein” (1931). I’ll have to look for her the next time I watch Boris Karloff’s star-making vehicle.
For his part, Ordung was probably a better actor than a director. (Ordung was denigrated by Crosby, though not by that discreet gentleman Corman, according to Weaver’s commentary.)
Outside of that octopus stock footage, we see precious little of the monster. It’s a sort of giant octo-cyclops created by puppeteer Bob Baker, who worked the puppets that Elvis Presley sings to in “G.I. Blues,” among many credits. Baker’s monster straddles the not-so-fine line between funny (though not exactly laughable) and creepy. Corman uses it sparingly, often in blurred focus to convey the underwater motif — either that, or to obscure the monster’s perceived flaws. Anyway, we needed to see more of it.
Extras in Film Masters’ release include Weaver’s illuminating (and playful) commentary; a short documentary on Baker; an archival interview with Corman; the original trailer, plus one re-cut using restored footage; a still gallery; and a 14-page booklet. Film Masters’ print, newly restored from a 4K scan of the original 35mm negative, is absolutely pristine. You see, we grew up watching these cheap little movies on snowy black-and-white TVs. I doubt “Monster From the Ocean Floor” looked this good in 1954.
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