The Monster Movie's Missing Link
(originally posted on IMDb 19 October 2018)

I admire the audacity of beginning a 1950s monster movie made in 3D with the announcer's voice of Art Gilmore quoting Genesis while images depict the Big Bang of the cosmos and the formation of Earth; whereupon, the introductory scene transitions to a scientific and evolutionary explanation of the development of life on Earth, from sea to surface. Introducing the last of the classic Universal monsters, "Creature from the Black Lagoon" is justifiably considered something of a Missing Link itself among monster movies--bridging the divide from the likes of "King Kong" (1933), with its colonialist tragedy of Beauty and the Beast, to the "We're gonna need a bigger boat" versus amphibious creature of "Jaws" (1975). Furthermore, it keeps one foot in the waters of past Universal monster movies of the 1930s and 1940s while anticipating the exploration of interplanetary creature features to come in the Space Age. Beyond a monster being made of a man in a rubber suit and the 3D gimmickry, this is a well paced, photographed and staged production despite the B-picture feel. Diving beneath the surface, it becomes even more fascinating for its dated ideological underpinnings: the 1950s sexism, the scientific colonialism and the antiquated evolutionary concept of the Missing Link.

In the beginning, the archaeology in a foreign land angle recalls Universal's Kharis mummy series of the 1940s, with the hubris of modern scientific treasure hunting awakening an ancient monster. This quickly gives way, however, to a narrative more in line with the colonialist escapade of "King Kong" and anticipating the sea journey of "Jaws." The capitalist showman of the bunch wants to capture the creature and bring him home for "Eighth Wonder of the World" type accolades, while the more scientific-minded hero is invested in the fish-man's life, if only to advance research. The men's butting heads, traveling on a boat while fighting a sea monster is reminiscent of "Jaws," including the intriguing emphasis on the deep-sea procedures involved, although there isn't the same token of male bonding here to alleviate the tension. Plus, as in most other classic monster movies other than "Jaws," such as "King Kong," there's the woman in the middle of it all.

Typical of Hollywood then, especially Universal's horror films, she's a helpless screaming-and-fainting damsel-in-distress. She comes along on the adventure, but the men always order her to fall back in the face of danger. As the hero bemoans, there's just one thing he's concerned about and that's "going into unexplored territory with a woman." Predictably, those fears turn out to be warranted in that she becomes the object of the merman's obsession. Like Kong carrying Fay Wray, Universal's own ape carrying a woman over rooftops in "Murders in the Rue Morgue" (1932), the four Kharis films, Dracula forcing Mina up the Carfax Abbey staircase in 1931, all the way back on the screen to at least the somnambulist taking his female victim through the Expressionist sets of "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" (1920), the beasts have always taken off with carrying (frequently unconscious) beauties. Not only beastly, the monster is always a foreign threat, too, whether from a traveling carnival coming to town or from a racial other. Never is the greatest fear the lives of men, either, but rather that of the lascivious foreigner's lust for their women--and so again here.

Fortunately, this one benefits from some lovely underwater photography, including the shots of the the creature swimming underneath her during their first contact--seemingly inspiring the opening sequence of "Jaws." I also love how they transitioned out of one shot by filling the screen with air bubbles and how these scenes, overall, are foregrounded by sea plants. There's also the self-reflexive attempted underwater photography of the creature by the hero in one sequence. And, even without the male lead's comparison of exploring the unknown depths of the sea to that of space, the resemblance of the underwater gear and other-worldly look of the underwater photography to astronauts and outer space isn't lost. Due to the lack of dialogue in these diving interludes and the frequent tension-filled moments of character silence, it's easy to appreciate the soundscape, as well. In the vein from "King Kong" to "Jaws," there's an almost-constant score annotating, including the creature's trumpet theme, and the sound effects for supposed-Amazonian ambiance aren't bad, either. This also helps the pacing, which also benefits from the down-river journey plot.

Even the rear-projection shots work to literally segregate the colonialist heroes on their stage boat from the "unevolved" jungle. Like "King Kong," the "evolved" Anglo-Saxon explorers come to colonize an "unevolved" and remote part of a jungle. It's not too much of a stretch to make the connection between Kong and the Gillman and depictions of dehumanized racial "others," whose feared primitive strength meets its match in imperial weaponry and know-how. Listen to them debate the humanity of the creature, and its place in their conception of the world; they're the same arguments that were made by social Darwinists to subjugate other races. The woman occupies a similar space; she even refers to herself as another "species" during her flirtation with the hero. Ironically, both films, too, turn the tables on the white men in a sort of reverse-colonialist threat from the monster. Cinematically, this is reinforced by the male gaze: that of the beast for the beauty, which is combated by the gaze upon the "primitive other" by the colonizers. Even after we've seen the man-fish fully underwater, the film continues to focus on his specific body parts when creeping up on the surface. See how that Best-Picture winning creature feature "The Shape of Water" (2017) reverses this ideology, from the perspective of the colonized and marginalized peoples. Perhaps, we have evolved.