A low-budget 50's horror film where people stand around in ties and talk, or sometimes they smoke, or maybe drive cars to break up the monotony, or show offensive racial stereotypes in bad wigs. Occasionally they spout lines of dialogue like, "I couldn't see anything, it was darker than the inside of your pocket." One of the few women in the cast serves up coffee and disappointment, then accidentally loses her compact, allowing the male lead to make the scientific and archaeological find of both his and the woman's father's careers and finally causing something to happen and forwarding the plot briefly. Half-hearted mumbo-jumbo about a curse and some pseudo-scientific nonsense is uttered, but it doesn't matter. The "monster" appears at the 36-minute mark amidst the stock footage of lightning that looks suspiciously like the opening credits of "Gilligan's Island". If you find Sir Walter Raleigh after a bout of mud-wrestling frightening, I wouldn't watch. Don't worry, this is not a spoiler. The movie is spoiled already, and I had nothing to do with it. Featuring numerous bad film cliches, complete misunderstanding of fossils and suspended animation, slow-motion female fainting, and sincere usage of the word "jeepers". Avoid, but if you can't stop yourself, it's available on Netflix Instant Streaming.
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