The movie opens with scenes of various kinds of Amazonian wildlife, then of monkeys being caged. A comely young man flashes a sinister smile as he watches the monkeys, and laughs an evil laugh. If he had a mustache, he'd be twirling it.

Terry Greene has received a grant to photograph wildlife in Venezuela near where Arthur Conan Doyle set his Lost World. She's traveling with her brother, Art, who likes a bit of drink. They've hired Jim Pendrake as their guide, their “Tarzan.” While they're buying supplies—first aid kit, snake anti-venom--Pendrake buys a handgun. (A more useful firearm might against the savage beasties would be a be a rifle, but never mind.) Terry forbids him to bring the gun. This is irrational. She offers no reason, though her brother later says there is a long story. Jim, irritated, says he doesn't have time to listen to it. He brings the gun anyway.

It isn't long until the, ahem, Greene party, meets the same comely young man in a mid-jungle bar named “El Milagro.” (“miracle”). There they learn his name is Caribe and his trade it that of hunter. Pendrake is familiar with him and doesn't like him. But the alcohol is flowing freely. Terry, disgusted, turns in early and lets the boys be boys. There is another Spanish word that Art should have been paying attention to when people at the bar are talking about Caribe: “peligro” (“danger”). Of course, he doesn't ask Jim for a translation until it's almost too late.

If the movie commits a mortal sin, it is that there are no surprises. The viewer can see it all coming even through the dense jungle. There is an interminable steeple chase of a motorcycle race—alcohol inspired, of course. Despite both participants landing in the dirt and the drink several times, the bikes come through unscathed, the riders little more than dirty, wet and thirsty. Terry prates on about the suffering of animals that are hunted—I'm not without sympathy there—but then not a word when the group visits a diamond mine and sees the corrugated-roofed sheds of the diamond workers, or people wading in mud and hand-panning--back-breaking work to say the least. She just keeps snapping pictures of mine-workers and children dressed in half-torn clothing. But then guns are her hang-up, not other people's poverty...

While there is some character development, this serves more as a plot device than any meaningful story telling. The special effects are less than convincing. Twice during the film there are scenes of animals being being shot—a deer and a vulture—though I assume these were done with tranquilizer darts and the animals were not harmed, there is no statement at the end of the film to that effect, which creeps me out.

There is one cheesy scene early on where Terry is crouched, shooting film just below a low rise. A rattlesnake is coiling on the rise, about level with her shoulders. She sees it and goes into hysterics, rather than simply backing away (and maybe swearing a little bit), all she really needed to do to get out of harm's way. Her screams draw Art and Jim. Level-headed Jim shoots and kills the snake. Who let these people into the jungle? At first glance, they certainly seem peligro enough to themselves and others.

The film is also a tribute to the early 1970's fashion and hairstyles, not to mention the hedonism. Sometimes, the good old days are really best forgotten. Certainly the pantsuits are.



Dramatis Personae:


William Smith: Caribe
Peter Brown: Jim Pendrake
Ahna Capri: Terry Greene
Tom Simcox: Art Greene


1972

89 mins

rated PG

Lean-n-Mean at 586 words

Recommended:
No

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: None of the Above
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older