When someone’s food talks back to you.
Ever had one of those ice cream sundaes where the ice cream is just a little off? All those lovely toppings wasted because the ice cream has that weird, artificial chemical after-taste?
Or how about when someone bolts a huge spoiler onto the back of a … Honda Accord?
Well, Beast from Haunted Cave (1959) is sort of like that. A gang, aware of a bank in Aspen, CO, containing some gold, comes to town. The plan is to blow up an old mine up the side of the mountain, and while everyone is distracted by the explosion and possible avalanche, they invade the bank and take enough gold to carry.
How will they escape? To that end, they engage the services of a tall, handsome cross-country ski guide, purportedly for a round trip over the hills and through the woods, but actually planning to rendezvous with a small plane piloted by a confederate at the guide’s cabin.
Problems start to appear when the man planting the bomb in the mine loses the drunken waitress he’s picked up to a monster. I know, careless, especially when the monster appears to be a small stick with cobwebs wrapped around it, but the bomb is in place, and while the town is buzzing about the missing waitress, the bomb goes off, killing a watchman who’s checking the broken door. Operating like a gasoline engine without oil, the gang makes it to the oblivious guide, who sets them off cross country.
And every once in a while, a cobwebby stick pops into view.
This crew seems to be full of opaque comments, odd fears, and, to top it off, the boss has his alcoholic girlfriend along for the ride. She’s cheeky, bitter, desperate, but it comes off a little flat.
Once at the guide’s house, the plot comes out in the open, meaning the guide is deep in the doodoo, but in the midst of threatening gestures, Mr. Monster snatches up the guide’s housekeeper, a straight-faced Indian who may have been the best actor of the lot. Eventually, one of the gang traces her to the monster’s hideout, an old cave, and finds the woman webbed to the wall – along with the missing waitress.
At least they followed Burke’s dictate for ‘the sublime.’
Then the gang member joins the larder, and we finally get a good look at the monster. I must say, this caused division in my household, because my Arts Editor immediately proclaimed it the “worst monster ever,” while I actually thought it was creepy and the best part of the movie.
Did I say larder? THE MONSTER’S A BLOODSUCKER! And a loud eater. Poor upbringing, I’m sure.
In any case, the drunk girlfriend and the guide, forced to take refuge from the non-existent storm into which they were trying to escape from the violent boss of the gang (or remnants thereof), stumble into this mess, swiftly followed by the enraged boss, and while the guide and drunk girlfriend escape, everyone else pretty much goes up in flames.
Who knew monsters were flammable?
There’s a lot going on here, but the story doesn’t coordinate the themes, and the themes are really fairly trivial. There’s some typical 1950s anti-women violence, the characters are a trifle random, which is perhaps another 1950s trope, and the acting itself is fairly awful.
It’s too bad. A complete redo with careful thematic consideration might yield a more horrifying condemnation of amorality.
