OK, boys, let’s shave it bald and let it loose in the sun!
When you watch Godmonster of Indian Flats (1973) make sure you have a partner. Just as when you go SCUBA diving, a partner is a necessity because you’ll keep each other safe: making sure breaks are taken at regular intervals, that serious discussions of the theme of the monstrous sheep that is the eponymous godmonster can take place, and not too much rum & kool-aid is consumed.
Just to be sure, pick a teetotaler for your partner, and make sure they’re strong in their teetotal-ness.
This semi-rancid mashup of such sub-genres as fantasy dinosaur, vigilante lynch mob, mad doctor, assistant to the mad doctor infatuation with the monster, lust with the local boy, sheer power-based insanity, and a total failure to find a suitable ending to the story makes this one of the worst stories I’ve ever encountered. Add in bad cinematography, audio, dialog, plot, acting, and special effects, and this just about hits it out of the ballpark.
Yep, I’m sure someone thinks it’s adorable.
