This is how women in my sorority greet each other. It’s known as the “My eyes are right here, dude!” ditty.
Mesa of Lost Women (1953) … oh … ah … urgh …
Told through a flashback, this is the story of a mad scientist, Dr. Aranya, and his quest to produce humans with regenerative capabilities. He invites a famous scientist (“a specialist!”), Dr. Masterson, to visit, and reveals his experiments on tarantulas have produced specimens that grow to be larger than humans, while his human experiments have produced women who can regrow limbs and appear to have a lifespan of several centuries.
And the habits of spiders.
The results with the men are more problematic.
Masterson, asked to help, is horrified and denounces Dr. Aranya. His timing is poor, as he’s overpowered and becomes yet another subject for experimentation. But he breaks free and escapes, while losing his mind in the process.
A year later, he is out on a pass from the insane asylum, under the care of George, a large male nurse. He stops at a tavern, and, in his innocent, dominating way, shoots to death a dancer who is performing. Escaping with George, who doesn’t dare go up against the gun, he and Jan Van Croft, Croft’s manservant, and Croft’s fiancee, Doreen – a gold digger who’s found her sugar daddy – that Masterson has taken hostage drive to the airport, where Croft’s plane – under repair – and pilot, manly but humble Grant, are waiting.
Forced to take off, the plane’s problems means they’re immediately in trouble and are forced to land on the Zarpa Mesa, and soon enough they’re being picked off, one by one, by the men and women who’ve been experimented on by Dr. Aranya.
With a little help from you-know-what.
And, yeah, it’s all cobbled together. The acting ranges from adequate to awful, technically it’s nothing good, special effects are dubious at best, and the accompanying music … must have been provided by a first year music student.
But I’ll admit, the work of one of the experimental subjects, Tarantella (Tandra Quinn) wasn’t awful. Whether she’s a good dancer is a question for a dance expert, but I thought her dancing evoked a spider quite well, and when she wasn’t dancing she had a fixed stare that was unexpectedly effective in context. She had no dialog, which turned out to be true for Quinn throughout her career.
If you’re an Ed Woods completist, then I will sigh and say, This is for you.
But, as my Arts Editor stated, “Boy, did that stank.”
