The Creature from the Black Lagoon: Universal’s Last Classic Monster

I’ve always regarded The Gillman as my favorite Universal monster. The only ghoul to imperil his ascendancy has been Frankenstein’s creation. Frankenstein is better than The Creature From the Black Lagoon, but this swampy savory distinguishes itself from the rest of the temporal creature features. It’s 100% original. Unlike its axial contemporaries, The Gillman isn’t derived from literature, folklore, or rumblings of ethnology. He’s just a decoction conceived by an imaginative filmmaker. My adoration for the Black Lagoon trilogy also stems from airy nostalgia. I’m well aware of the fact that nostalgia clouds objectivity, but when I think back to being transfixed by b-spectacles (this one in particular) as a namby-pamby runt, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

This elect nonpareil isn’t exclusive to prentice youths, though. It holds up rather well into adulthood, as any cultured genre buff will tell you. It’s a b-movie with a-movie production values. The creature suit may invoke sniggering from impartial viewers and the acting is irrefragably wooden, but few can mock the lush B&W cinematography, the cursive underwater sequences, and the expressive, commutative score. And then there’s Julia Adams’ shapely figure. I don’t see how anyone could mock that (remember when attractive women had meat on their bones?). It’s the asperous creature suit that sells me, as worn by Ben Chapman and Ricou Browning. Chapman handled Gillman duties on dry land, while Browning, an Olympic swimmer, slipped into a natatorial suit for the aquatic scenes.

The first half can be tedious upon the fourth or fifth viewing, but it does offer indelible visuals that enrich the suspense factor. Yes, a monster movie from 1954 has suspense. The image of The Gillman swimming directly below our heroine should be just as lionized as the image of Bela Lugosi standing on a staircase. But it’s not. These abyssal scenarios are made even more monopolizing by the fact that you can actually see what’s happening. Most underwater shots are fuliginous slivers of melanoid marinade (or…they’re too dark). Fortuitously, the Amazon’s inlets are suffused by sunlight. The picture is crystal clear, and you never have to strain your eyes to make out the action in front of you.

The cast is expectedly euphuistic. Richard Carlson is obscenely bland as David, the levelheaded scientist. This uninspired form of “acting” was commonplace amongst genre canzonets in the ’50s, so I’ll cut Carlson some slack. Some. Richard Denning plays Mark, the greedy scientist. Denning is a wonderful jerk, and he manages to drum up mild character tension. What would a sci-fi/horror exemplar be without its ravishing starlet? Julia Adams gives the sturdiest performance here, although she could get away with stoicism. She’s the ideal beauty to the Creature’s beast. You almost root for The Gillman to get the girl. He certainly gets enough of the limelight, but director Jack (Tarantula, The Incredible Shrinking Man, It Came From Outer Space) Arnold is careful not to overexpose him (that would be an enormity committed by the sequels).

This wroth guppy isn’t without its faults. For the most part, the score enhances the film, but whenever The Gillman’s entrance theme spiked my ears, I wanted to lower the volume in high dudgeon. It’s a piping, cacophonous DA DA DAAAAAA!!!! If it was only used once or twice, I wouldn’t object to its inclusion, but it’s repeated ad infinitum (it’s also “sampled” in the American version of King Kong vs. Godzilla). Secondly, the ending is too abrupt. The movie just rolls over and dies. I wanted to cuddle afterwards, but it was much too eager to reach a conclusion. Still, The Creature From the Black Lagoon is a Universal heavyweight taken as is. I could mention how Anaconda is practically a blow-by-blow revamp (replace “big snake” with “The Gillman” and try to tell the scripts apart), but I’ve wasted enough of your time on the subject.