When Good Frogs Go Mad

Admit it. Even if you're the least discerning movie watcher ever, you still occasionally see a truly horrific one that makes you wonder: "How the hell did someone convince a studio to make this piece of shit?" 


My brother and I are connoisseurs of these types of movies-- it's something of a tradition for us to find the campiest, shittiest, most God-awful horror film we can find at the library or thrift store and watch it late at night (after all the normal people have gone to bed.) Consequently I have been introduced to such cinematic gems as Eight Legged Freaks, The Wicker Man, and Santa Claus Conquers The Martians. But the worst of the worst, the bad movie that has rendered all other bad movies obsolete, has got to be Frogs. 

Okay, kids-- this is what we call "false advertising."

Made in 1972 on a budget of approximately $500 and a lot of psychedelic drugs, Frogs is a film so lame, so ridiculous, and so insulting to our intelligence that it makes Revenge Of The Killer Tomatoes look positively Oscar-worthy. The premise is that a rich, cantankerous old bastard owns an island in the middle of a giant swamp, and uses pesticides to control the copious numbers of reptiles and amphibians that inhabit it. A nature photographer, played by (believe it or not) Sam Elliot, before he was famous and the alternative was prostituting himself to buy food, is writing a piece on deforestation and pollution in the area. Mr. Rich Bastard invites him to stay at his mansion, where all the other rich and snooty relatives (who seem to share a fondness for dressing like English cricket players) are gathered to celebrate the old man's birthday. After exchanging a few smoldering glances with Mr. Rich Bastard's daughter, Elliot discovers that all the creepy crawly things in the forest are taking revenge by systematically murdering each family member in turn. 


Now, this plot, while silly, might have actually worked as a spoof and/or campy take on environmental devastation.  The trailer definitely spins it that way.  But it quickly becomes clear that the filmmakers were actually taking the film seriously-- further proof, if any is needed, that they were extremely high during production. If that weren't bad enough, though, the movie has no special effects whatsoever. None. I was all set to enjoy hilariously crude camera tricks that one often sees in low-budget films (think Killer Rabbit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.)  But this film has nothing. NOTHING. There is no blood, no innards, no half-eaten limbs, not even one giant mutant frog to lead the rebellion. 

Don't fuck with my McRibbet, bitch.

There are only handheld camera shots of people wandering into the woods, falling down shrieking and thrashing around with obviously fake rubber snakes, lizards or alligators.  The frogs don't even make an appearance until almost the very end of the film, and then they are shown hopping onto Mr. Rich Bastard (clearly someone off-camera is throwing some of them into the shot) while he writhes in agony on the floor. It's the most anticlimactic ending you can imagine. Even lamer than the miniseries It, based on Stephen King's novel of the same name, where "It" turns out to be just a fucking giant spider that can be killed simply by stabbing its underbelly with a sharp implement. 


Don't misunderstand me-- I'm not an advocate for censorship. I support the first amendment 100 percent, even if it does protect neo-Nazis, Rush Limbaugh, and the Kardashians. But there are certain movies that people should just not be allowed to see-- nobody should ever be exposed to such stupidity. It's catching.