film rating:
disc rating:
company: Bantam Street
year: 2009
runtime: 93′
director: Larry Blamire
cast: Frank Dietz, H. M. Wynant,
Brian Howe, Christine Romeo,
Kevin Quinn, Fay Masterson,
Robert Deveau, Daniel Roebuck,
Larry Blamire, Susan McConnell
writer: Larry Blamire
cinematography: Anthony J. Rickert-Epstein
music: John W. Morgan
and William T. Stromberg
Reviewed from a screener provided
by Shout! Factory, LLC.
Pre-order this film from Amazon.com

Plot: Two bands of adventurers, one good, one bad, and one including a man possessed by a living skull, head into the Valley of the Monsters on the hunt for Geranium, a rare element that will . . . something . . .

Writer, director and actor Larry Blamire has made something of a name for himself in cult film circles for his low budget send-ups of the B-grade science fiction of old, and is best known for the prequel to this film – 2004’s The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. Picked up and released through Sony Pictures, The Lost Skeleton… proved pretty successful for a no-bugdet niche production with limited appeal beyond its target audience of bad cinema aficionados. A sequel seemed inevitable and, after the similarly themed 2007 effort Trail of the Screaming Forehead, the inevitable came to pass.

It seems pertinent to note that I never saw The Lost Skeleton of Cadvra, purportedly a satiric throwback to the films of Ed Wood Jr., but if it’s anything at all like Blamire’s recent sequel I’m not at all sure I want to. The redundantly titled The Lost Skeleton Returns Again shifts focus from the bargain basement productions of Wood to the science fiction serials and jungle adventures of the late 40s and early 50s, notably those made under the supervision of schlock hero Sam Katzman. The results aren’t pretty.

It’s obvious that Blamire is familiar with the material he mocks, and all of the expected elements are here. Following in the tradition of William Berke’s Jungle Jim, The Lost Skeleton Returns Again includes long walks through dubious jungle settings, dense characters, numerous scenes of people ogling stock footage animals, mustachioed villains, improbably caucasion jungle natives, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. It even features a know-it-all jungle guide brimming with ludicrous advice, the Weismuller-inspired Jungle Brad, here played by an actor showing neither the physical presence or thespian proficiency of his inspiration. Yes, it is that sad.

There are promising aspects to Blamire’s opus, however few and far between. I appreciated the imagination that went into the infrequent effects setups, from a pair of awkward and lovable suitmation monsters (one a cyclops with an enormous head, the other a gurgling mutant Gumby-like thing) to a few genuinely inspired foreground miniatures. The score, too, is commendable, with John Morgan and William Stromberg taking some obvious hints from Bernard Herrman’s contributions to Harryhausen’s effects-laden fantasies.

It is doubly unfortunate, then, that the film as a whole is such a snooze. Blamire’s screenplay is insipid to begin with, choosing to spoof its ignorantly asinine inspirations by being intentionally dumber, but its handling is so leaden as to rival that of forgettable genre turds like Fire Maidens of Outer Space. The cast is made to navigate through endless stretches of allegedly comedic dialogue for 90 minutes plus, bludgeoning the viewer to death with expansive vaudevillian exchanges that would have been trying even at throwaway length. I’m hard pressed to see an audience for this kind of willful garbage at all, and troubled all the more by the fact that I know one is out there.

In the end I was left feeling as though I’d just taken in a particularly terrible stage play, the sort put on by poorly funded small-town community theatre groups with a plumber or math teacher headlining. The only upside here was that I had the ‘STOP’ button on my side.

Shout! Factory presents Blamire’s The Lost Skeleton Returns Again in a suitable single-layer package that heaps far more respect upon the film than it could ever rightfully deserve. The 16:9 enhanced progressive transfer looks to have been taken straight from the source, presenting this digital production as well as can be expected. A few minor issues with aliasing aside, the image looks quite healthy, whether during the early black-and-white segments or the latter full-color ones. Video noise is kept to a minimum and there is no damage – a benefit of never letting your film touch film, I suppose. A 2.0 track faithfully reproduces the audio production, with every grating syllable coming across just fine. There are no subtitles.

Extras are limited, but more than I might have expected. Taking on the bulk of the supplemental responsibility is a commentary track featuring writer / director / producer / star Blamire, crewman Bill Russell, and cast members Andy Perks, Alison Martin, Dan Conroy and Trish Geiger. For whatever it’s worth, I enjoyed this far more than the film itself, finding it sad that such a dedicated group of people couldn’t have churned out something more appetizing. Rounding out the extras is a brief ‘Making Of…’ featurette (just over 11’), most notable for its behind-the-scenes effects coverage, and an even shorter gag reel (2:44). Kudos to Shout! Factory disc producer Brian Ward and designer Samantha K Pennacchio, who have put together another handsomely crafted package. Like it or not, the disc certainly looks good on the shelf.

The Lost Skeleton Returns Again is just a sad example of a potentially talented pool of individuals working well below their capabilities, with nothing but a tired bore of a feature to show for it. Shout! Factory’s disc is up to their usually high standards, and fans will certainly want to indulge (especially with a reasonable SRP of under $15). Others will be better off giving this faux-B substitute amiss in favor of the real thing.  I never thought I’d find myself craving genuine Jungle Jim.