One Million Years B.C. (P.G.)
Directed by Don Chaffey. 1966.
Starring Raquel Welch, John Richardson, Martine Beswick, Percy Herbert and Robert Brown. 96 mins. 50th Anniversary restoration released on double play by Studiocanal.
And the primordial swamp created woman. The pre-publicity for this 50th anniversary release invites us to admire the antiquated loveliness of Ray Harryhausen stop motion dinosaurs but really One Million Years B.C is all about the timeless wonder of Raquel Welch packing out her fur bikini. Now I don't want to go all Barry Norman leech on you but there is something about her candyfloss assemblage of blonde hair and her pulchritudinous perkiness that bypasses the base concerns of the libido and inspires a sense of innocent, childlike wonder.
Which is just as well as the film itself is strangely joyless. For a Hammer film aimed at a mainstream audience it is quite a radical piece of cinema. After a voice over introduction, there's no dialogue, only a limited series of grunts to indicate characters' names and a few basic objects and actions. So this is basically a non verbal experience, which seems an entirely arbitrary piece of historical authenticity given that these cave person are co-existing with dinosaurs and oversized turtles and tarantulas, their feet are protected by prototype ugg boots and they all have modesty protecting underpants beneath their animal fur trunks.
Aside from that, it's a bleak little tale. It opens with a hunting expedition that traps and kills a boar before bringing it back to the cave where the women cook it and once it is ready the members of the tribe fight over the meat with the old and weak having to make do with scraps: it's like a UKIP party political broadcast done through the medium of interpretive mime.
Within this rough tribe of dark haired people, the two sons of the leader fall out, (the opening voice over tells us that there is no love lost between the two of them, which is a terribly BC turn of phrase) and the older one (Richardson) is exiled. After a few scrapes in the wilderness he is lucky enough to be taken in by more enlightened, blonde haired tribe where he captures the attention of Raquel.
There's stuff to enjoy here. The Canary Islands location footage provide a stark and effective backdrop. It's fun to see a few familiar faces among the loin cloths, such as Percy Herbert who was always the heavy in Carry On films or Robert Brown who replaced Bernard Lee as M in the latter Moore/ Dalton era. There is a ton of affection and nostalgia wrapped up in its silliness, but if we're honest it isn't great. Very much a film that is less than the sum of its poster.
Extras:
Brief chats with Welch and Martine Beswick, both of which are interesting and enjoyable.
Stills, storyboard and art work by Harryhausen.
Production stills gallery.
Directed by Don Chaffey. 1966.
Starring Raquel Welch, John Richardson, Martine Beswick, Percy Herbert and Robert Brown. 96 mins. 50th Anniversary restoration released on double play by Studiocanal.
And the primordial swamp created woman. The pre-publicity for this 50th anniversary release invites us to admire the antiquated loveliness of Ray Harryhausen stop motion dinosaurs but really One Million Years B.C is all about the timeless wonder of Raquel Welch packing out her fur bikini. Now I don't want to go all Barry Norman leech on you but there is something about her candyfloss assemblage of blonde hair and her pulchritudinous perkiness that bypasses the base concerns of the libido and inspires a sense of innocent, childlike wonder.
Which is just as well as the film itself is strangely joyless. For a Hammer film aimed at a mainstream audience it is quite a radical piece of cinema. After a voice over introduction, there's no dialogue, only a limited series of grunts to indicate characters' names and a few basic objects and actions. So this is basically a non verbal experience, which seems an entirely arbitrary piece of historical authenticity given that these cave person are co-existing with dinosaurs and oversized turtles and tarantulas, their feet are protected by prototype ugg boots and they all have modesty protecting underpants beneath their animal fur trunks.
Aside from that, it's a bleak little tale. It opens with a hunting expedition that traps and kills a boar before bringing it back to the cave where the women cook it and once it is ready the members of the tribe fight over the meat with the old and weak having to make do with scraps: it's like a UKIP party political broadcast done through the medium of interpretive mime.
Within this rough tribe of dark haired people, the two sons of the leader fall out, (the opening voice over tells us that there is no love lost between the two of them, which is a terribly BC turn of phrase) and the older one (Richardson) is exiled. After a few scrapes in the wilderness he is lucky enough to be taken in by more enlightened, blonde haired tribe where he captures the attention of Raquel.
There's stuff to enjoy here. The Canary Islands location footage provide a stark and effective backdrop. It's fun to see a few familiar faces among the loin cloths, such as Percy Herbert who was always the heavy in Carry On films or Robert Brown who replaced Bernard Lee as M in the latter Moore/ Dalton era. There is a ton of affection and nostalgia wrapped up in its silliness, but if we're honest it isn't great. Very much a film that is less than the sum of its poster.
Extras:
Brief chats with Welch and Martine Beswick, both of which are interesting and enjoyable.
Stills, storyboard and art work by Harryhausen.
Production stills gallery.
