The Gill-Man trilogy, kicked off by Jack Arnold’s Creature from the Black Lagoon, stands as one of the more ambitious attempts to sustain a successful concept in ‘50s sci-fi-monster cinema. The two sequels, Revenge of the Creature and The Creature Walks Among Us, delve with a melodramatic efficiency into matters of evolution and the construction of human identity, pitting human folly and arrogance against the Gill-Man’s unexpected mix of intelligence and utterly basic desire to defend territory and find a mate – less an expression of the id than a kind of walking superego. In all three films, romantic triangles play out amongst the humans, in which the remnant animalistic qualities in the species are reconfirmed, alongside other, baser qualities such as greed and thirst for power masquerading as scientific curiosity and conscientious concern; simultaneously the Gill-Man’s theoretically icky fascination for luscious females gains a light gilding of all too human yearning and nobility. The series is fascinating also for being clear early manifestations of environmentalist concern in mainstream cinema.
Revenge was again directed by Arnold, who makes an admirable attempt to sustain series continuity by having his regular player Nestor Paiva return as Lucas, captain of the “Nelly”, explaining to two naturalists (John Bromfield and Robert B. Williams) how he believes the Gill-Man is driven by something stronger than even evolution. The naturalists soon capture the beast and take it back to the US to become an exhibit in a Sea World-like aquarium, and animal behaviour expert Clete Ferguson (John Agar) and ichthyology student Helen Dobson (Lori Nelson, who, unless movies have been lying to me, confirms the large number of centrefold scientists there were in the ‘50s), begin a regimen to try and teach the ferocious manimal some basic manners. Of course, he wants to break free, just like Freddie Mercury, and shake up those sun-loving gawkers and ice-cream-sticky brats a little before getting down to the real business of trying to swap incompatible (or is it?) DNA with Nelson.
Unfortunately, although sustaining interesting thematic tensions, the second two films lack inspiration, partly because they fell into the trap of repeating the essential plot motifs of the first film: Gill-Man gets caught, escapes, snatches away human female in desperate attempt to mate, gets shot at for his troubles, swims off to an ambiguous fate. It’s especially dull here because Agar and Nelson are utterly cardboard protagonists – Agar’s there-there consoling of Nelson when she’s distraught over witnessing a man’s death at the hands of a giant fish-beast is a masterpiece of wooden acting – and the story develops clumsily, taking constant time-outs for playful chimpanzees and cavorting trained dolphins to pad out what feels like a hurriedly assembled screenplay, and then setting up silly excuses to put Nelson in the Gill-Man’s path after he’s busted loose.
The evocation of the Gill-Man’s ferocious strength and unnerving fixity of purpose is still effective, but he doesn’t get to cut loose as much as hoped, for the limited budget keeps any rampaging carefully checked, and an air of tired retread is never dispelled. The first film’s crucial influence on Jaws is often noted, and probably not coincidentally this one offered an easy template for the wonderfully bad Jaws 3-D. Meanwhile, The Creature Walks Among Us is actually slightly superior for being just a little weirder. In spite of his being better looking than John Agar, the Creature can never get a break.
