Frogs (1972)

In the 1970s, nature-runs-amuck movies became all the rage. One of the first of the decade, 1972’s Frogs, is not one of the better examples of the genre. Directed by George McCowan, who worked mostly in television, and scripted by Robert Hutchison and Robert Blees, Frogs revolves around a rich, Southern family named the Crocketts.

Wheelchair-bound, chemical magnate Jason Crockett (Ray Milland) owns a plantation home on an island in Florida’s Everglades. Wildlife photographer Pickett Smith (Sam Elliott) is taking pictures around the island from his canoe. Jason’s son, Clint (Adam Roarke,) and daughter, Karen (Joan Van Ark), accidentally tip over Pickett’s canoe with their high-powered speed boat. The Crocketts take Pickett back to the family home so he can dry off and relax.

While taking his photos, Pickett sees evidence of extensive pollution on the island. After being chastised by Jason for being on private property, he learns that the island is being overrun by frogs. To reduce their numbers, Jason ordered large amounts of pesticide to be sprayed. Pickett advises him that the pesticide — and other methods Jason has used to kill the frogs — will have unintentional side effects on the rest of the wildlife. Jason doesn’t seem to be bothered by this news. His family’s peace and quiet is his immediate concern. Since the frogs make too much noise and interrupt the family’s sleep, they must die by any means necessary.

Predictably, nature strikes back and Crockett’s family and staff members begin turning up dead all over the island. The way Frogs is filmed would lead you to believe that the amphibians are controlling the actions of other wildlife on the island. Lizards, geckos, alligators, snakes, turtles, and spiders all find unusual (and incredibly unlikely) ways of killing off the family members one-by-one.

The Crockett family might be one of the least appealing collection of characters I’ve seen in a horror movie in quite some time. Aside from Pickett Smith, no one in this movie has more than a few brain cells to rub together. While I’m sure that was the aim of the script, the movie would have been much more satisfying if the kill scenes had some intensity. As handled by McCowan, though, each death scenario is almost exactly the same: A shot of frogs staring into the camera precedes a human wandering into some contrived situation where he or she can be fatally injured. Another shot of the frogs. The animal who’s supposedly menacing the human moves into position. Another shot of the frogs accompanied by intensified croaking. The human falls prey to the animal — be it a turtle, snake, or lizard — and screams. Cut back to the frogs, who turn away from the camera unmoved. Rinse and repeat. (For variety, one death involves a tag-team of Spanish moss and tarantulas.)

While seeing a young Sam Elliott (sans his trademark mustache) attempt to save a family of rich, white morons has some curio value, Frogs is mostly boring and repetitive. It certainly isn’t scary or even funny in a so bad, it’s good way. It’s just plain dull.