Tentacles

*½ / *****

Sometimes you just have to be straight-up. Tentacles (1977) is mostly the shits. It doesn’t give its cast much to do. There is no real mayhem. The dreaded attack on the yacht race boaters is at its most dramatic when featuring the top of the sail sinking into the drink and the eyes of the pursuer floating towards the boats. Shelley Winters talking into her walkie-talkie to a boy on the sailboat that is pulled under by the giant octopus (its rage jump-started by a tunneling operation emitting too loud a frequency; Henry Fonda’s Trojan company responsible) spells her exit from the film. John Huston, the great director, is a reporter who thinks Bo Hopkins’ oceanographic expert is perfect (as are his whales) to stop the monster in the water killing underwater divers and a baby (yanked into the water while still in his stroller). Claude Akins is the sheriff of a California town trying to figure out what is sucking victims’ bodies to the bone (and even the marrow from the bone). Akins also tries to keep a lid on this as Huston comes around poking his nose about, curious about what is killing folks in the water, believing radios has something to do with it.

Any of you that knows Bo understands his laid-back, chill style. Even when he’s intense or heartbroken (his wife in the film is a victim of the octopus after her search party goes out looking for her sister and the two guys she was with, them encountering the monster also), Bo Hopkins doesn’t overdo it. He’s not what I consider multi-faceted, or anything, but he’s just got a charm about his style and delivery. He is who the movie follows as the octopus is torn apart by two whales under Bo’s care. The octopus is not exactly Jaws or even Orca, for that matter. And the pacing of the film (or the score which is all over the place) just fails to generate anything beyond a reason to bail. I figure many or most who watch Tentacles will bail in terms of interest or attention. I love the look of the beach, the blue skies, sun and all but give us something to invest in. The monster doesn’t even have a lot to do. And when it does attack, the editing (protecting the budget’s lack of genuine octopus rampage, shocks, or gore) makes sure to conceal the production’s limitations. The whales attacking the octopus at the end as Bo gets trapped in some ocean floor rock terrain (rescued eventually by his diver companion) is also protected by editing and dark water. This all just shits the bed, for lack of a better turn of phrase.

Sometimes you just have to be straight-up. Tentacles (1977) is mostly the shits. It doesn’t give its cast much to do. There is no real mayhem. The dreaded attack on the yacht race boaters is at its most dramatic when featuring the top of the sail sinking into the drink and the eyes of the pursuer floating towards the boats. Shelley Winters talking into her walkie-talkie to a boy on the sailboat that is pulled under by the giant octopus (its rage jump-started by a tunneling operation emitting too loud a frequency; Henry Fonda’s Trojan company responsible) spells her exit from the film. John Huston, the great director, is a reporter who thinks Bo Hopkins’ oceanographic expert is perfect (as are his whales) to stop the monster in the water killing underwater divers and a baby (yanked into the water while still in his stroller). Claude Akins is the sheriff of a California town trying to figure out what is sucking victims’ bodies to the bone (and even the marrow from the bone). Akins also tries to keep a lid on this as Huston comes around poking his nose about, curious about what is killing folks in the water, believing radios has something to do with it.

Any of you that knows Bo understands his laid-back, chill style. Even when he’s intense or heartbroken (his wife in the film is a victim of the octopus after her search party goes out looking for her sister and the two guys she was with, them encountering the monster also), Bo Hopkins doesn’t overdo it. He’s not what I consider multi-faceted, or anything, but he’s just got a charm about his style and delivery. He is who the movie follows as the octopus is torn apart by two whales under Bo’s care. The octopus is not exactly Jaws or even Orca, for that matter. And the pacing of the film (or the score which is all over the place) just fails to generate anything beyond a reason to bail. I figure many or most who watch Tentacles will bail in terms of interest or attention. I love the look of the beach, the blue skies, sun and all but give us something to invest in. The monster doesn’t even have a lot to do. And when it does attack, the editing (protecting the budget’s lack of genuine octopus rampage, shocks, or gore) makes sure to conceal the production’s limitations. The whales attacking the octopus at the end as Bo gets trapped in some ocean floor rock terrain (rescued eventually by his diver companion) is also protected by editing and dark water. This all just shits the bed, for lack of a better turn of phrase.

Fonda talks to his business associate about how operations have went too far and need to be under code, Akins worries that Huston will learn too much and then tell everybody which would cause a panic, Winters talks to her boys while under a sombrero (that hat stretches quite a length!) after another scene where she speaks to Huston in the morning about surviving bad marriages and being a strong brother-sister family, and Bo trying to calm the waters of his marriage’s gradual build to a storm; here is what the film does with its cast. That’s about it in a nutshell. Actually I kind of enjoyed Huston in the film as he doesn’t stretch himself too much and remains a competent character. Akins’ sheriff knows the predicament he’s in and tries to keep good relations with Huston’s reporter who could really have made life especially miserable. Bo gets recruited by Huston because of his knowledge in aquatic life. Bo’s work with the whales is fun, I must admit.

But, no offense to the memory of Franco Diogene, he isn’t quite Susan Backlinie. And how could an octopus ripping apart boats not be at least moderately scary? I will sure say that Delia Boccardo, as shot by Roberto D'Ettorre Piazzoli, is striking before the film sends her off a casualty. And Piazzoli’s crane shot right after, as onlookers near the water stand and stare, which moves back at a distance and eventually closes in on Bo’s anguished face is damned impressive. But overall this isn’t exactly masterpiece theater…nor was it designed to be. I wasn’t expecting that, though. However, I was hoping for something entertaining.

*The scene where Bo's rescuer not only carries his body up from the ocean floor all the way to the surface but seems to show no effects of lack of oxygen considering he does all this without any gear, just holding his breath, is as preposterous as two whales spending ten minutes going at the octopus.