Among the
various animals featured in horror films, frogs and toads have produced few
memorable characters. They are most
likely to appear as extras in roiling mob scenes. With the exception of one or two syllables
now and then, they are given few lines.
There is no amphibian equivalent to Queenie, Ben or Socrates, the rodent
characters in Willard (1971, and
again in 2003). Nor has a frog or toad
risen—leaped?—to the prominence of a Cujo, (dog), a Ramón (alligator) or a Q
(winged serpent).
It may
be that their difficulties with stage directions and their near uniform
physical appearance doom frogs and toads to the anonymity of large crowd
scenes. Nevertheless there have been a
few films that allowed batrachians to display their full dramatic range, which
probably “…runs the gamut of emotions from A to B”, as Dorothy Parker once said
in another context.
There
is little need to spend much time discussing Hell Comes to Frog Town (1987) and its two sequels, Return to Frog Town (1993) and Toad Warrior (1996). These depict post-apocalyptic struggles
between what is left of the human race and a society of mutant amphibians. The last film in the series employed a
technique called Zen filmmaking which
involves constant improvisation in the absence of any script or forethought—or money
perhaps. But it sounds like fun. Sadly, no actual amphibians were employed in
these movies, only human actors dressed as frogs.
In Frog-g-g! (2004) an evil capitalist
dumps chemical waste into the water supply of a small town, leading to the
appearance of a monstrous mutated frog.
Once mature, the giant amphibian naturally seeks human females to mate
with. A special agent with the United
States Environmental Protection Agency investigates, but no one in town will
believe the scientist’s theory. This one
was intended as a spoof of “guy-in-a-suit” monster movies from the 1950s and
1960s.
The classic
film in the subgenre of amphibian horror cinema is of course Frogs (1975)—“A tidal wave of
slithering, slimy horror devouring, destroying all in its path!” Though the
amphibians are frequently upstaged by snakes, birds, spiders, lizards,
alligators, leeches and even a snapping turtle, it is strongly implied that the
oversized frogs are leading the local flora and fauna in a revolt against
mankind.
Jason
Crockett, a wealthy landowner and family patriarch, insists on celebrating his
birthday, even as friends and family are being picked off one by one by various
aggrieved critters. Crockett’s island
plantation is the source of toxic pesticides that are threatening the local aquatic
ecology. When Crockett sends an employee
to poison the water and kill all the amphibians in advance of his birthday,
nature mounts a gruesome counter attack.
One of
my favorite scenes is when Crockett’s son Michael investigates a downed
telephone line and is attacked by birds.
When he tries to fend them off he shoots himself in the leg, lands under
a tree, becomes festooned with aggressively mobile Spanish moss, and then is
eaten by descending tarantulas. It was
all a trap set by an evil intelligence, one able to coordinate an ambush by
various organisms. Somehow the many frogs
on the island represent or manifest this intelligence.
In the
climax of the film, old Crockett is alone in his mansion, surrounded by
frogs. The scene is very reminiscent of
the second of ten biblical plagues described in the book of Exodus: “They will come up into your palace and your
bedroom and onto your bed, into the houses of your officials and on your
people, and into your ovens and kneading troughs.” (8:3) One even hops across
his birthday cake, ruining it—although by now there is no one left to eat it.
Frogs was one of several eco-horror
films of the 1970s and 1980s in which an aggrieved Nature took vengeance on
humanity for its abuse of the land and water.
Which abuse of course still continues.
Frogs,
toads and their relatives have thrived on earth for nearly 350 million years,
but amphibian populations are now dropping rapidly across the United States and
in the world. One estimate is that just
under 4% of the amphibian population disappears every year, at which rate most
species will be gone in just two decades.
No single factor accounts for the dramatic
loss, though destruction of habitat, water pollution, disease and over
collection are likely culprits.
What is
scary is that amphibians are declining even in protected areas, suggesting that
the environmental problem is more global and far reaching. Scary, too, because we breathe the same air
and drink the same water that they do.
It would be a shame if our only memory of these interesting creatures
was of the unfortunate frog we dissected in a high school biology class.
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