Spawn of the Devil

If any film deserves the right to have its name in the dictionary under the definition of B-Movie, it's the 1972 horror epic 'Frogs'.

The plot, of course, is of only cursory relevance. But for the sake of those who give a flying proverbial, it follows the story of disabled millionaire Jason Crockett, played by Oscar-winner(!) Ray Milland, and his be-flared family who live in a palatial mansion somewhere in the swamps of Okefenokee. They are partial to a bit of careless pollution. The titular Frogs take offence to this kind of behaviour. So they wage war upon the Crocketts, and all who associate with their frog-hating kind.

But you don't really want to hear about that. What you want to hear about are the meticulous production values that mark out this film as a seminal example of the genre.

Gasp in amazement as you see a man in a wheelchair pull a revolver on a snake which is hanging from a chandelier. I say 'hanging', but what I really mean is 'being held by a human hand'. I know this because I can see it. Watch through your fingers as another man stumbles into a greenhouse, closes the door behind him, then fails to notice as a score of lizards (somehow) follow him inside to loiter around menacingly amongst plant pots on shelves. See how they knock over open bottles vaguely labelled 'Poison'. Shudder as the man chokes to death on the fumes. Howl in terror as seagulls swoop down on a garden to scare some protagonists - not because breadcrumbs fly across the screen in an effort to lure them. No. Definitely not. Then scream for your life as another man wrestles an alligator which has had its mouth taped shut.

And all the while, the Frogs look on; leering at the mayhem they have caused without having to take a single human life themselves, because the Frogs rain down their justice with the most chilling power of all: telekinesis.

Frogs: you'll croak. To death.