Retro Flashback Presents: Night Of The Lepus

 

Welcome back to Retro Flashback. Today, we have a special treat for the nature vs. man enthusiasts. We will encounter issues of overpopulation, ecological balance, and of course gigantic rabbits. You may ask yourself, “How does watching Night Of The Lepus make me a better horror fan?” The simple answer is: “it doesn't.” We have learned that sometimes the best way to find great films is to sit through the ones that are absolutely horrible. As if to say, they make the good ones that much better.

“How many eyes does horror have? How many times will terror strike?”

In the beginning:

In 1972 director William F. Claxton was a busy man. He had already created a few episodes of The Twilight Zone and The Rifleman but his huge TV hit Bonanza was still airing new episodes. Prior to his next wave of acclaim with Little House On The Prairie, he decided to make a quick buck directing a horror film. You may ask yourself, “What happens when a celebrated director in the Western genre turns to horror?” He makes a horror film so tame that you could literally pet the monster. Where could someone come up with the idea of gargantuan rabbits terrorizing Arizona? From the politically charged sci-fi novel, of course. 

Russell Braddon's 1964 novel Year Of The Angry Rabbit, features a political satire of the Australian government. The story was conceived as an anti-war, anti-power, anti-capitalism parable. The novel centered on a wealthy landowner with political ties. He forces the prime minister, who is up for re-election, to develop a weapon to defeat the growing rabbit population. I think of the landowner as a Raymond Tusk type character who uses his influence over President Walker. The weapon created turns out to be a super weapon that the Prime Minister uses to gain control of the world. The only thing that stands in his way of world dominance are the side-effects of his weapon – giant mutant rabbits with a taste for flesh. While the novel incorporates humor to tell its outlandish tale, the film's two writers: Don Holliday and Kojak's own Gene R. Kearney, decided to remove any satirical subtext. With the intentional comedy removed, all the actors play straight in light of the absurd narrative they're in.

To say Claxton was out of his comfort zone is an understatement. In an attempt to make the production more within his range of abilities as director, he treated the film like a Western. He surrounded himself with actors and crew from his past and made the decision to disregard any techniques from seventy years of horror cinema – bravo!

What's it all about?

“Attention! Attention! Ladies and gentlemen, attention! There is a herd of killer rabbits heading this way and we desperately need your help!”

 In case you were not aware, they will tell you twice during the beginning of the film: “Lepus is the Latin word for rabbit.” Which technically Lepus is the Latin word for hare, but we'll give you that one. The original title, Rabbits, was felt to be too timid, so MGM opted for Night Of The Lepus and designed posters without showing the monster. They hoped no one knew what Lepus meant. Here's my question: if they believed the rabbits would not be scary enough to entice audiences, then why would you make a horror film about giant bunnies?

 “But, doctor, rabbits as big and ferocious as wolves? It is inconceivable.”

Yes it is. Just as inconceivable as making a monster movie about ferociously fluffy animals and expecting it to terrify anyone. Lets look at the sub-genre of natural horror. These are films in which nature attacks humans. We know the big films after 1972 like Jaws, Arachnophobia, Squirm, Piranha, Starship Troopers, Graveyard Shift, Lake Placid, and Anaconda. They all feature animals and insects versus mankind. These films feature creatures that are in some sense actually scary. Whether it be millions of worms, man-eating fish, alien praying mantis', killer spiders, or flesh-hungry rats, these films deliver on the promise of scares. They provide fear by showing us that we are only a freak accident or alien war away from losing our dominance within the food chain. The landscape was not too different in 1972. If you look at the films that came before Night Of The Lepus you will see spiders, mutated grasshoppers, wasps, bees, birds, snakes, atomic reptiles, radiated ants, great white sharks, huge leeches, and killer shrews. Even killer rats were featured the year before in Willard. What made Claxton believe that rabbits would be the next deadly animal?

Let's pretend that the bunny rabbits are scary, and lets focus on the narrative. The film begins with a TV report that utilizes real footage of a bunny population explosion. They describe the events as bunny “outbreaks.” In capable hands, we may have had a story about man's overpopulation and how an ecological balance must be found in order to survive. Enter Rory Calhoun as Cole Hilman, the rancher with everything to lose if he doesn't find a way to create balance. Rory Calhoun would find fame later in life with Motel Hell (1980) and Hell Comes To Frogtown (1988). Hilman found a way to naturally get coyotes off his land, but without them, the bunnies have taken over. Who can find a non-toxic solution to his problem? Possibly someone familiar with marsupials and their habits. No, lets try the Bennett family, who are apparently the worst scientists ever. Roy Bennett, played by Stuart Whitman (who went on to Tobe Hooper's Eaten Alive (1977) and voiced a character in Aaahh!! Real Monsters), sums up all he knows about science in one line: “I wish I knew what the effects of this serum would be?” He then uses said serum on a rabbit. 

Roy Bennett's wife Gerry is played by the fantastic Janet Leigh. She only agreed to do the film, simply because it was filming near where she was living – it was convenient. Gerry dumbs down all the science talk for us. For an audience that wouldn't understand the word Lepus, it was very important to make the dialogue very simple. Gerry describes to their daughter and us, how they are going to stop the overpopulation of the rabbits, “We're going to make Jack more like Jill and Jill more like Jack.” Thanks for clearing that up. As an audience we are just lucky that the Bennett's have a young child, so when they discuss things that are too intellectual we get the stupid version they tell Amanda. Amanda is also the reason we have a movie. She switches the serum rabbit for a regular rabbit and then whines until her parents let her take one home. She takes the serum rabbit, because it is her “favorite.” In a tearjerking scene, Amanda's rabbit is stolen from her and let loose. Thankfully, the bunny goes and populates quickly, or else we wouldn't have a stampede of “rabbits as big and ferocious as wolves.”

Later, Amanda is traumatized by the events at Captain Billy's gold mine. She goes into shock after she sees Captain Billy. Or maybe its when she sees extreme close-ups of rabbits that have ketchup smeared in their fur. Next, we have an attempt at scaring the audience. A truck driver randomly stops on the highway to check on his cargo. He also sees extreme close-ups of bunnies. When he is attacked off screen he lets out a good stock Wilhelm scream. The police show up to investigate the scene. It appears as though the rabbits have successfully carried all of the boxes out of the truck. The first cop finds the truck driver dead but still breathing. He's been torn to pieces and covered in tomato sauce. The medical examiner deduces synonyms for eaten, “Gnawed, chewed, bitten!” To which someone asks the obvious question, “What do we have here, vampires?” At this point we are ready to believe anything this film throws at us.

In an attempt to destroy the rabbits Roy, Gerry, Cole, Star Trek's Dr. McCoy (yes, in the downtime between Star Trek and Star Trek, DeForest Kelley chose this role), and an extra decide to blow up Captain Billy's gold mine. Deep in the mine we finally see the rabbits in all their enormous glory, but since there's nothing else in the shot to aid in our perspective they look like normal domestic bunnies. Prior to the explosion, a bunny emerges from the ground and attacks the extra. We see close ups of the attack, so basically we see someone in a bunny costume pawing at the man. This scene does carry with it Gerry's brilliant line:“Calm down, he's gone. The rabbit's gone.”

The cave-in doesn't work and now the rabbits are even more hostile. Their first stop as a herd is Hilman's farm. Cole and his family hide in the storm shelter as the rabbits raid his kitchen above them. We finally see them in relation to other objects, its only fifty minutes into the film. Cole uses a shotgun on a few of the rabbits and we see them explode. They leave Cole's and head to the general store. Now, we get to see them scurrying about on the equivalent of a hobby railroader's train set. If you miss this shot of them hopping down the highway, don't worry, they will use this footage again and again until the end. Speaking of end, lets just skip to it. I don't want to spoil how things turn out for our beloved characters, but I will entice you with their second plan for killing the hopping fiends. Sheriff Cody somehow deploys the National Guard. They come with their guns and helicopters and await instruction from a small town sheriff. The plan is set in motion: get a bunch of teenagers from the drive-in to line up with their lights on, somehow force the rabbits to cross electrified railroad tracks, and shoot them. Like I said, I won't spoil the end.

How does it rate?

Sometimes you just have to watch something so terrible that it helps to put other horror films into perspective. Other times, the film is just too terrible to even gain perspective from. While the attempt at trying to create rabbits as terrifying monsters is humorous, I'd rather watch a Killer Tomatoes marathon. I'm aware that Lepus has found somewhat of a cult following, and there are worse movies to sit through, but as far as your education is concerned this film only earns you a Trade School Certificate. Sorry Claxton, but you should have at least watched one horror film before making your own.

Here's a breakdown of the categories:
True Landmark - - Absolutely essential.
Certified Geek -- For a more seasoned viewer.
Esoteric Necessity -- Difficult to find, but worth the search.
PHD -- You may begin prescribing horror.
Masters Degree -- Cult cinema for higher education.
Bachelor's Degree -- Horror snobs begin here.
Associate's Degree -- Shot well with a few scares.
Trade School Certificate -- One or two learning moments.
Copycat Junk -- There's no point.
Scraping The Bottom -- When there's nothing else.