Friday, May 23, 2008

How to walk the Ross Island Bridge and not die, if you're lucky


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Fresh off my semi-exciting semi-adventures walking across the Morrison Bridge, I thought I'd take a crack at bigger game. Thus it was time to walk across the Ross Island Bridge, once again without dying at any point in the process, and also taking a few photos (the full Flickr photoset is here) and trying to have interesting impressions of the experience to share on the Interwebs. And for some reason this seemed like a really great plan.

ross island bridge

There isn't a lot of info out on the Interwebs about walking across the Ross Island, primarily because it's a bad idea and an unattractive prospect. This bit at The Deuce of Clubs has a bunch of photos, plus a battered bust of Wagner. You know, the opera guy. So if, in the course of this post, you find yourself craving a fix of fancy 19th century Germanness and wondering why there isn't any here, you know exactly where to go. Or whatever.

ross island bridge

I'd actually walked the bridge once before, around 15 years ago. I lived in the Brooklyn neighborhood at the time, a few blocks south of Powell. For the life of me I can't recall why I tried it. It wasn't so I could blog about it; I know that much at least. I did actually have net access way back then, but it wouldn't have occurred to me to post about such a mundane thing. No, the Internet was for serious, important stuff, like the previous week's Star Trek: The Next Generation episode. But I digress. I think I just wanted to go to Powell's or something, and it was a nice sunny day, and I thought I'd walk instead of taking the bus, or trying to find a parking place in the then-dodgy industrial neighborhood around the store, better known as today's glitzy Pearl District. What I remember of the experience was that it was hot, loud, windy, and dusty, with cars, trucks, buses, semis, cement mixers, etc., whizzing by just inches away. It wasn't fun. The return trip was by bus, if that tells you anything.

So with that in mind, I set out to do it again. I'm not sure what that says about me, really.

I'm not sure it would've occurred to me to do it if I hadn't just done a post about the Morrison Bridge. Walking across the Ross Island is not an idea that readily suggests itself. The areas around both ends of the bridge are not pedestrian-friendly, by any stretch of the imagination. Just cars. The surprising bit about this is that the bridge was built way back in 1926, and the present-day approaches to the bridge date to the 1940's. That's quite early to be planning for a car-only future, and I'd be intrigued to know why they did. On the other hand, the fact kind of cramps my style a bit, since I can't blame it on the 60s and riff (semi)amusingly about monorails and jetpacks and whatnot, like I did with the Morrison. Oh, well.

Regarding the pedestrian situation, unlike the Morrison I also can't say, well, thank goodness they're going to fix it in a month or two. ODOT worked on the bridge a few years ago, and among the improvements they added a metal guardrail to keep today's humongous SUVs and so forth from crashing through the old concrete railing. But crucially, they decided to put the guardrail just on the inside of the existing railing. Which not only fails to protect pedestrians from cars, it also makes the existing sidewalk even narrower. Contrast this with the walkway on the upper deck of the Steel Bridge, for example, which places the guardrail where it should be, between vehicles and pedestrians. There's probably some traffic-engineering reason why they did it this way -- perhaps the steel bridge style makes it more likely a vehicle will rebound into traffic, other lanes, other vehicles. And if they were basing the choice on existing conditions, not too many people would've been walking the bridge at the time, so no sense in going to extra trouble to protect pedestrians who aren't even there anyway. I guess. Or it was just cheaper to do it this way. Either way, it's a choice that probably won't be revisited for a long, long time.

ross island bridge

The bridge is fairly photogenic, but that's all it has going for it. It's scary to walk across, and scary to drive across, and I cannot even imagine how scary it must be to ride a bike across it. The bridge ranks #7 at ThingsAboutPortlandThatSuck. It also figures in a funny rant at PSU's Daily Vanguard -- although I don't understand the Eminem and Insane Clown Posse references. (Kids these days...) Elsewhere, the short description at PortlandBridges gives some idea of the traffic weirdness and complexity surrounding the bridge. An even shorter description at Home & Abroad does mention one positive thing about the bridge: "Price: Free". So there's that, at least. There's also a photo of the Ross Island on a "Portland's Bridges" post over on JGaiser's blog.

Before we get to the practical bit, a quick word on what not to do: Do not place any faith whatsoever in walking instructions from the TriMet website. It's a recipe for disaster. Here, for example, are the walking instructions from an eastbound bus stop simply known as "Ross Island Bridge" to the westbound one at SW Kelly & Corbett, which you'll pass on your way to the bridge. Here are TriMet's official government-approved instructions, which are almost poetic in their terseness:


Walk a short distance west on SW Ross Island Brg-naito Pkwy Ramp.
Turn right on SW Water Ave.

Walk a short distance north on SW Water Ave.
Turn right on SW Woods St.
Walk a short distance east on SW Woods St.
Bear left on SW Corbett Ave.
Walk a short distance north on SW Corbett Ave.
Turn right on SW Porter St.
Walk a short distance east on SW Porter St.
Turn left on SW Ross Island Brg-kelly Ave Ramp.
Walk a short distance north on SW Ross Island Brg-kelly Ave Ramp.
Total walking is 0.23 miles.

Sounds reasonably straightforward, except that the underlined bits involve darting through traffic, and probably dying. You really, really, really don't want to do this. Ah, the danger and menace lurking in such innocuous words.

Anyway, let's get to walking. The problems with walking the bridge are threefold: The western approach to the bridge, the bridge itself, and the eastern approach to the bridge. In other words, the whole damn thing. I walked west to east this time, so we'll go that way. Before you can experience the wind, dust, noise, and grime that is the Ross Island Experience, you first have to get to the damn bridge. Let's start around SW 1st & Arthur. That's about the last point you can get to easily, and by following the normal city street grid. If you were in a car and wanted to go east, you'd follow the "Ross Island Bridge" signs -- the ramp up on to (or sorta on to) Naito for a couple of blocks heading south, then a tight curve through an underpass (sorta on Grover St., but not really), and finally a straight shot onto the bridge, albeit with traffic merging on from all directions. If you're walking, ignore the "Ross Island Bridge" signs. You can't go that way. It'd work out if there was a sidewalk on the south side of the bridge, but there isn't. There just isn't. So you basically need to go the way westbound traffic is coming from. If at any point the traffic closest to you is heading the same way you are, you're going the wrong way.

So at 1st and Arthur, you want to be on the corner with the LaGrand Industrial Supply building. Walk east, under the Naito overpass. Just past the overpass there's a corner with a ramp that lets westbound traffic from the bridge get onto Naito going north. Be careful. People who use this are going full speed coming off the bridge, and are expecting to keep going full speed for a while on Naito, and they aren't expecting you to be there. Wait for a nice big gap, and cross when it's "safe". If it's anywhere near rush hour, this may take a while.

Once you're across, you'll see the ominous north entrance to the Arthur St. Tunnel, which is a blog post in itself. Ignore it, unless you're up for an alarming side trip. Arthur becomes Kelly Avenue and makes a clean break with the city street grid, heading sorta-diagonally toward the bridge. So you head SE for a few blocks, crossing a few not-very-busy streets. Then you get to the next obstacle, the ramp where northbound traffic from Macadam merges onto Kelly. Again, watch out. Drivers aren't expecting you to be there, and the fact that you are is liable to make them surly. Once you've crossed that, eventually, you've entered the bridge interchange proper. Here you'll find the "SW Kelly & Corbett" bus stop I mentioned, the purpose of which I can't fathom. It's not exactly easy to get to, and doesn't really connect to anything. I have actually seen people waiting for a bus here, but I don't know where they came from or why. Possibly they were on a previous bus and got off here by mistake, and could only stand around and wait to be rescued by the next bus.

ross island bridge

There's one more street to cross before the bridge, this time a curving ramp where westbound bridge traffic whips around and heads south on Hood Avenue, which eventually becomes the southbound lanes of Macadam. If it's close to rush hour at all, you can probably just give up and come back some other time, because there isn't going to be a safe gap in traffic. Note that due to the way the ramp's situated, drivers won't be able to see you very well until they're almost on top of you, and again, they won't be expecting pedestrians here. So be careful! There's no shame in deciding it's simply not worth it. I kept going, and I'm still not convinced it was worth it.

ross island bridge

Still with me? Ok. Once you're safely across, you might notice there's a stretch of new sidewalk between the "crosswalk" and the bridge proper. I think this is due to Big Pipe construction a year or two ago. One peculiar thing about it is that the new sidewalk includes a ADA-compliant curb cut, to accomodate wheelchairs and vision-impaired pedestrians (see the yellow bit in the above photo). I realize it's required by law and everything, but getting to this spot is kind of scary even with 20/20 vision and running shoes. Putting it out there as a sort of invitation almost seems sort of cruel. The sidewalk project ended at the curb cut, so I suppose whether people could actually get across the street safely was outside the scope of the project.

ross island bridge

In any case, you're past the last traffic barrier now, and now it's time for the bridge itself. As I mentioned earlier, it's a long, long way across the bridge, it's uncomfortably narrow, and there's no barrier between you and the traffic whizzing by a few feet away. It's pretty noisy and windy too, also due to the traffic. You'll get used to all of that eventually, but you'll probably also start feeling a bit impatient, in an "are we there yet?" sort of way. I know I did, at any rate. At least there's an unusual view, so you can stop and look at that when you need a break from all the monotony and trudging.

view from ross island bridge

The bridge is quite high up, to accomodate shipping traffic on the river (which for the most part no longer exists). So you'd think there'd be a pretty picture-postcard view of downtown from here, but the land below and just to the north of the bridge is derelict brownfield land, at least for the time being. Directly across the river is a riverfront cement plant. It's Portland, but not picture-postcard Portland. Don't get me wrong, I'm not advancing the usual PDX argument that industrial land, vacant areas, warehouses, and so forth all need to be turned into condo towers for the idle rich, just because I find the existing uses visually unappealing. I'm just telling you what to expect, that's all.

derelict dock, from ross island bridge

One interesting(?) thing along the west riverbank is a stretch of old pilings and planks, all that's left of a long-ago wooden dock along the river. Ok, it's not much to look at, but it's a rare remnant of the era when the Willamette was a working river this far upstream. When the powers that be get around to redeveloping the vacant land between the Ross Island and Marquam bridges, I'm sure they'll tear it all out, and put in some sort of overpriced public artwork that makes ironic reference to it. I know this because it's what always happens. So take a good look, and then get back to trudging.

ross island, from ross island bridge

One thing you won't get a good look at is Ross Island itself, because it's south of the bridge, and there's no sidewalk on that side. The photo above is about the best look you'll get. Unless, I suppose, you're in an eastbound vehicle, and you're stuck in traffic.

detail, ross island bridge

detail, ross island bridge

Here are a couple photos of the detailing on the bridge railing. You can't get that good of a look at it due to the new-ish guardrail. But hey, there's not all that much else to look at on the way across, so you might as well take a peek.

ross island bridge

This is the "summit" of the bridge. It's all downhill from here.

ross island bridge

Looking west from the "summit". You've come a long way, baby.

> tugboat & barges, ross island cement plant

As you get closer to the east bank, you'll get a closer look at that cement plant I mentioned. I realize that the fashionable Portland thing is to insist that everything vaguely industrial is horrible and icky. But admit it: If you were ever a 3-8 year old boy, at some point this was your dream job. Or at the very least you wanted a playset just like it for Christmas.

ross island cement plant

It looks straightforward enough: Gravel arrives by barge, pushed by a bright yellow tugboat. Then something industrial happens to it, and then cement leaves in bright yellow trucks.

dedication, ross island bridge

Eventually you'll get to the other side. No, really, you will. Seriously. At the east end of the bridge there's a dedication plaque to one Sherry Ross, a pioneer who settled on -- you guessed it -- Ross Island.

cherry blossoms, ross island bridge

Ooh, look! Flowers!

ross island bridge

When you get to the other side, you'll be hot, dirty, and sick and tired of trudging along six inches away from careening tractor trailers. It's time for a beer. Way past time for a beer. And since you're now on SE Powell, it turns out the first OLCC-licensed establishment you'll encounter on the east side, in fact the first structure of any kind, is the Lucky Devil strip club, recently famous (as of 2022) for the drive-thru and food delivery versions of itself during the long COVID-19 lockdown. and before that for multiple incidents of SUVs hopping the curb and smacking into the building. So while you may be off the bridge, you aren't quite out of the woods yet when it comes to vehicular peril. Continuing east the very next building, right across SE 7th, is a weed store, housed in a historic 1949 aluminum shingle warehouse (but that's a whole other blog post I haven't finished yet). So if you have out-of-town visitors who want to check off as many Portlandy tourist checkboxes as possible while they're here, you can check off two of them right here.

Or maybe three, if doing stuff they read about here (an obscure Portlandy blog you probably haven't heard of) ever becomes a big tourist thing, stuff like walking across the Ross Island Bridge. I mean, it could happen, you never know. Like, who would have ever guessed we'd become world-famous for donuts, of all things? And the best part is that you can go ahead and do it now, before it's cool. Possibly years or even decades before.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

faces, dekum building


Architectural details on the historic Dekum Building, downtown Portland...

faces, dekum bldg.

faces, dekum bldg.

faces, dekum bldg.

faces, dekum bldg.

Arthur Street Tunnel expedition


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In a post of mine from about two years ago, I wrote about the creepy old pedestrian tunnel under SW Arthur St., near the Ross Island Bridge:

Here's one of Portland's (thankfully) rare pedestrian underpasses. This is how you're supposed to get across busy SW Arthur St. / Kelly Ave., next to the Naito Pkwy. overpass, and near the Ross Island Bridge.

I assume the similar portal on the other side of the street (which you can see in the background) connects directly to this one. But I don't actually know that from firsthand experience. I've never actually gone down there, and I think I can live a long and happy life without ever giving it a try. For all I know, it might be fabulous and exciting down there, a maze of twisty little passages all alike, full of treasure and magical delights. But I wouldn't bet on it. I've never seen a single other person use it, and descending into the dank recesses of the earth just to cross the freakin' street is not my idea of a good time.

Possibly I've gotten dumber or more reckless in the last two years (and trust me, this wouldn't be the only piece of evidence suggesting that). Or possibly I'm just running low on blog material, which is also possible. In any case, this time around I thought I'd see if I could actually walk through the thing. While toting an expensive camera, no less.

Arthur St. Tunnel

I figured the tunnel would be nasty, so I set a very low bar for success: Go down the steps just far enough to see into the tunnel. If there's anyone else in there, or anyone approaching the tunnel from either end, or it smells bad, or it's full of garbage, or standing water (or any other liquid), or needles, or otherwise looks unsafe or doesn't feel right, declare Mission Accomplished and leave. Maybe take a couple of photos first if you don't have to run to safety immediately.

Arthur St. Tunnel

I seem to have checked it out on a 'good' day, though. The tunnel was empty, and about as clean as you'd expect a decrepit pedestrian underpass might ever be. So I walked through to the other side. Once I realized I couldn't get onto the Ross Island Bridge from the other side (my main goal for the day, and a topic for another post), I turned around and walked back through the tunnel again. So I've been through it twice and lived to blog about it. And quite honestly I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. Walking through the tunnel, I mean, not blogging.

Arthur St. Tunnel

At least the tunnel's straight once you're down the steps. If it curved around under the street and you couldn't see the length of it, I think I would've bailed. As it is, you can see the whole thing, and you could probably see shadows of anyone coming down the stairs on either end. So the walk itself is pretty uneventful, albeit kind of dark.

Arthur St. Tunnel

When I mentioned the tunnel back in 2006, I couldn't find anything at all about it on the interwebs. Now there's only almost nothing out there. The tunnel was the subject of a recent Stumptown Stumper at the Portland Tribune, which explains just about everything you'd ever want to know about the tunnel and several others like it that used to exist around town. It sounds as though the city almost closed the tunnel last year, and only relented when the public complained. Not because anyone particularly likes the tunnel. Far from it; I think there's near-universal agreement that a pedestrian tunnel like this is a really shitty way to cross the street (at times quite literally so). But the city proposal didn't include a good alternative or replacement for the tunnel. I can understand why the city didn't take a crack at that. I'm not sure how you solve this particular problem without untangling the vast Gordian knot of transportation problems in this part of town. The city spent much of the last century layering new half-baked transit ideas on top of the previous ones, culminating in the aerial tram. To wit: If you want a street-level crosswalk, it's a problem because Naito crosses Arthur in an overpass, not a street-level crossing. Even if you could convince the city to put in a light to stop traffic just for pedestrians, I don't imagine it would be very safe at all. So to make a crosswalk work you'll probably also want to replace the overpass with a normal intersection, which incidentally is something the local neighborhood's been lobbying for for decades now. To do that, you'll need to rejigger how cars (and pedestrians and bikes, hopefully) get on and off the Ross Island Bridge, which at present is an extremely confusing and overloaded jumble. Go stare at a map and think about this problem for a while and your brain starts to ache, without coming up with anything that resembles a good idea. If you take a step back and think about what proper connections between downtown, I-5/I-405/Sunset, Barbur, and Macadam on the westside; and the eastside's McLoughlin, Powell, Division, and points east and south... well, it seems (to me) like the real fix would be to build a new bridge over the river, which would be Very Expensive. They're planning to do that for the next MAX project, as it turns out, but they're quite adamant that it'll be for rail, bikes, and pedestrians only. I don't know if that's for financial reasons, or ideological ones, or some combination of the two. In short, the tunnel stays for now.

whats the time (Arthur St. Tunnel)

The only other link I encountered about the tunnel was my earlier post, as it turns out. A while back I submitted the photo in that post to the uber-cool "Entrance to Hell" group on Flickr. Apparently they turned it down as insufficiently hellish. Bastards. Anyway, it's part of my "Arthur St. Tunnel" Flickr set here. FWIW.

Arthur St. Tunnel

While searching the interwebs, I also bumbled across a post about various local underpasses (but not this one) at "PDX Pop Now!" on UrbanHonking. Seems the author's project is to hang around odd spots around town and interview passers-by. An interesting notion, certainly, although if anyone had so much as appeared, much less spoken to me, in the tunnel I'd have just run away. Perhaps not the bravest possible course of action, but hey. If to avoid being shot or stabbed or eaten by the natives, I must also avoid being interviewed by art students, that's a sacrifice I'm afraid I'll just have to accept.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Lotus Isle Expedition


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Today's jaunt takes us to the alluringly-named Lotus Isle Park, tucked away in a quiet residential corner of Hayden Island (ok, Tomahawk Island, technically), a bit east of I-5 and the Jantzen Beach mall.

lotus isle park

The park turns out to be a small finger of land between two houseboat communities, facing a quiet side channel of the Columbia. There's a play structure, a paved path through the park, some picnic tables, grass, and a few trees. It's nice, certainly. A good place to take the kids if you live nearby. A fine place to walk the dog. Great for a picnic, if the weather ever improves someday. But why the exotic fancy name?

You'd never guess by looking around, but this wasn't always a quiet residential neighborhood. Back in the 1920's the area was home to a real, live amusement park named -- you guessed it -- Lotus Isle. Not to be confused with the better-known Jantzen Beach amusement park, which was further west on the island where the mall is now.

lotus isle park

PDXHistory has a great article about the amusement park. (There's a Wikipedia article too, but it's mostly based on the PDXHistory piece.) It's a great story, complete with an actual elephant rampage, among other things. As the article explains, nothing has survived of the park itself. All that's survived are a few rotting pilings from a long-vanished streetcar bridge. Yes, an actual bridge just for streetcars. That ought to give today's transit-junkie community a little thrill. Here's all that's left:

marina & old trestle, lotus isle park

Not exactly the ruins of Pompeii, huh? A page at Lewis & Clark's Columbia River has a few photos of the old trestle with a bit more history. The photos are better than mine -- I only had my little Canon A520 compact back when I took these. In fact the main reason I ended up at the park was that I was headed to the Jantzen Beach Circuit City to go DSLR shopping, and I took a wrong turn and noticed the park as I wandered around. FWIW. The Lewis & Clark site also has a page on Tomahawk Island and the old amusement park.

I must be a generation or so too young to really grasp why some people get all nostalgic and misty-eyed about old amusement parks. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that; it's just that I can't relate to it. By the time I was old enough to beg for things I'd seen advertised, the Disney leviathan was already well on the road to world domination. (Which actually occurred fairly rapidly, once everyone had a TV; it's a small world, after all.) For anyone who's into old amusement parks, here are details on the roller coasters, pipe organ, and carousel, lovingly catalogued for posterity by fans for other fans.

winter trees, lotus isle park

lotus isle park

In any case, here are a few other assorted mentions of the place from around the Interwebs:

  • The present-day park shows up in this 2005 post on Urban Adventure League.
  • Somewhat brief recollections of the park in an oral history.
  • More history about the park from The Webfooters
  • A mention on this page, connected with the World of Darkness roleplaying game. This is the same RPG that sited a vampire lair atop Kelly Butte. Which is entirely plausible if you ask me.
  • A blog post with a photo of today's park at dusk.
  • A history page for the new Salpare Bay condo development, not far away on the north shore of the island.
  • A reference (scroll to the bottom to find it) to a Vancouver Columbian article about the short-lived streetcar between Portland and Vancouver. The streetcar ran on the aforementioned trestle to get to the island, and then traveled the rest of the way on the Interstate Bridge. Which was obviously far less busy than it is now.

Oh, and the rest of my Lotus Isle photos are here. Again, FWIW.

Updated 12/1/12: Offbeat Oregon now has a great article about Lotus Isle, (including a photo from yours truly).

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

as seen on wikipedia


A great thing about the Creative Commons license is that you never know where your stuff will turn up next, or who will use it, or what they'll use it for. Case in point: I recently noticed that a couple of my photos on Flickr were getting hits from Wikipedia. After a bit of poking around, I was surprised to see photos I'd taken gracing a couple of Wikipedia pages. Which is perfectly fine with me -- Creative Commons and all that -- it's just kind of surprising. Does that mean I've finally hit the big time, after years of toiling in the dusty backwaters of blogospace (to coin a mixed metaphor)? Or is it a sign Wikipedia's in even more trouble than I thought? I really don't know what to make of it all.

So check out the articles on Mill Ends Park and O'Bryant Square. The O'Bryant Square article is poorly written and uninformative, and uses one of my Holga photos of the place, if you can believe that. I'm half-tempted to sign up and edit the article myself, but so far I've managed to avoid getting sucked into that particular vortex of the Interwebs. Once you start messing around on Wikipedia, I imagine there's no end to it. There's always another poorly-written article to clean up, or tag with the omnipresent "does not cite references" warning, and there's always a pointless interpersonal flamewar to join. In many ways, Wikipedia seems to be the Usenet of the 21st century. I don't mean that in a derogatory sense, or at least not entirely in a derogatory sense.

A search on Wikimedia Commons shows that over time, over a dozen photos of mine have been uploaded by various people, although most don't appear in actual WP articles, at least that I'm aware of. (I've also added the tag 'wikipedia' to the original photos on Flickr, FWIW)

Attack of the Crab Monsters



Attack of the Crab Monsters DVD

Today's awful movie is "Attack of the Crab Monsters", a 1957 semi-epic from Roger Corman. Wikipedia's article on the film gives a brief plot summary:

A group of scientists land on a remote island in the Pacific to search for a previous expedition that disappeared and to continue research about the effects of radiation from the Bikini Atoll nuclear tests on the island's plant and sea life. They learn to their horror that the earlier group of scientists have been eaten by mutated giant crabs that have gained intelligence by absorbing the minds of their victims. Members of the current expedition are systematically attacked and killed by the crabs, which are invulnerable to most weaponry because of the mutation in their cell structure. Finally, they discover the crabs are the cause of the earthquakes and landslides that are destroying the island. As the remaining expedition members struggle to survive on the ever-shrinking island, they must also find a way to stop the crabs before they reproduce and invade the oceans of the world.


The description makes the movie sound better than it is, believe it or not. Yes, there's a plot in there somewhere, sort of, but it just makes no freakin' sense at all.

There's a reason I haven't done any bad movie posts for a while. They always turn out to be a lot more work than you'd expect, or at least more than I'd expect. You watch a movie a couple of times, make some notes, and then try to mash those notes into a coherent form, no matter how confused and incoherent the movie itself happens to be -- and tonight's movie is more confused and incoherent than most. This post's actually been moldering in my drafts folder for a month now, and I've already sent the movie back to Netflix so I'm not going to see it again anytime soon. So I figure I might as well post my notes and observations and whatnot, along with assorted stuff I found on the interwebs. It's pretty much a random jumble, but hey, so is the movie.

  • The trailer's on YouTube here. It looks like the whole movie may be there, split up in parts -- although I haven't verified that, and I'm not sure it's there legally. So if you look for it and it's gone, you're out of luck. Tough crabmeat.

  • Or if you just want to see the climactic scene (such as it is), it's on MySpace here.

  • The movie's page at BadMovies.org has a few stills and sound clips. I don't have any of those here, because a.) I'm not sure it's copyright-kosher, and I don't want the MPAA's jackbooted thugs giving me a hard time about it. And b.) it would require more effort than I feel like expending. So I do have a photo of the DVD. It's not a very good photo, but then, it's not a very good movie, is it? The only thing remotely special about the photo is that I took it using an ancient lens I found at Goodwill this morning (a preset Takumar 135/3.5, for anyone who cares), and I did this because the lens dates back to 1957, just like the movie. Incidentally, the only camera that appears in the movie is a TLR operated by the German nuclear physicist. As it turns out, TLRs have a distinct drawback here, in that you have to look down into the camera, away from the giant land crab, in order to focus and shoot. Most people don't realize this.

  • More reviews at DVD Drive-In, Delirious, Fantastic Movie Musings & Ramblings, Horror-Wood, The Delirious review reads a hell of a lot into the movie, trying to make it sound deep. I remain unconvinced.

  • A poem inspired by the movie. Seriously. It makes a lot more sense than the movie, if you ask me -- a situation that rarely occurs in the (in itself rather rare) translation from film to poetry.

  • The animated title sequence is cool -- despite being mostly about octopi, which don't appear in the actual film.

  • The intro takes an odd second-person tone, as if it's the start of a videogame (or maybe an old choose-your-own-adventure book):

    "You are about to land in a lonely zone of terror . . on an uncharted atoll in the Pacific!

    You are part of The Second Scientific Expedition to this mysterious bit of Coral reef and volcanic rock. The first group has disappeared without a trace! Your job is to find out why!

    There have been rumors about this strange atoll . . frightening rumors about happenings way out beyond the laws of nature..."


  • And then we get a rotating globe, highly overexposed. And then nuclear tests, a bunch of stock H-bomb footage. Then floods due to the nuclear test, and people running away as their village is destroyed. Nice miniature work, considering the era and the budget.... Actually I wouldn't be surprised if the opening disaster footage with the miniatures and fleeing crowds is from some other movie with a bigger budget. That would be the Corman way, after all.

  • Right after that, we get a dash of that ol' time religion, with a narrator intoning:

    "And the lord said, I will scorn man who I have created from the face of the earth, both man and beast and creeping thing and the fowls of the air, for it repenteth me that I have made them."


    Anybody know if this is a real biblical quote? I mean, the actual bible, not just something Pat Robertson said when he was off his meds. I'm no expert on these things, and the general tenor of it does sound sort of Old-Testamenty, but the wording just doesn't sound right. "It repenteth me"? Say what?

  • Actually I may have those intro bits out of order. I'm not sure now. I doubt reordering them would make them make any more sense, though.

  • The crab costume is pretty awesome. You have to admit it's a highly cool, cheesy, crappy B-movie giant crab, so far as B-movie giant crabs go. It's not that the crabs are perfectly realistic, don't get me wrong. They have faces, with big googly Jim Henson-type eyes. They even have nostrils. And when the crab is trashing the house, it roars like a lion. Well, you hear a lion-ish roar on the soundtrack. You don't actually see it roar. Making its mouth move would've cost money, you know.

  • Speaking of the giant-crab-in-da-house scene... Why do our heroes just stand on the other side of the door when there's a giant crab lurking behind it? And then they just hang out for a while and wait, and then look to see if it's gone?

  • Lots of scenes of people reacting to things we don't see: "there was a mountain there yesterday, now it's gone" and "It has only appeared in the last twenty minutes. And it's over fifty feet deep." If the film was remade today, it would be an hour longer, and the other hour would be all CG showing the stuff they just tell us about.

  • The interior sets are classic 50's den. Wood paneling, decorated with paintings and various tchotchkes, all shipped to the remote South Pacific just to make a bunch of scientists feel at home.

    Either a.) the interior scenes were filmed in someone's basement to save money, or b.) they were filmed on a home-sweet-home set left over from some other movie, to save money.

  • The earthquakes aren't very realistic. This was a very early entry in the genre of reacting-to-fake-motion cinema, and clearly there was still much to be learned about getting the actors and the camera shake in sync. It's not Star Trek by any means.

  • Philosophical implications of the crabs absorbing the minds & personalities of various people. Is the crab just impersonating them to catch prey, or do the people really continue to exist as part of the crab & just see things in a new light ("Preservation of the species. Once they were men. Now they are land crabs.")

  • Too many plot holes and nonsensical twists to list. For example, why did their plane (a Catalina flying boat) explode? I suppose it exploded because they had some stock footage of one exploding. Also, they needed a quick plot device to maroon everyone on the island. But the explosion is never explained. Nobody even seems all that surprised by it. Our brave scientists adopt an "oh, that's too bad" sort of attitude, which I think is taking scientific detachment just a step or two too far.

  • And if you like nonsensical plot twists, you'll love the bit near the end where the German guy discovers oil and rushes off into a cave to find more, ignoring the constant earthquakes and, oh, giant land crabs. Lesseee... obsessive secrecy, an all-consuming lust for oil... I have to wonder, did Dick Cheney see this movie as a kid and decide he wanted to be Weigant when he grew up? We'll probably never know for sure, but you have to admit it would explain a lot.

  • The woman doesn't get to do much as a marine biologist, except swim around in SCUBA gear a couple of times. Even though the crabs are underwater part of the time (despite being land crabs). She wears a sort of short-shorts/swimsuit outfit in the water, with a bathing cap to keep the hair dry. On land, she wears the tight collared shirt typical of 50's SF movies, the ancestor of today's white tank top. Girdle & bullet bra, ancestor of silicone, I guess. It's all very tame; you have to have watched as many of these as I have to realize it's supposed to be T&A.

  • There's no safer job than being the only female scientist on the expedition. You'll always make it out alive, along with one of the male castmembers. That's the good news. The bad news is he'll probably leer at you and make a crack about Adam and Eve before the credits roll. And if you do make it back alive, you've probably got a lifetime of cooking and cleaning to look forward to. Niiiice.

  • Incidentally, that doesn't happen in this movie. As soon as our self-sacrificing second hero dies while offing the last(?) giant crab, there's a quick reaction shot from our two survivors, and wham, end of film, the lights go up and the ushers shoo you out of the theater to make way for the next batch of eager cineastes. Rescue? What's that?

  • One of the less compelling love triangles to grace the silver screen. At first when our heroine started making eyes at the local handyman, I figured the filmmakers had just screwed up and forgotten which guy was the love interest. Which would be understandable really, as neither man really stands out in the mind. But no, later they make like they're going to kiss or something, and have a short chat about hero #1. Hero #2 seems crestfallen, even though it seems like she wouldn't entirely mind if hero #1 became crab chow. As soon as he figures out he probably won't get the girl in the end, we know he's a goner. That's how it always works.

  • At one point, our heroine says she'd better fix food for everyone. Usually they just make coffee for the other scientists in this sort of film. Back in college, a sociology prof actually lectured about this, saying that this was a real-world phenomenon. Even when you were in theory equal to the men in the department/expedition/starship crew, somehow it was still your job to make sure everyone had food, coffee, and so forth. She called the phenomenon "waitressing", and wrote a paper on the topic after realizing she herself was doing it at a meeting with colleagues. I'd like to think society's progressed a bit since the Boomers were first entering academia. I don't know what academia is really like these days, but surely by now everyone realizes that fixing dinner, making coffee, and performing menial domestic chores are tasks beneath scientists of either gender. That's what graduate students are for.

  • The film features a shifty German nuclear physicist, straight from Central Casting, who knows more than he'll say, or at least he implies he does. He gets eaten before he can fess up, probably because the screenwriters couldn't figure out what he was hiding. If you're hiding something, why the constant stream of cryptic, portentious comments? He arrives on the island in dark glasses and a trenchcoat. I can see the dark glasses, it being a tropical Pacific island and all, but a trenchcoat?

  • An example of his secretive Teutonic shiftiness: "Are you hiding something from us, doctor? A theory, perhaps?"
    "Maybe."

  • Another: "Doctor Weigant, you are a great nuclear physicist, while I am a provincial botanist. But there are things I do not understand."
    "there are many things I do not understand also, Jules. You had better climb."

  • Jules, the provincial botanist, is the token French guy, again straight from Central Casting. He doesn't do much in the film, until he manages to get his hand sliced off by a falling stalactite (or was it a stalagmite? I can never keep those straight.) It's a remarkably clean cut for something done by a falling rock, but no matter. They bundle Jules back to the house and put him to bed, but his big scene is yet to come. He supplies the film's one real moment of pathos: The crabs call to him in the voice of a previously-eaten scientist. The wounded, half-delirious French guy stumbles out to follow the voices, only to get a giant crab claw around his neck. So, so sad.

  • Then the crabs start talking with Jules's voice. I did enjoy that part, crabs speaking with a French accent. I'm not sure why exactly. The crabs already look like Henson characters, and with that silly accent, you half expect John Denver to show up and sing a duet with the damn things.

  • Decent underwater footage, although obviously shot in a tank. The credits note the underwater scenes were shot at Marineland of the Pacific, an erstwhile aquarium in the LA area. Closed in 1987 and spend the next couple of decades as an abandoned amusement park, until developers finally got hold of it. Seems there's an entirely different movie in this.

  • SCUBA footage was a B-movie staple back in the day, and it never really worked very well. There's no dialogue, of course, and faces are hidden by the scuba gear, and you can't tell people apart. And generally nothing really crucial to the plot happens during a scuba sequence. The story just comes to a screeching halt until the scuba stuff is over, and the scuba stuff tends to go on far longer than it needs to.

  • Some choice crab-related quotes from the film.
    "Land crabs and seagulls. Everything else is dead." The seagull bit is never explained. And unfortunately we never encounter any giant seagulls. It's a real shame -- giant homicidal seagulls would be pretty damn creepy.
    "Nothing but land crabs"
    "What's down there?"
    "What could be, other than earth, water, and a few land crabs?"
    "Helpless, nothing. Did you ever see a bunch of them start on a wounded Marine? They finish him off in five minutes."

  • Nesting sea turtles for target practice? Jeebus. The 50's really were a dark and primitive time.

  • Nobody seems to be surprised when disembodied voices call to them. They just go, "Oh, that's McClain from the first expedition that disappeared, I'll go see him."

  • Our heroine and one of the lesser scientists answer the disembodied voice of "McClain" and wander off to look for him. This involves rappelling down into a newly-formed pit, using primitive 1950's climbing technology (i.e. just a rope). The lesser scientist takes a tumble, and she faints or passes out or something. When she comes to, there's no sign of ol' whatsisname. "He went into the pit. He must have fallen during the quake", she explains. She conveniently fails to mention she was helping.

  • People are commenting on someone down in the pit, either McClain or the other guy (I forget which), wondering if he might be alive down there:
    "He could be, assuming this was caused by a disturbance."

  • At one point Weigand picks up a microscope and looks into it, handheld. Um, that's not going to work. Plus he's a physicist. So I guess he might not know about how to work a microscope.

  • When the Navy grunts get eaten (after we no longer need them as comic relief), the crabs don't really use their voices much. The class divide continues, even after being assimilated by giant energy crab-monsters.

  • Other than the dynamite-as-poker-chips bit, the Navy guys really don't serve much of a purpose. If the movie ever explains why the scientists needed a team of demolitions experts, the explanation must be so quick that I keep missing it.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

notes to self, photo edition

One of my many bad habits is that I spend an inordinate amount of time surfing the net on the ol' Crackberry. If I have a spare moment, or I'm bored, or nobody's looking, or nobody I know is looking, or nobody I particularly like is looking, or I generally just feel the inclination, I tend to whip out the BB and start Googling about. It's convenient, but it's really not the best web browsing experience you could ask for, so often once you've found a page you want to bookmark it for future reference with a 'real' computer. Adding it to the BB's bookmarks isn't too useful; if there's any way to sync its bookmarks with those on a host machine, I've never seen it, and I'm not sure that would be useful anyway. I've figured out how to post to del.icio.us from the BB, but the process is rather inconvenient. What I've found works best is to just mail page addresses to another (non-BB) email account.

So the other day I thought I'd go through and organize my pile of emailed links. I soon realized most of them were photo-related, and those alone made for a rather substantial list. Once I had that list formatted up half-decently, I thought, hey, I've put some work into this, I might as well share the result. I'm not sure it'll be useful for anyone except me, but hey, it might be...