| If all those retail stores can
have "Christmas In July" sales, we at HORROR-WOOD can run a "snowman in
July" article. Besides, on a hot summer day it's quite refreshing to get a
chill or two from... 
By JOE WINTERS
Man? Monster? Missing Link? For years, much has
been made of the legendary mountain-dwelling creature called the Yeti, sometimes known as
the Abominable Snowman. Do they exist, or are they merely the product of human imagination
passed down through generations? As with most legends, surely the Yeti must have some
basis in fact.
Though unseen (at least by most of us), Yeti was an
official protected species in the Kingdom of Nepal until the mid to late 1950's, according
to Lama Surya Das, one of the foremost American Lamas in the Buddhist tradition and author
of "Wisdom Tales From Tibet."
It was during that decade when filmmakers, eager to
capitalize on the legend, took it upon themselves to get the snowball rolling with
variations of their own. The results were mostly less than legendary, as a closer sampling
of these films will show.
Our expedition begins in 1954 with The Snow
Creature, directed by W. Lee Wilder, the low-budget brother of famed writer/director
Billy.

For those who can't get enough of W. Lee's films,
check out Phantom From Space (1953) and Killers From Space (1954).
Anyway, from L.A. to Bombay to Shekkar and the
Himalayas in excess of ten-thousand feet, Doctor Frank Parrish (Paul Langton) and his
boozy photographer Leslie Denison (Peter Wells) arrive amidst reports of a monster
terrorizing the village and abducting its women. After a grueling ordeal up the mountains,
the group takes refuge in a cave where a trail, including a native bracelet and a mountain
goat skeleton, leads them to a Yeti which resembles a walking carpet, but is at least
dimly lit so as not to appear even more ridiculous. The creature causes a cave-in, which
accidentally kills his female Yeti mate and child, while he himself is only stunned. From
there, the old boy is stashed in a very large refrigerator and taken to California.
While the debate rages over whether the thing is
human or not, the monster escapes to resume its marauding ways while otherwise hiding out
in the city's cooler storm drains. After a truly tedious search (where the shadowy shot of
it stalking the same dark street appears more than once!), the monster is netted, shot and
killed during a struggle.
Was this the last of old Snowy? Well, yes
and
no.

Other filmmakers had other ideas, and so it fell to
budding schlockmeister Jerry Warren to take some stock footage, mix some bad actors in
with it, and unfold the tale of two expeditions, one in search of the other, and the first
including a half-breed Yeti disguised as a human! In Man-Beast (1956), this
missing link not only has murder on his mind, but romantic mating designs on the hottest
looking gal around (well, the only gal around, but easy on the eyes nonetheless)!
The inevitable fight between man-beast and leading man means death for one. Afterward, the
leading lady gasps:
"Take me away from here, Steve! Take me
away!" Here's a hint
Steve was not the man-beast (unless details of the
honeymoon prove otherwise).
Not exactly a household name to many, save die-hard
bad movie buffs, director Warren went on to give us such bargain basement bonanzas as Teenage
Zombies (1958), The Incredible Petrified World (1958), The Wild World Of
Batwoman (1966), and Frankenstein Island (1981), to name but a few.
However, with its malevolent-minded title
character, Man-Beast holds the interest a bit more than Snow Creature,
which may not be saying much, but both are in good/bad company with our next
offering, Half Human (1957).

John Carradine, as an American scientist, sits
behind a desk and lights up his cigarette (at any moment you expect him to look at the
camera and say, "Alright, pay me."). The film does get a little more exciting as
professor Carradine narrates to a couple colleagues the story of a party of skiers in the
mountains of Japan. Among them, Carradine's two assistants were killed, and the only clue
was footprints near the cabin. A mold of a footprint indicates a creature of great height
and weight (guess who?).
Carradine continues the story of Professor Tanaka's
search to find what was considered the Missing Link, a "Snow Man" whom the
villagers worship as a god. What follows are a series of continued flashbacks and
flash-forwards combining the Carradine scenes with a whole different (and I'm told, better)
movie directed by Japan's famed Ishiro Honda (who gave us Godzilla and a whole slew of
other big monsters).

Unlike in The Snow Creature, the upright
ape-like beings in Half Human (father and son) are seen in the light of day and
seem to mean no harm unless provoked, which, alas, they are. Circus owners capture Junior
and incur the wrath of Daddy. Toppled trucks, landslides, and a trail of destruction lead
to tragedy and death in a pit of bubbling water.
A tacked-on epilog allows Carradine to offer the
hope of "new discoveries leading to clues to the evolution of man." Whatever,
but it is a pity that Toho Pictures' original Ju Jin Yuki Otoko (1955) has all
but disappeared, the result of a dispute with Ainu tribe lobbyists. That film may well
have proved to be the best of the lot.
For now, that distinction goes to Hammer Studios'
1957 film The Abominable Snowman Of The Himalayas), where mysticism and
philosophy play a part in the discovery of a race of powerful and intelligent man-like
creatures. Despite the local Lhama's denial of the Yeti's existence, Doctor John Rollason
(Peter Cushing, reprising his role from the 1955 BBC teleplay), along with big game hunter
Tom Friend (Forrest Tucker, later of TV's F Troop) and crew set out to find the
beasts and bring one back alive.

Rollason theorizes that the creatures are a
parallel development of man, and benefiting from years of isolated evolution. When a Yeti
is shot and killed, its fellow creatures know it, and their wails echo along the
mountains. One by one, the human explorers are driven mad and killed, until Rollason
himself, with understanding and reason still intact, finds himself eye to eye with the
creatures. In one of those wonderful Peter Cushing moments, all is revealed to him, and
through him, to us and to our own imaginations.
Director Val Guest had previously distinguished
himself with Hammer's top drawer science fiction films The Quartermass Xperiment (1956)
and Quatermass 2 (1957). In The Abominable Snowman, he wisely shrouds
the mysterious beings in shadow, as W. Lee Wilder did in The Snow Creature,
though not so as to hide a cheap-looking monster.

In the case of The Abominable Snowman the
shadows also serve to help preserve the enigma of a race endowed not merely with towering
physical presence, but also of advanced mental capacity (complete with mind
control abilities) and wisdom beyond most human comprehension.
Over the years, an abominable snowman of one sort
or another has dropped in as an escaped beast from an alien spaceship in Jerry Warren's
Lapland lollapalooza Invasion Of The Animal People (1959), or as one of director
George Pal's Seven Faces Of Dr. Lao (1964), or as an antagonist to Spanish
werewolf Waldemar Daninsky (Paul Naschy) in La Maladicion de la Bestia (The Curse Of
The Beast), aka Night Of The Howling Beast (1975).

As for the "real" Yeti, we draw your
attention to the subject of a recent British documentary set in the Kingdom of Bhutan, on
the eastern side of the Himalayas, where DNA analysis of a long black hair suggests an
unknown species. A former royal guard describes his encounter with the Migyur (as the Yeti
are called by the Bhutanese) as something around nine feet tall with enormous hairy arms,
a red face, and a nose like a chimpanzee.
Man? Monster? Missing Link? Figments of the human
imagination, or something real that would be best left alone? As the ongoing mystery and
deepening search would indicate, someone apparently believes in them.
The question is
do you?
Thanks, Joe. One reason that
the famed "snowman" has proven so elusive may be simply because he finds the
world outside his own borders to be quite "abominable."
Article copyright © Joe Winters
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