Three euphoric grunts for the flick that launched the sexpotdom of Raquel Welch who jiggles around the Canary Islands in a delicious buckskin bikini with her mono-brow’d cave stud Tumak (John Richardson).
During their journey, our unlikely couple are confounded by the burgeoning social intricacies of the Shell and Rock people who find it virtually impossible to shake their prehistoric urge to brain each other with the nearest pointy object. Like, nothing’s changed, man. FX-deity Ray Harryhausen provides some typically dynamite dino brawls to cut in among the forced-perspective footage of sleepy lizards.
Fans of Bond-babe Martine Beswick will understandably mourn the absence of her belly dancing scene and other footage excised for U.S. theatrical distribution. Only knocking off half a star for that considering Beswick and Welch’s blonde vs. brunette cave-girl catfight is quite the consolation.
No breasts. 19 corpses. Amateur dentistry. Shell-ular phones. Hog rasslin. Hand biting. Bimbo bird chow. Pork-roast induced domestic conflict. Swimmin’ hole frolicking.
