The Snow Creature

By Richard Romano

One of the great creatures in the field of cryptozoology is the Yeti, otherwise known as the Abominable Snowman. Kind of an Asian Bigfoot, the Yeti has eluded actual sighting, and most of the evidence for its existence is weird footprints in the snow, which most reliable experts attribute to bears. Stories of the Yeti date from the 1800s, so I would imagine we would need to be talking about a whole race of them, unless the one Yeti is very very old. In that case, it’s no wonder he has rarely been seen, since, at about 200 years old, he probably wouldn’t get out much.

Anyway, the Yeti is the focus of The Snow Creature, and I think if that creature does still exist he should sue the makers of this movie for libel.

As a movie, it seems that entire shots were reused over and over again, typically of Sherpas climbing a mountain, police walking through storm drains, or the creature itself (which looks like it could have been the mascot for the Nationwide Carpet Remnant Warehouse) walking into the light, and backing out of the light. Ultimately, I think there’s about five minutes of original footage in this movie.

And we open on a map of India. India! One of our adventure holidays. The voiceover narration tells us, “Cradled within the arms of the rivers Ganges to the east and Brahmaputra to the south, and the mysterious plateau of Tibet to the north...”—it’s not that mysterious; just ask Richard Gere—“...majestically stands the mightiest mountain range on earth.” The Adirondacks? Ah, the Himalayas. We are told that this is going to be the story (and we use the term loosely) of a botany expedition to the “rugged barrier.” As it turns out, the plant life indigenous to the region has been unknown to modern science. And I can’t imagine why that would be.

“This is the story of that mission, of how a small group of people found themselves in pursuit of a crude and primitive civilization.” Of plants? And for some reason the picture goes all wavy, as if we are about to segue into a dream sequence. So is this entire movie just one crazy dream? That does seem the most plausible explanation. Thunder crashes, snow blows and looming out of the forbidding wasteland comes...the title! The terror of it all!

There is also no truth to the rumor that the “snow creature” is Syracuse University’s mascot. Now, if they made a horror movie about a giant furry orange, that would be...well, it would be something.

Now we are seeing a plane flying over California. The narrator is actually the botanist leading this expedition. Check. “Starting in Los Angeles, California, and after careful study of the region.” L.A.? I bet. As the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard indeed. “The first leg of the expedition took me to Bombay, India.” Wait...they’re flying over the pyramids of Egypt. So...he flew east from L.A. to get to India? Well, that’s certainly taking the long way around! He must fly Continental.

And now we are coming into Bombay (now Mumbai, of course; even the witch doctor from Bewitched changed his name to Dr. Mumbai). From there he proceeds to the village of G’Kar. Huh? Can that be right? Was it settled by the Narn? Oh, Shekar. Once there, he selected 10 Sherpas to serve as porters. Not chambermaids? Finally, our narrator says dramatically, “My name is Parrish. Dr. Frank Parrish.” Sorry, pal, you’re a botanist, not James Bond. Along with him is Peter Wells, “well-qualified to serve as a photographer.” Or Wells-qualified. But then we see Mr. Wells take a big swig from a whisky flask. Funny, his pictures are crystal clear but reality tends to be a bit blurry. And his guide is Subra, the only English-speaking Sherpa he could find. Just looking at Subra you can tell he’s choking back the bile of resentment. He glances over at the photographer swigging the whisky and licks his lips. I guess we’ll have to see how this develops.

“Only the most essential equipment was selected.” But why the Jet-Skis? Good grief, they’re taking along the entire contents of that warehouse from the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, by the looks of it. I’d hate to think what they considered non-essential. “Well, we’ve got a DVD player and every episode of Law and Order. We don’t need water, right?” Sounds like me packing for a camping trip. “At noon on June 14th, we set out to strike at the mountain.” What did the mountain do to you? Must you always lash out?

Along for the first, 25-foot leg of the journey, was Subra’s young wife Talla (and her twin sister Hassee?) and Subra’s brother, Leva, which is how they say “lever” in Brooklyn, as in “pull da leva.” Subra gives Talla a shoelace to remember her by. It’s rather touching.

“The first days were uneventful, monotonous, tedious.” That explains the movie so far.

And we get a montage of the gang ascending the mountain. Which mountain? They didn’t say, but they’re all pretty good.

“Mount Everest. Forbidding. Aloof. Terrifying. The mountain with the biggest tits in the world.”

Start again!

“Wells and I kept up with the Sherpas, who were like human mules under the weight of our supplies.” Nice. I give it another 100 yards before the Sherpas pitch him and Wells over the side of a cliff. Any sign of that snow creature yet?

“We continued on to a height of 10,000 feet above sea level.” And this movie is showing every Angstrom of it.

This ascent goes for rather a while, so while we’re waiting for something—anything—to happen, here is a trivia question for you: Who was the first person to put two feet on Mount Everest? Answer during the next boring bit, which shouldn’t be too long.

“At last, we reached the plateau region.” Whew! I’m about as worn out as the actual mountain climbers. I guess they reached a sufficient altitude to start recording actual dialogue.

“Subra, start pitching the tents.”

Mount Everest. Forbidding. Aloof. Terrifying. This year, this remote Himalayan mountain, this mystical temple, surrounded by the most difficult terrain in the world, repulsed yet another attempt to conquer it. This time, by the International Hairdresser’s Expedition.
...
The leader of the expedition was Colonel Sir John “Teasy-Weasy” Butler, veteran of K2, Annapurna, and Vidals. His plan was to ignore the usual route around the South Col and to make straight for the top.
“We established base salon here, and climbed quite steadily up to Mario’s here. From here using crampons and cutting ice steps as we went, we moved steadily up the Lhotse Face to the North Ridge, establishing camp three where we could get a hot meal, a manicure, and a shampoo and set.”
...
“Well, things have got so bad that we've been forced to use the last of the heavy oxygen equipment just to keep the dryers going.”

Ahem. Well, the Monty Python episode is far more entertaining than this movie. But, all right I’ll solider onward...

Parrish then tells us that everyone was eager for their first hot meal. You know, Yeti tastes just like chicken.

Parrish and Wells go out botanying. “Aside from a variety of common moss and crucifer flower, we found little of interest.” Tell me about it.

That evening, Parrish and Wells are in their tent. Wells is swigging from his flask, and offers Parrish a blast, who declines, intent on futzing with...something. Subra comes in and asks them if their room is okay. What? Is he the hotelier? Subra parks it next to Wells and eyes the flask. “Alcohol good?” he asks. He is literally asking for trouble. Wells hands it to him, and Subra takes a long, languorous belt. “Thank you, sir Doctor Wells.” “I’m not a doctor,” says Wells, and he now suddenly has a British accent. Parrish looks on disapprovingly, and scorns Subra, who leaves to go make dinner. Wells rhapsodizes about his booze. “Warms up the gizzards.” What? Who is this turkey? “It’ll pickle your gizzards,” replies Parrish. Mmm...pickled gizzards... But, uh oh, here it comes: “Wells, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hand any of that stuff out to any of the men. Don’t drink in their presence.” Jeez, they’re lugging all your crap, buddy. Lighten up. He really does think of them as human mules. Parrish then makes radio contact with Shekar. “Let me speak with Inspector Karma.” What? Inspector Karma’s gonna get you. Gonna look you right in the face. Better get yourself together darlin’. Join the human race.

Well, the John Lennon song is far more entertaining than this movie. But I should soldier on...

So, what’s it, like 45 minutes into this movie?...6:28?! Oy...

“That night,” Parrish tells us, “all seemed well in the town of Shekar.” At first. But then we see Talla coming out of her hut to play with her stick and twig collection, and a shadow looms up behind her. She turns and screams (well, whoever looped the sound screamed, not really matching her mouth), and we get our first glance at the snow creature. It’s lit from behind, so you never get a clear look at its features, which is probably wise. From what I can make out, it kind of looks like the love child of George Lucas and Rowlf the dog from The Muppet Show. In the long shots, the creature’s body is oddly lumpy and it appears as if it were wearing an entire jumpsuit made out of carpet remnants. Anyway, the creature carries off Talla. I bet Subra is going to need another drink. Leva excitedly informs the village, speaking Japanese, for reasons passing understanding. We then get a weird Carnival of Souls-like intercutting of the villagers, one of whom looks like Victor Buono from Beneath the Planet of the Apes.

Meanwhile, the villagers have made their way up to the expedition’s camp—well, that was quick. I guess it’s a much faster trip when you’re not carrying the equivalent of 20 U-Haul trailers. They inform Subra, who then bursts into Parrish and Wells’ tent. “Yeti! Yeti!” he yammers. He then calms down and introduces his brother. “He say Yeti steal my woman, Talla.” I think we’ve all been there. Pretty women walking with gorillas down my street....Is she really going out with him?

Subra continues. “We leave. Go after Yeti.” Parrish is hardly sympathetic. “Yeti, Yeti, what is it?” Subra explains. “Yeti is creature of snow. Snow giant!” That snow ghost. Parrish isn’t buying it. “Oh, you mean the Abominable Snowman, phantom of the Himalayas, marauder of women.” He then makes a laugh that sounds like the Penguin from Batman.

Both he and Wells proceed to heap scorn on Supra and the entire Sherpa race for believing in a “legend.” Funny, the Sherpas kind of live there, so you’d think they’d have a better idea of what else lives there than some dippy botanist and a drunk photographer, but I could be wrong. Parrish brings up the bottom line: “Thousands of dollars have been spent to finance this expedition and he wants to chase a legend.” You know, that one. Parrish is intractable, and insists that they are not going after the Yeti. Or Talla. Or both. Subra is pissed.

The next day, Parrish and Wells are out looking for...some kind of plant, while the Sherpas seem to be conspiring. Parrish’s voiceover tells us, “Because of my decision, I felt that Subra resented and disliked me.” Probably not much more than he already did.

That night, Subra slinks into Parrish’s tent and takes his gun, then puts it back.

The next day, Parrish and Wells are in their tent, and they hear Subra excitedly chattering outside. Parrish goes outside and sees the Sherpas packing up and leaving. He is not a happy camper. He calls Subra into his tent for a stern talking to. “I didn’t give the order to break camp.” Subra insists they are going to look for his wife. Parrish then grabs his gun. “I’ll shoot any man that doesn’t obey.” I’ve had bosses like that. Subra chuckles. He had unloaded the guns the previous night. “Subra, this is mutiny,” says Parrish. No, it’s really not. Breach of contract, at most. Did they have anything in writing? You know what they say about oral contracts; they’re not worth the paper they’re written on. They resign themselves to the Yeti hunt. “I think I need a drink,” says Wells. Well, that’s not saying much.

Subra is now giving the orders, and Parrish and Wells reluctantly follow along.

There is now more climbing.

So, back to the trivia question I posed earlier. Who was the first person to put two feet on Mount Everest? It’s actually a trick question. It wasn’t Sir Edmund Hillary, but—and I am not making this up—Andrew Waugh, the British Surveyor General of India, who was the first to accurately measure the height of Mount Everest. After several years of observations and data analysis, the number he came up with, in 1856, was 29,000 feet exactly. However, he felt that the public would think he was just giving them a rounded estimate and not the “real” number, so he arbitrarily added two feet to the calculation, making the height of Mount Everest a seemingly more plausible 29,002 feet. By the way, the Tibetan name for the mountain is Chomolungma, and it was Waugh who in 1865, officially named the mountain after his predecessor as Surveyor General, George Everest. Another little bit of trivia is that George Everest pronounced his name with a long e, “ee-verest.”

You know, researching the history of Mount Everest is actually more interesting than this movie. But, back to it...

That night, Parrish and Wells sneak into a tent looking for the radio. Wells asks where his Scotch is. I’m surprised he let it out of his sight at all. Parrish finds the radio and tries calling Shekar. But then Subra pokes a rifle into the tent and shoots the radio. I have the same reaction to top 40 stations. “Subra only want to kill radio machine,” he qualifies. I bet. Subra crawls into the tent and looks for the Scotch. Which is weird; usually you crawl out after you’ve already found it.

Parrish is determined to get the radio working again. “Wells’ case of Scotch gave me an idea.” Wait—Wells brought a case of Scotch on a climb up the Himalayas? I applaud the sentiment, don’t get me wrong, but lugging a whole case up a mountain? What else did he bring? Any gin and tonic? Did he bring a collection of barware up with him? Any accoutrements to mix a martini at 10,000 feet? Could I get a pink squirrel?

Anyway, what was Parrish’s idea? It’s a bit dark to see, but it looks like he is taking the Scotch out and putting the radio in the Scotch box. That’ll fool the Sherpas.

Later that night, Parrish and Wells hear a noise. “Is that my Scotch?” you can imagine Wells asking. Aside from a few random cutaways to the Yeti...somewhere...Parrish sees nothing, and we dissolve to the next day.

After a short conversation between Parrish and Subra about either the Scotch and/or the radio, one of the Sherpas spies Yeti tracks in the snow, although by the looks of it the Yeti had been wearing sandals. The tracks lead up into the mountains, and Subra orders everyone to go off after it. This takes rather a while.

Did you know that, counting Edmund Hillary’s initial 1953 ascent of Mount Everest, by the end of 2007 there have been 3,679 ascents by 2,436 people, though I would imagine not all at the same time. And there have been 210 deaths. Did you also know that it costs up to $25,000 to get a permit to climb Everest? In fact, I would imagine that it costs more to climb Everest than it cost to make The Snow Creature. I suppose I should get back to the movie. Anything happening yet?

Not really, no.

But soon it gets on to night. “Not even Subra could fight the darkness.” I bet he gave it a mighty attempt, though. And they camp again.

Oh, good, another scene of Parrish and Wells futzing with the radio. Wells is upset that his booze has been left behind. They hear a bloodcurdling shriek, and one of the Sherpas is found dead. There is an awkward cutaway to the Yeti walking into the light, then slowly backing away out of the light. Parrish is deep in thought; “The legend, the abduction of Subra’s wife, the footprints, the death of the native. All of these things began to fall into a mysterious pattern.” Um, maybe it could have something to so with, um, a Yeti! You know, like everyone has been saying. Parish isn’t exactly Sherlock Holmes, is he?

The next day, there is more climbing, and the snow creature watches them from a nearby rock. It kicks one rock and suddenly we cut to a random shot of an avalanche, and then to the climbers with avalanche footage superimposed over them. The Yeti kicks another rock, and someone starts raining foam rubber rocks down on the expedition. They mustn’t be very hard rocks because one beans Wells right on the head and it doesn’t even faze him. Unless he is so numb from all the booze.

The avalanche over, they continue onward. I swear they are just reusing the same footage over and over again.

They stop to rest, and the altitude starts getting to Wells. Either that or it’s the enforced sobriety. “We’ll probably need oxygen soon,” says Parrish. Or a whisky bar.

Oh, show me the way to the next whisky bar
Oh, don’t ask why
Oh, don’t ask why
For if we don’t find the next whisky bar
I tell you we must die

Sorry, Kurt Weill-Bertolt Brecht’s “Alabama Song”—from their opera The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny—or even The Doors’ famous cover version is more entertaining than this movie, But, back to it...

A storm on the way, they again camp.

Subra looks through his binoculars and sees a cave. They head down toward it. And the expedition continues on. I swear this is like watching a security camera of a pedestrian footbridge.

They finally reach the cave, and camp there, safe from the storm we are told is raging outside. Parrish tells Subra that, if he succeeds in capturing a Yeti, he could be famous. Subra, however, only wants to kill the Yeti. “How would you know it’s the one you’re after?” asks Parrish. “If there’s one Yeti, there must be a whole civilization.” Five minutes ago this guy didn’t believe there were any Yetis at all, and now he thinks there’s a whole civilization of them? “Subra kill all Yeti.”

Later, after the Sherpas are asleep, Parrish is still hot to get the radio. Man, he’s worse than Wells and his booze.

The next day...there is more walking until Subra finds the shoelace he had given Talla, and starts yowling her name. They continue onward.
Parrish’s voiceover tells us, “I realized the snow creature was not just a legend. I consoled myself with the thought that finding one would more than compensate for my failure as a botanist.” Oh, sure I really wanted to bring back some moss or a rare blade of grass, but all I came back with was this legendary apeman. That would be a colossal disappointment.

Subra (he's Subra Dubra) is the boss now, and his intricate strategy involves howling “Talla!” while meandering aimlessly through a cave. They come across the bones of a mountain goat. “This place gives me the creeps,” says Wells. I would expect by this time that he’d be adding, “Are there really all these snakes and spiders all over me?”

There is more wandering through the cave until finally the come across a Yeti standing over what may be Talla, although it’s hard to make out much of anything. Subra continues yowling “Talla” and takes aim with his gun. Parrish stops him, and the Yeti takes that opportunity to pull a single rock out of the wall which for some reason causes a cave in on top of the Yeti and knocks it unconscious. That was a cunning plan. Subra runs in yelling “Kill it!” Parrish looks at the body on the ground, and remarks that it has only been knocked out. “I’ll get my hypo to keep him quiet.” Hypo? Why is a botanist carrying a hypo and, presumably, a tranquilizer? Was he expecting to run across some pretty fierce plants? “Get a tarpaulin. We’ll carry him in that.” As they carry the Yeti out, Parrish remarks that the female and child of the Yeti were killed in the cave in. Oh, is that what those figures were? I thought it was Talla. Where is Talla, then? Somehow Parrish got a gun because he orders Subra and Leva at gunpoint to carry the Yeti back out of the cave.

Parrish then obsesses over the radio again, but apparently can’t raise the Shekar police. And how we watch them climb down the mountain. Hunker down, this’ll take a while.

That night, we pan over a row of sleeping Sherpas, as Parrish watches them at gunpoint, “to make sure nothing goes wrong.” Parrish has now become obsessed with getting the Yeti back alive. And we watch them sleep some more. And some more. And...some more. And......some more. And...All right! They’re sleeping! We get it!

As they sleep, a hairy paw reaches out from under the tarpaulin and starts massaging the head of one of the Sherpas. It looks rather soothing, actually, but the guy screams, and Parrish leaps to his feet, pummeling the creature with the but of the rifle. Poor thing.

Cut to the next day, and...more...walking... “We were able to keep the creature in a semi-conscious state, coming to only long enough to take food.” I’ve had days like that.

Seven days later, they reach Shekar, and Parrish decides to “herd the natives straight to the police.” At the police station, Parrish has the police chief place a call to Mr. Cory, Jr., presumably the one financing his expedition. Boy, I bet he’s gonna be mad that Parrish only brought back a half-man/half-ape that could be the missing link, and not a bunch of shrubs. Hopefully, he’ll break it to him gently. The police chief keeps saying “Hai,” which is Japanese for “yes.” Why do all the Nepalis seem to be Japanese? He tells Parish, “Your foundation was granted permission to explore the Himalayas. Your discovery is of a very unusual nature.” Aren’t all discoveries? I mean, isn’t that the point of discoveries, to find unusual things? There’s no point in discovering things that are already known. Anyway, please go on: “It belongs to you, and you are free to do with it as you wish.” Well, that was easy. “The Inspector”— hat must be Inspector Karma—“kept repeating how friendly his country was and how it welcomed scientists, explorers, and so on.” Yep, we all shine on. Karma adds that the natives (why is he referring to his own people as “natives?”) will be held in custody for taking the law into their own hands. Don’t take the law into your own hands, you take ‘em to court. Yes, if Doug Llewellyn ran a country.

Parrish asks, “Can I keep the creature here?” “Of course.” Man, Inspector Karma is certainly obliging. “It’ll need to be fed. And can you give him an injection every six hours,” say Parrish. “Yes, we shall do that.” This guy is way too agreeable. “Will you wash my car? Do my laundry? Chew my food for me? Oh, and can I borrow your wife for the evening?” “Of course!”

Subra then comes in and says that he doesn’t know that the Yeti they captured was the one that kidnapped his woman. Parrish has a change of heart and decides not to press charges against the natives. Subra is ecstatic.

Then the phone rings. Inspector Karma answers it. “Hi...hi....hi...hi” Hello, already! Man, this guy just can’t get a phone conversation going. Oh, “Hai...hai...hai...” I get it. But again, why Japanese? The call is for Parrish. We hear snippets of his conversation. “Please send a refrigeration unit as soon as possible.” It’s not a very good Bob Newhart routine. “I’ll be leaving for Bombay to take care of all the arrangements You can reach me in care of the TWA office.” Oh, I’ll bet they’ll love that. Good thing it’s not the U.S. Airways office; he’d be completely screwed.

He adds, “Would you please call my wife and tell her I’ll be home soon?” He can’t call his own wife? I’m surprised he didn’t ask Inspector Karma to do it. “Oh, and babysit my kids for a couple of week. And walk the dog. And mow the lawn. The gutters will need to be cleaned out.” “Of course!”
He hangs, up, and Wells is not happy about the arrangement. “I can get £2,000–3,000 for that photograph I took.” (He took a photograph?) “And we should split that money between us. As far as the creature is concerned, we should sell him—“ What put it on eBay? Says Parrish, “As for the photograph, do what you want with it. As for the creature, it’s going to the Cory Foundation where he belongs.” No, it belongs back up in the mountains where you captured it. Wells chides him for not having any business sense. Then Inspector Karma comes in and asks if his telephone call came out okay. What? Someone seems to have confused “police inspector” with “hotel concierge.” He has more requests for Inspector Karma: make sure no one comes near the creature, “including Mr. Wells,” he adds, poking Wells in the chest. Again with the finger.

After a couple of attempts to get an on-screen graphic going, we find out we are now in Bombay. At what I presume is the TWA office (the abundance of model planes is a bit of a giveaway) the manager gives Parrish the details of the refrigeration unit that is arriving, and that he has taken care of all the documents he needs. “We’ll take are of all other formalities.” Wow, everyone certainly does oblige this guy. “I’ve also dry-cleaned your other suit, had your linens in the hotel changed, and will give you a pedicure, if you take off your shoes.” After Parrish leaves, the TWA office manager strips naked, stands before the mirror, and pretends that he was conceived in Parrish’s image. I had no idea that botanists were treated like royalty in India. Must be all the vegetarians.

Back in Shekar, we see the creature pacing back and forth inside what looks like the sound proof booth they used to use on those old quiz shows like Twenty One. Are they sure it’s not Charles Van Doren in there? Inspector Karma is again being obliging, pointing out that injections worked great. He marvels at the technology of the refrigeration device. “You Americans. Manufacturing a contraption like this on a phone call!” Oh, brother. Don’t show this guy CafePress; he’ll completely lose it. “I can get a throw pillow with a picture of a schnauzer on it! Wow!!!!”

And they’re off into the wild blue yonder. Well, gray, anyway. And the plane flies over New York City, the Grand Canyon, and finally lands in L.A. Again, I’m not Magellan or anything, but wouldn’t it be shorter to travel east across the Pacific?

Parrish is met at the airport by his wife and Mr. Cory. “Instead of flowers, I brought you a Yeti,” he says. I wonder if he’ll have a vase big enough. Wait...he was talking to Cory. Why would he have brought flowers to Mr. Cory? So where is the Yeti? “He should be here. I sent him ahead on a cargo plane.” He didn’t have the Yeti fly coach? Heck, that’s usually what I end up sitting next to. There is then a booming page for Parrish coming from what looks like a radar tower. “Please come to the customs warehouse.”

They walk across the tarmac, where the creature is still pacing inside the soundproof booth. “Well, darling, there it is,” says Parrish, although it’s not clear if he’s talking to his wife or to Cory.

And here the movie takes a brief detour into a satire of bureaucracy.

A customs agent looks at a piece of paper. “I see you have classified your import as a ‘snow creature,’” he says. “It’s necessary that we clarify its immigration status....The question is, is it a beast or a man?” Or perhaps a beast of a man. “Well, he’s not human, I can tell you that,” says Parrish. The customs agent then takes out a newspaper and points out an article written by Wells titled “Snow Man Discovered.” Therefore, customs insists it is human. Is a newspaper headline a binding, legal document? So what did customs do? They called an eminent anthropologist to come an verify that the creature is not human. (Did Lou Dobbs write the screenplay for this?) However, the anthropologist can’t be there until seven that night. You know how busy anthropologists are. I usually have to book them months in advance. So the creature will have to stay in the warehouse. “We’ve studied the instructions on he refrigerator.” What about the grocery list and “Domestic Goddess” magnet? Parrish is oddly resigned to the whole thing. He needs Inspector Karma and the TWA guy from Bombay; they’d have given him anything he wanted.

That night Parrish arrives at the Immigration Department office with the immigration guy and Dr. Dupont, the anthropologist. “What an unusual find for a botanist to make!” exults the anthropologist. Actually, if the creature had been James Arness in The Thing it wouldn’t be that unusual. While they wait for Cory, they start arguing over whether it is human or not. “I have to determine if its brain is a calculating brain.” Is that how one determines if something is human? So then is the solar-powered calculator I got at a trade show human? What about my computer—the CPU performs far more calculations than I do. Is it more human than I am? (Don’t answer that.) Dr. Dupont says that the legends of the Yetis always imbued the creatures with human traits. Therefore.... Is a weird Sherpa legend also a binding legal document?

Meanwhile, down in the warehouse, the creature is getting antsy and starts banging against the sides of the refrigerator. A security guard (or the airline’s navigator, it’s hard to tell by the uniform) watches in horror as the refrigerator topples over and the creature breaks out. The creature karate chops him to the ground. Great, so they’ve captured Hong Kong Phooey. The guard is dazed but struggles to his feet and calls the immigration guy. Parrish and Dupont join in a chorus of “what!”s as the immigration guy says “The creature has escaped.” They run down to the warehouse. So, I guess its immigration status is a bit of a moot point now.

They are interrogating the guard/navigator. “He got out and I started to run for my life.” No, you didn’t. You just stood there gawking as it came at you and karate chopped you. Lieutenant Dunbar of the police arrives on the scene and asks “What’s this all about?”

Before we can find out, we cut to the creature walking through a parking garage and as it passes out of the frame, we zoom into a painted arrow on the pavement as we hear a woman scream. The director is getting vaguely arty all of a sudden.

A car comes out and the driver sees a woman lying in the road; he gets out, makes sure to move the woman’s spine around a lot, and gives her up for dead it seems. Meanwhile, the creature watches on, then backs away out of the light. The director really likes that shot because he uses it ad nauseam.

Dunbar gets a call over his radio that the body of a girl has been found. He and Parrish head over to investigate, obviously just assuming that the creature was involved, since L.A.—especially the area around the airport—is such a peaceful city with a 0% homicide rate.

Two uniformed officers patrol the area, surreptitiously watched by the creature.

As Dunbar checks in...somewhere...we learn that his wife is expecting a baby. Would she settle for a Yeti? In Dunbar’s office, he consults a wall map, puts a pin in the location of the warehouse, and another in the location where the woman was found. The two locations are about three miles apart. Dunbar marvels that no one saw the creature (well maybe they did, they just didn’t report it), and Parrish responds that “It was late. There was no one on the street.” Ba-bing. That apparently had not occurred to Dunbar. A fine investigator he is, one-upped by a botanist. “He’s got to be stopped,” says Dunbar. “Stopped, Lieutenant, but not killed,” says Parrish. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him? His mentality, his habits?” asks Dunbar. It’s a big ape-like creature captured in the Himalayas. What more do you need to know? “Well,” says Parish, “he’s acclimated to a high altitude and low temperature.” That is a stunning insight.

Dunbar then picks up the phone. “Send this bulletin to all radio stations and newspapers. Tell everyone to stay off the streets and remain calm. That goes for everybody.” Can you imagine just idly listening to the radio and hearing someone come on, apropos of nothing, and tell you to “remain calm”? Wouldn’t you start panicking?. As for the newspapers, I would think they’d find the creature by the time the next newspaper edition came out.

Says Dunbar, “There’s nothing we can do except wait for him to turn up again.” That’s not a very proactive police department they’ve got. I hope they don’t try to catch serial killers that way. Surely they can send out squad cars looking for a large ape creature. How many can there be wandering the streets of L.A.? (Okay, check that, never mind...)

Soon, the radio is broadcasting an important public service announcement from the police department: “A dangerous killer beast is at large.” Well, that should help prevent any panic!

There is now a very strange montage as random shots of cars screeching around corners are superimposed over a balding police sergeant reading a letter. And the creature walks into the light again.

That over, we hear a woman scream. Ah, but that tricky old director was just keeping us on our toes; a feuding couple emerges from a set of glass doors. The woman is trying to explain..something. The man says, “I’m sick of listening to your words.” A very odd line. What about her numbers? Punctuation marks? He sends her away, “If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.” Zing. And the creature walks into the light...and backs out of it. Again. It is eyeing the woman. And then it walks into the light again. Fade to black, and I think the editor was trying to match the woman’s scream with a police siren, but it didn’t quite work. The woman runs past the same arrow painted on the pavement as before and into an all-night pharmacy. Yep, been there. “I really need some Pepto-Bismol!” Actually, she is reporting the creature, and the pharmacist calls Dunbar, who adds another pin to the map. He has three points, and thinks the creature must be within the triangle formed by those three points. Which isn’t really true; it could walk in any direction it chooses.

So Dunbar orders all units to converge on “Area 11.” He then calls for more coffee. This guy could also use a doughnut or two; he is rail thin. He is one frail-looking police lieutenant.

We then get a montage of all units converging on Area 11.

Meanwhile, at a meat-packing plant, the creature wanders in and lovingly caresses a side of beef. This understandably freaks out two workers, but, I bet they do the same thing when no one’s looking; I know I would. They run screaming for the police, even though they are still inside the meat locker. Are the police likely to hear them? Do they often have the police hiding behind cuts of beef?

It is 2:20 a.m., according to an extreme close up of someone’s watch. Dunbar is pacing back and forth. “Now I’ve got two reasons to pace,” he says. Oh, right, his wife is giving birth to a Yeti. No, wait, that can’t be right. Anyway, the phone rings. Another sighting. Dunbar is flummoxed. “This whole thing is cock-eyed!” He goes to the map. “These are the three areas. Logically, the boy should be in here.” The boy? “He was just reported at a meat-packing house all the way over here.” You know, just because the three prior sightings of the creature form a triangle (which, by definition, just about any three sightings would) does not mean that the creature is confined to the area defined by that triangle. It is quite capable of moving in whatever direction it likes. At any rate, it’s a distance of seven miles. Wow, he does get around. “And no one’s seen him?” asks Parrish. Well, as you pointed out before, it is 2:30 in the morning.

“There are only two ways this thing can get around,” says Dunbar. This should be good. “Walking and flying.” Yes, that’s right it’s flying. Is there another officer on duty we can out in charge of this investigation? Dunbar says, “Any normal person would hide out at a hotel, or any place.” Uh, buddy: it’s a Yeti!!!! “This is a white elephant. Any two-year-old child could spot him.” Now if only there were a bunch of two-year-old children wandering the streets of Los Angles at 2:30 in the morning, you’d have him. “How does he travel seven miles without being seen?” Maybe the same way I can sit in a restaurant for 20 minutes without being seen; maybe the only ones on the street at that hour are bad waiters.

Then Parrish looks out the window and sees a street sweeper sweeping some trash into a storm drain. Aha! “Some of those openings are big enough for two men to crawl into.” I really don’t want to know how he knows that. “I think you’ve got something, Doctor,” says Dunbar. I bet he does. Dunbar picks up the phone and asks to talk to the city engineer.

At the Department of Public Works, the engineer is joined by Parrish and Dunbar. The engineer—Edwards—points out that the sewers are cooler than the external temperature. Says Parrish, “I told you the creature had intuitive powers. He could have sensed the cooler temperature.” As I write this, it is 7°F outside. Trust me, you don’t need to be intuitive to sense cold. Dunbar asks if they have any maps of the sewer system; Edwards rags on him by saying “There are 4800 miles of storm drains under this city. We got lots of charts.” Could you be less helpful, please? He goes and gets a relevant chart—Dunbar finds the creature’s route.

As Parrish and Dunbar leave, Edwards yawns and consults his watch. It is 3:42 a.m. However, the clock on the wall behind him says it is 5:50. Does anybody really know what time it is?

Dunbar instructs another officer, Richards—who looks like Fredo Corleone—to deploy all the men and get rubber boots, lamps, and other accoutrements. He also asks to take a big net along. And off they go, down into the sewers, euphemistically referred to as “storm drains.” They see a big white wall, and then meander through the tunnel. Wow, this is just like the end of The Third Man, when they chase Orson Welles through...no, on second thought, it so isn’t. They call to another detachment; no one has seen anything yet. In an unrelated shot, the creature...walks into the light. Again. More meandering. More creature walking into the light.

Well, a movie that began by endlessly reusing the same scenes of Sherpas hiking up the Himalayas now ends by endlessly reusing the same scenes of policemen meandering through sewers. Which is about where one would expect this movie to end.

They stop in front of a rounded tunnel. Says Dunbar, “I never noticed this tunnel before.” How familiar is he with the sewers? Does he get down there very often? The tunnel splits, and Dunbar has two officers go in one direction, and he and Parrish go in another, Yep, just like that Robert Frost poem, “The Sewer Not Taken”:

Two tunnels diverged in a sewer, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Not to mention the other Frost poem, “Stopping by Storm Drains on a Snow Creature Evening.”

Anyway, reading Robert Frost is more entertaining than this movie...wait, actually, it really isn’t. Okay, back to it...

They finally come across the creature, and it immediately mauls a cop. Parrish and Dunbar consult their map, and instruct the men up at street level to put the net over the nearest entrance to them. And the creature walks into the light again. Same shot. And the creature backs out of the light. Again. And the creature walks into the light, and back out of the light. Would you stop that! And the creature walks into the light..and right—dah!—into the net. Well, that was awkwardly cut together. Everyone tries to wrestle the creature to the ground. It grabs Parrish and starts strangling him. Yes! Go, Yeti! Dunbar shoots the creature, and down it goes. Parrish is only slightly chagrined.

The adventure over, Dunbar withdraws to the nearest police car and checks in with headquarters. He is told, “Very urgent call. Proceed immediately to Quentin and Elm. Urgent....There’s a creature waiting for you. Eight pounds, three ounces. A boy, lieutenant. Mother and son are doing fine.” Waka waka.
Dunbar offers to give Parrish a ride home. “Doc, what’s your first name?” “Frank.” “Maybe I’ll name my kid Frank.” Sure, why not? One’s son should always remind one of chasing an ape creature through sewers. “Frank Dunbar, sounds great.” “Thanks,” says Parrish. “I don’t know. I’m not too sure I like it,” says Dunbar. You brought it up!

And they drive off into the night.

The end.

And now it's time for...

Great Moments in Cryptozoology

Frank Parrish wasn’t the only botanist who had encounters with legendary and non-existent creatures. History books (cryptohistory books, I should say) are chock full of tens of stories about botanists’ encounters with the preternatural.

Clyde Melman was in Scotland studying the flora indigenous to Scotch distilleries when he lost his balance, rolled down a hill, and saw, he claimed, Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster. Melman whipped out his camera phone and immediately shot the weird tableau. Unfortunately, when he had brought the photo in to be developed (he wasn’t too clear on the principle; it was a new cellphone) all that was in the picture was Angus McTavish, a local bagpipes salesman. Melman later blamed “Photoshop,” for reasons passing understanding.

Edna Pongman, an exobiologist working for NASA and specializing in extraterrestrial flora (her phone doesn’t ring a lot), had an odd encounter: she saw the face on Mars suddenly start to move; it grimaced, and began spitting fire. It then began laughing, deep and reverberant. What was truly remarkable about this vision was that Pongman had had it while cleaning out her attic, and in fact had been looking at a stuffed moosehead at the time. It later was revealed that a mycologist friend of hers had given her a baggie filled with mysterious mushrooms, which Pongman says she had added to a beef casserole she had made for lunch. She became a little suspicious when, after her face on Mars encounter, she heard the coffee maker talking about her and the toaster singing show tunes.

Other run-ins with the Yeti abound, as well. One involves botanist Adrian Bagelman, who, like Frank Parrish, was investigating Himalayan plant life. His expedition also included, for the amusement of the Sherpas, a magician. One day, they came across a female Yeti frozen in the snow. Bagelman was about to presume it dead when a gust of wind blew the magician’s magic hat out of his tent and right into the head of the frozen Yeti, who suddenly became animated and shouted “Happy birthday!” The magician was aggrieved that he couldn’t get his hat back, but at least the Sherpas continued to be entertained. This story also gave rise to the popular children’s song:

Betty the Yeti
Was a jolly happy mensch
With giant feet and a coat of hair
And a taste for human flesh...

Admittedly, the animated version died a death.

Posted 01/04/09

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