Editorials
‘Primeval’ – Revisiting a Flawed But Unique Killer Croc Movie
While “based on a true story” is typically a ploy to lure in audiences, the basis of the 2007 movie Primeval does, in fact, exist. Or at least he did, at one point. The whereabouts of what many deem the “world’s most prolific killer” — a decades-old Nile crocodile named Gustave who allegedly claimed somewhere between 200 and 300 human lives — are murky nowadays. Some say Burundi’s most infamous reptile is long gone, and others demand proof of his passing. Regardless, Gustave’s notoriety lives on in this panned Hollywood creature-feature with a severe identity crisis.
Back then, it was understandable to have a cursory look at the original ad campaign for Primeval and not realize the movie is about a crocodile. An intentionally vague trailer led to complaints of deception from viewers; they were expecting a movie about a human serial killer. Imagine their surprise once they watched Primeval, which, for obvious reasons, was not screened for critics before its release. Bumping up the premiere by several months — to January, no less — also did not bode well. As anticipated, Michael Katleman’s directorial feature debut was chewed up and spat out by critics.
In cinema, 2007 was the year of the crocodile. Along with Rogue, Greg McLean’s much anticipated follow-up to Wolf Creek, was another Australian ripped-from-the-headlines saltie thriller called Black Water. However, both movies did not see a commercial release until after Primeval was rushed out by Buena Vista. Behind-the-scenes drama sank Rogue’s chance of a theatrical premiere in the United States, whereas Black Water slipped under the radar despite positive reviews. Needless to say, Primeval was the only one of this toothy trio to grace the American big screen. Critics did not miss an opportunity to note the small surge of croc horror that year, and a few did their damndest to steer potential viewers away from Primeval and toward Rogue (even with McLean’s sophomore pic being stuck in distribution hell). Nevertheless, the dissuasion was undue. As confused and uneven as Primeval turned out to be, the movie’s disreputation is not completely warranted.

Image: Orlando Jones and Brooke Langton’s characters run from danger in Primeval.
The criticism of Primeval taking itself too seriously seems almost strange to hear these days. By and large, though, people still expect “nature’s revenge” horror to be silly and campy. The subgenre has its roots to consider, yet after so much frivolity from the Syfy side as well as the lingering effects of the postmodern horror wave, a straight approach for this kind of movie was good in theory. The execution, on the other hand, made Primeval not only difficult to digest but also tonally awkward.
The attempt to make Primeval an issue-film is far from perfect. Maybe even reckless. Worst of all, John Brancato and Michael Ferris’ bizarre and totally unsubtle script does not accomplish much of anything in the end apart from some inevitable white knighting. The political framing device does, at the very least, fatten up an otherwise anemic story. The basic concept of a TV network staging the capture of the legendary Gustave could have gone either way. After all, safe and undemanding is the norm for monster movies. It is the unconventional, not to mention questionable pairing of a maneater’s intrinsic horrors with the atrocities of a civil war that ultimately muddies the water. This is not the sort of exploitation that viewers signed up for.
As self-important as Primeval comes across, it does manage to be self-aware from time to time. The frequent scene-stealer and most likable character, a comical American cameraman played to the max by Orlando Jones, has a real way with words. Following the Gustave-related death of a British forensic anthropologist in Burundi, Jones’ character Steven sums up the movie’s inciting incident best: “You know what, this crocodile’s like O.J. Simpson; he messed up when he killed that white woman.” Vulgar, yes, but not too off the mark in this case. And when it comes to the indifference toward urgent domestic affairs in Africa, Primeval points a finger at the West. Funnily enough, the script is guilty of its own accusation. The constant prioritization of animals over human lives also comes up as the movie’s own resident croc hunter (Gideon Emery) states there are “more than enough human beings on this planet” and Gustave is of “greater value.” Mind you, he has the audacity to say this as genocide continues in Burundi.

Image: Gustave the killer Nile Crocodile appears in Primeval’s finale.
Primeval could have very well been pitched as Lake Placid meets Blood Diamond. Although, this cocktail of bestial horror and political thriller is often more sobering than inebriating, especially when the American characters get mixed up with the Burundi warlord who goes by the nickname of Little Gustave (Dumisani Mbebe). Other movies would refrain from being so on the nose about their message, but Primeval lacks nuance. The metaphor here does not go unnoticed or unsaid as Dominic Purcell spoon-feeds it to both his co-star, Brooke Langton, and the audience. Upon learning Little Gustave’s victims wind up as meals for Big Gustave, Purcell’s character says with a straight face: “We make, create, our own monsters.”
Clumsy and unrefined as it may be as a political piece, Primeval moderately succeeds as a creature-feature. The movie’s insatiable centerpiece always leaves the audience wanting more during his meager appearances. Those run-ins with Gustave include implausible but exhilarating set-pieces that embody 2000s Hollywood excess. Due to an extensive and flagrant use of CGI — the movie ended up abandoning a practical animatronic during filming — Gustave resembles and acts like a mythical dragon more than anything tangible and existing in nature. The guttural roar in place of an authentic croc hiss evokes memories of the growling shark in Jaws: The Revenge, and Gustave’s ability to gallop across grasslands and crawl up and down the sides of a cage defies both credibility and physics. Still and all, more go-for-broke stunts and less bleak warfare for the sake of genre entertainment would have immensely benefited Primeval. When the movie leans into its cold-blooded antagonist’s predation, it is undoubtedly more satisfying.
Primeval remains polarizing all these years later. Admittedly, the opportunistic and misguided political element preoccupies way too much of the story, but several bright spots — namely Gustave’s flashy feats, Orlando Jones’ amusing if not indelicate turn, and the surplus of South African vistas — help raise the value of this widely panned monster romp. It can be argued that Primeval does too much for a movie of this caliber; it feels stuck between two genres. As a counterpoint, its flawed and messy ambition is still preferable to all the more routine crocsploitation movies currently swimming in existence.

Image: Brooke Langton, Dominic Purcell and Gideon Emery in Primeval.
Editorials
Tales from ‘Tales from the Crypt’: Exhuming Season Six’s “Only Skin Deep” Episode
The penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) aired its first three episodes on October 31, so it’s understandable that at least one of those three stories is set on Halloween.
Sandwiched between “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” (Russell Mulcahy, Ron Finley) and “Whirlpool” (Mick Garris, A. L. Katz & Gilbert Adler) is the most severe episode of the bunch. Maybe the entire series? William Malone and Dick Beebe’s “Only Skin Deep” traded the show’s typical sense of fun for startling amounts of bleakness and kink.
“Only Skin Deep” is, apart from the Crypt Keeper’s intro and outro, noticeably unfunny. There are no considerable attempts at making the viewer laugh. Come to think of it, if those bookends had been replaced, and there was more of a sci-fi element in the story, HBO could have easily squeezed this tale into that successor anthology, Perversions of Science (1997). In Crypt, though, “Only Skin Deep” is much too grim for an audience that had become accustomed to campiness and levity.
What makes “Only Skin Deep” feel dark, among other things, is its protagonist. Showing up to a Halloween party where he’s not welcome, and where his former girlfriend (Diane DiLasco) is attending, Carl Schlag (Peter Onorati) first comes across as your standard bitter ex. You soon realize it’s much worse than that, once Carl threatens Linda (“You know, silly me, thinking I gave you what you deserved. If I’d have done that, I’d have killed you”). Now, I haven’t forgotten that Tales from the Crypt was teeming with vile men who did women harm. Yet Carl’s brand of misogynistic menace hits differently—it borders on being too realistic for this kind of series.

Mike Vosburg’s EC-style comic cover for “Only Skin Deep”, as seen in the Tales from the Crypt episode.
Despite donning a party mask for much of the episode, Carl can’t ever mask his true nature. The invitation did say “come as you are”, after all. That inability to change and be better, however, is why Carl ends up in such a karmic predicament. His outburst of anger at the party attracts the attention of one loner partygoer named Molly (Sherrie Rose, who was also in Season Four’s “On a Deadman’s Chest”). Her bone-white, featureless “mask” and body-bag costume don’t initially register as too strange, especially on a night like this. But at a party chock-full of colorful, cartoonish, and lighthearted ensembles, it does look out of place.
Darkness attracts darkness as Carl ditches the party and accompanies the mysterious Molly to her place. Which, by the way, should have been an immediate red flag. But perhaps she’s so hot, he doesn’t seem to mind the serial killer aesthetic. Resembling a warehouse that has been converted into living spaces, but never then decorated to remove the cold, industrial look, Molly’s home (or lair) is as gloomy as this whole episode feels. It’s like the set of a grungy music video, albeit a tad cleaner. The environments in a typical Crypt episode tend to be small, overfilled, and broken-in. Warm, regardless of any weird goings-on. All that empty space in Molly’s hovel, on the other hand, elicits a creepy feeling that Carl was unwise to ignore.
Tales from the Crypt featured more sex than it didn’t, but hands down, “Only Skin Deep” boasts the steamiest scene in the show’s history. Pushing it over the line, in addition to Onorati showing bare buns and the camera never turning down one of his pelvic thrusts, is the twisted dirty talk. Carl stays in the moment, whereas Molly unleashes charged lines like “the hurt, the anger, give it to me” and “take it out on my flesh like you want to”. It’s all quite kinky, as well as tied into the story’s theme of pain.
How else “Only Skin Deep” differs from other episodes is its twists. Or rather, its lack thereof. Nothing comes as a great surprise here, particularly because the deuteragonist’s ulterior motives are so obvious. By no means is Molly a wolf in sheep’s clothing; her face is a fright mask, she practically reeks of death, and she lives in what can best be described as a serial killer’s hideout. That last-act revelation of Molly’s mask really being her face is also nothing shocking. Cleverness is certainly not this episode’s strength.

A page from “…Only Skin Deep!”, as seen in EC Comics’ Tales from the Crypt.
While “Only Skin Deep” isn’t the most universally loved episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’s an interesting preview of William Malone’s future as a director. Most notably, he went on to helm House on Haunted Hill (1999) and FeardotCom (2002), the former of which was co-written by Dick Beebe, this episode’s writer. Dark Castle Entertainment, that genre house founded by Crypt producers Joel Silver, Robert Zemeckis, and Gilbert Adler, was instrumental in bringing out Malone’s gruesome, over-the-top vision in House on Haunted Hill. However, FeardotCom and Malone’s Masters of Horror episode, “Fair-Haired Child”, are the most stylistically compatible with “Only Skin Deep”.
As one might guess, this episode is nothing like its source material. The “…Only Skin Deep!” found in the pages of EC Comics is set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and save for its last couple of pages, is pretty sweet in nature. There, a man named Herbert is enamored with a woman he met five years prior to the present-day story. Every year, he has come down to Mardi Gras to see Suzanne, who’s always dressed as a hag-faced witch. Well, this time, Herbert plans on popping the question and marrying someone who is, for the most part, a total stranger. Suzanne accepts his proposal, but with one condition: they stay in costume until they’re officially hitched. You can probably see where this is going…
Once they are married, Suzanne remains incognito, even when she and Herbert have consummated their vows. A semi-predictive nightmare then rattles Herbert; he dreamt that Suzanne’s real face was as wizened as her mask. Finally, in his haste to find out the truth, Herbert winds up killing his new wife. Faceless and well on her way to bleeding out, the dying Suzanne manages to say she never wore a mask.
For more traditional EC-style ghastliness, your best bet is reading the comic. It’s wickedly sad. For something less conventional, as far as Tales from the Crypt goes, the role-reversing adaptation is worth watching. It’s not the best this show had to offer, although Malone’s visual style, plus the sexual abandon, does set the episode apart. If nothing else, “Only Skin Deep” leaves an impression that, even years later, shows no signs of fading.
Season Six of Tales from the Crypt can be streamed on Shudder, starting on June 5.
Tales from Tales from the Crypt celebrates the show’s Shudder premiere by singling out one episode from each season. So don’t even think about changing that dial, boys and ghouls. More spot-“frights” are to come.

Carl discovers Molly’s collection of human ‘masks’ in the Tales from the Crypt episode, “Only Skin Deep”.
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