When the wrecked car is found, covered in blood, there is no other trace of the bodies. The registration leads the state police to nearby Ludlow where they make a startling discovery -- the entire town has been leveled, but once again, there are no bodies. This is a little too weird for the local authorities, so the National Guard is brought in. They set up camp in the neighboring town of Paxton, and cordon off what's left of Ludlow. Enter intrepid reporter, Audrey Aimes (Peggy Castle). On her way to cover another story, she becomes intrigued when she can’t get any answers as to what’s beyond the military roadblock. She heads into Paxton but is stonewalled again by Col. Sturgeon (Thomas Henry Browne -- who is not Morris Ankrum) who will neither confirm or deny anything. 

Playing on a hunch, she calls her editor to see if there are any atomic installations in the area. (Remember, this is the 50's and radiation took the blame for everything.) The only thing even remotely close is a Department of Agriculture research institute. When visiting the lab, Aimes meets the square-jawed Dr. Ed Wainwright (I’m Peter Graves) and his partner, Dr. Frank Johnson (Than Wyenn), who has been rendered deaf and mute by an accidental dose of radiation. They don't get many tourists, but explain that their experiments involve the use of radiation to speed up the photosynthesis process, resulting in giant mutations. (Tomatoes the size of basketballs etc.) Aimes  is impressed but is concerned about any possible side-effects. Wainwright assures her that they've had no problems, except for some bugs, especially the locusts, who kept eating their experiments. Oh, and then there was that little problem with the storage bins for the mutant grain. They collapsed and all their irradiated contents disappeared under mysterious circumstances (but I'm sure it's nothing.)

Aimes returns to Paxton, and promising to hold her story until the mystery is solved, she is finally allowed to go into Ludlow. The town is beyond devastated, it's been completely flattened. Putting two and two together (she’s a crack reporter remember), Aimes decides to visit the destroyed bins. (Dang she’s good.) Going back to the institute for directions, the doctors decide to tag along. The storage bins are in worse shape than Ludlow, and while Wainwright and Aimes get to know one another, poor Dr. Frank discovers what’s causing all the trouble -- and promptly gets eaten by it at the same time! Seems the locusts that ate the irradiated grain have mutated to humongous proportions as well. As they swarm toward Wainwright and Aimes, they barely escape and manage to reach Sturgeon, who is highly skeptical of their report of giant bugs. They do manage to convince him to at least investigate, and he sends Captain Barton (James Seay -- who is still not Morris Ankrum) and a squad of soldiers to look into it. 

Wainwright goes with them, and when they reach the site, all seems quiet. Too quiet. But not for long, as the locust start screeching at deafening levels and attack. The troopers, skeptical at first, now find themselves in a nasty firefight. Quickly overwhelmed, they beat a hasty retreat for reinforcements.

While Sturgeon prepares for the Battle of Paxton, Wainwright warns that there are too many giant locusts and they won’t stand a chance unless the regular army is called in. (He can tell by the levels of chirping that the swarm is pretty big.) So we get the obligatory trip to Washington D.C. where he pleads his case in front of a committee run by General Hanson (Morris Ankrum -- FINALLY. He’ll fix this.) But once again, the big brass doesn’t understand the magnitude of the threat until they receive word that Paxton has been overrun by the locust swarm. Hanson takes command (thank god), and appoints Wainwright as his special advisor on giant mutant bugs.

The army is mobilized but they have little effect in slowing the swarm down. And insecticides and smoke don’t do any better, as the horde closes in on Chicago. After a rousing battle sequence between the GI’s and the bugs, the locusts pour into the Windy City suburbs. With no other alternative, Hanson authorizes the use of an A-bomb to neutralize the threat. Wainwright thinks that action is a little drastic, and hits upon the idea (with a little help from Aimes) to reproduce the bug’s mating call and lure them all into Lake Michigan to drown them. All he needs is an oscillator, some copper wire, a loud speaker -- and one live giant grasshopper. Hanson provides him everything he needs -- including a captured bug, but won’t postpone the bomb drop, leaving them only a few precious hours to try and mimic the mating call.

While Wainwright tinkers with the oscillator, Barton breaks another B-movie cardinal sin by waxing nostalgic about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And we really know he’s bug chow when he mentions his wife and kids, for no real reason, and how he can’t wait to get back to them. So it is no surprise then when Wainwright finally hits upon the right frequency, and the captured bugs goes berserk and kills Barton. (The poor sap.)

With the experiment a success, the bomb drop is aborted. (And the sharp eye will spot Kirk Alyn, the original Superman, piloting the plane.) By now, the locusts are so spread out over the city so they decide to lure them to Wainwright's lab first, and then into the lake. He and Aimes remain at the lab, while Hanson takes position with more sound equipment out on the boat. When the main switch is flipped, the signal is broadcast over the city -- and we’re treated to several scenic postcards of Chicago being overrun by locusts, and a picture of the lab is about to be swarmed under when the signal is switched to the boat. Then, in the grips of a sexually-charged hysteria, the locusts plow into the lake and dry-hump each other until they drown -- much to Hanson’s delight.

For I have come not to bury Bert I. Gordon, but to praise him. Weeellll praise might be too strong of a word...However, I think it is high time we take a step back, inhale deeply, and stop skewering his films because of the cut and past matte shots of real bugs crawling over postcards of famous locales. Let us forgive the use of iguanas and gators for dinosaurs and cut the guy a little slack. There. Now don't you feel better?

His films, while not epics, are no where near as bad as their dubious reputations. I can think of plenty of other films in the genre that are much worse like...like -- gimme a second! -- like King Dinosaur.

...What?

That was him? 

Uhm…god #*@% it, I LIKED TORMENTED! *sigh*

If we can glean anything from this film, it’s the fact that not only can radiation make things really, really big it can also make you deaf and mute. (And also the fact that locusts can’t swim.)

I’ve always enjoyed old Bert I.’s films. They seem to have an old, pulp-novel noir thing going for them. No frills, borderline acceptable special effects and a straight forward story barreling towards the climax -- with Albert Glasser’s John Phillip Sousa riffs blaring the whole way!

Luckily for us, he made it.

Posted: 02/19/00. Copy and paste at your own legal risk.

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