Godmonster of Indian Flats

I have seen every sort of monster: birds, cats, piranhas, crocs, bats, ants, grizzles, sharks; but killer sheep is a new one. I looked forward to seeing a flokati attack humans.

Yes, the acting is baad, the story line is baad, sometimes downright silly, the special effects were criminally baad, and the monster really looks baad. One flighty character (Mariposa) even tries to communicate with the creature with some kind of new age arm waving.

Just because a movie takes place in the West, doesn't make it a western, and just because you have a mutant sheep, you can't call it a horror movie unless there is some actual horror.

Apparently unseen since its initial theatrical sweep in the early 70s(presuming it actually received distribution at all), this long-forgotten little coprolite was excavated from some lost-film boneyard during the late 90s, and has since laid claim to its rightful spot on the roll-call of the weirdest movies ever made.

GODMONSTER weaves an ambling configuration concerning a sheep fetus being exposed to a strange chemical vapor. Taken to a lab by scientists, it matures into a bald-headed, lopsided hirsute beast with a parched lolling tongue and a gimp arm. Naturally, the upright-walking miscreation escapes and hobbles over the arid desert terrain, scaring a few kids and wreaking general minor havoc. This course of events gives rise to a climactic stage so heteroclite...SO IMPOSSIBLY RANDOM...that it literally defies description.

All the elemental constituents of this film are surprisingly solid, and performances from the key players are moreless on-the-beam. It even has sharply defined characters and a developed, articulate subplot touching on sensitive sociopolitical issues. In taking note of these niceties, the burning question arises...how in hell could the folks involved with GODMONSTER have justified applying their erudite capacities to such a fly-ball project? Could a concept as utterly 'non-compos-mentis' as this have possibly seemed like a felicitous undertaking at the drawing-board stage? The mind boggles.

We can't lose this film again, or future generations will dismiss the lore as either a collective hallucination or an elaborate hoax. 10/10? 1/10? ...how does one possibly rate something like this?

Indescribeable, and a must see for so bad it's good movie connoisseurs. Even without the ridiculous looking sheep, "Godmonster of Indian Flats" is terrible. It comes across as three or four separate scripts that somehow the audience is supposed to believe are related. One highlight is a dog's funeral, complete with church service and white doggy size casket. An attempted lynching of the black man who supposedly killed the dog is another stunning moment. Then there is the scientist's sincere belief that the phosphorous belching beast "could unlock the mysteries of creation". In fact, the film actually seems to be drawing a parallel between the birth of the mutant sheep, and the birth of a divine being. The whacked out story concludes on a mountain of trash, which seems like an appropriate ending for the "Godmonster" - MERK

For the first, say, 85 minutes, I couldn't make heads or tails out of this film. It appears to be a lost episode of the Brady Bunch where they wake up and discover themselves in a lost episode of Gunsmoke where they all wake up and find themselves in a lost episode of Night Gallery. I get why the hookers wear Victorian get-ups, but why does the visiting financier wear a Wild, Wild West outfit while trying to close a business deal? Most realistic dump ever. Coolest movie monster ever. It looks like a huge plushie that got caught in a fan and half skinned. And sheepy got back! Somehow, the last five minutes of this extraordinarily aimless film turned it into an existentialist allegory and it all seemed perfectly sensible. Except maybe the white plastic casket at the dog's funeral and, of course, the pie eating contest.

No, folks, this is NOT a no-budget horror flick from the seventies. Look again - it's well-shot, well-staged, and, if anything, it's wildly overpopulated with enthusiastic minor characters and extras.

Godmonster isn't like anything else you've ever seen, heard, read, smelled, or tasted, with the possible exception of a Thomas Pynchon novel. Like Pynchon, Hobbs keeps piling on plot until you think the plate in your head is going to shatter. And then you realize that it's only the first thirty minutes. And it keeps coming at you and it WON'T STOP.

I've seen them all, from Acid Eaters to Zombie Nightmare. I've laughed at Begotten, wept over Forbidden Zone, sat amazed at semi-legal prints of White Dog with Dutch subtitles and Addio Uncle Tom with Greek subtitles.

I've got Killer Klowns in Spanish.

But Godmonster is the last stop on the line. I wish this WERE a crappy rubber-suit monster movie. It'd be vastly less disturbing.