Mesa of Lost Women isn't a particularly accurate title for this movie. But when you understand what a ludicrous story this one has, coupled with the fact it was made by filming extra bits to make an unreleasable earlier movie feature length, you start to understand that it might have been a bit of an effort coming up with a title that truly encapsulates the content of this one. Set on a mesa in Mexico, a mad scientist who lives in a cave conducts experiments with spider glands. By way of this he creates mutant human-spider people and an actual giant spider. A group of chumps wind up landing their plane in the area and, needless to say, things go a bit pear-shaped.
To begin with, it's a strange story but to make matters more bizarre it's incoherently told. One clear sign of a ropey screenplay is when you have lots of narration instead of events and this one has a fair bit of that, courtesy of Lyle Talbot, star of various Ed Wood movies such as Jail Bait (1954), which in turn is a film which shares the same score that adorns this one; namely, a truly incessant flamenco guitar monstrosity which will batter you into submission well before the end. But you know what? I kind of like this one. Its clunky nature is somewhat easy to get on board with and it contains a hilariously demented bit of acting from Harmon Stevens as the deranged Dr. Leland J. Masterson. But it also has strange and unique aspects that I thought were great too. Such as the really funny, yet quite good idea of having the spider-people played by male dwarfs and statuesque women (who I like to think of as the spider-babes), the reason for this combination is a result of the male/female inequality of the spider world where the females are dominant and the males pathetic weedy underlings. Only in a cheap exploitation movie would such a great concept even be considered! Anyway, the spider-babes are a clear highlight of the movie. They wander about silently staring ominously at strangers, while looking properly slinky and seductive at all times. The movie actually peaks when the most prominent spider-babe called Tarantella (played by the very attractive Tandra Quinn) embarks on a mysterious and elaborate dance in a cantina before she is shot by the lunatic doctor. Its moments such as this that mark this one out as a film that should be seen by lovers of old-school Z-grade exploitation.
To begin with, it's a strange story but to make matters more bizarre it's incoherently told. One clear sign of a ropey screenplay is when you have lots of narration instead of events and this one has a fair bit of that, courtesy of Lyle Talbot, star of various Ed Wood movies such as Jail Bait (1954), which in turn is a film which shares the same score that adorns this one; namely, a truly incessant flamenco guitar monstrosity which will batter you into submission well before the end. But you know what? I kind of like this one. Its clunky nature is somewhat easy to get on board with and it contains a hilariously demented bit of acting from Harmon Stevens as the deranged Dr. Leland J. Masterson. But it also has strange and unique aspects that I thought were great too. Such as the really funny, yet quite good idea of having the spider-people played by male dwarfs and statuesque women (who I like to think of as the spider-babes), the reason for this combination is a result of the male/female inequality of the spider world where the females are dominant and the males pathetic weedy underlings. Only in a cheap exploitation movie would such a great concept even be considered! Anyway, the spider-babes are a clear highlight of the movie. They wander about silently staring ominously at strangers, while looking properly slinky and seductive at all times. The movie actually peaks when the most prominent spider-babe called Tarantella (played by the very attractive Tandra Quinn) embarks on a mysterious and elaborate dance in a cantina before she is shot by the lunatic doctor. Its moments such as this that mark this one out as a film that should be seen by lovers of old-school Z-grade exploitation.