ROAR.
“Can’t go thru life without seeing this.”
When I asked my movie companion if he would indulge me in seeing this movie as our chosen film one evening, I described it and sent a write-up I’d found. The above was his reply. And even having seen it now, having cringed and rolled my eyes and even snickered, I concur: Can’t go thru life without seeing this.
For several weeks leading up to the release (re-release) of Roar, I saw the trailer at Sun-Ray Cinema—several times. Half-way through the first viewing, I couldn’t help but to giggle as, even as intense (but farcical) as the movie seemed to be, it became utterly comical when, flashing across the screen, was the title of the film, “ROAR.” My mind immediately expected to hear a loud lion’s roar to accompany the text. But no. Instead, over the delightful music, you hear an announcer’s voice state (not yell, not imitate a lion’s call, just state), “Roar.” That’s right—-not even much of an exclamation mark is implied.
The film was originally released in 1981, and it took over a decade to produce. Noel Marshall (who funded this film from his earnings he made as producer of The Exorcist, and who lost most (all?) of that money on Roar (one estimate indicates it cost $17 million to make the movie, which grossed only $2 million at the box office)) took filmmaking to a different level in Roar, casting himself, his real-life wife and two of his sons and his step-daughter Melanie Griffith (yes, *that* Melanie Griffith) and filming them all among their privately-owned wild and exotic animals, over 150 of them. The movie’s premise involves the patriarch living in Africa studying big cats (including cats such as tigers, not at all African, but explained away as his research into the cats all getting along) when his family comes for a visit from the states. Wires crossed, the family arrives while he is away from the house, a house in which lions and tigers and such wonder in and out and all about. Danger—and actual serious injury—ensues. (Over 70 of the cast and crew were injured; the teen-aged Griffith required facial reconstructive surgery.)
Admittedly, as the film began, grand scenes of Kenya’s Lake Nakuru and a visit with members of the Massai tribe fill the screen. And I was immediately smitten with the movie as I settled in comfortably to reminisce about my brief visit to that country. Then the “acting” began. And the scenery changed from the beautiful Kenyan landscape to that of the western US, north of LA. I would say that the plot just could not withstand the completely impromptu and (obviously) unscripted roles of the lions. But really, the lions are what make the film worth seeing.
I want to be fair and remind myself that the movie is over three decades old. Then I’m reminded of actual great films much older than that. No, the movie’s faults are not about it being filmed in the 70s.
Instead, the film plods along, stretching out that sieve-like plot for over an hour-and-a-half, invoking cringes, gasps, giggles, and at times, being able to do little more than drop one’s face into one’s palms, shaking one’s head, aghast that someone would make a movie like this, tempting the fate of safety of one’s family with these big cats. (Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the elephant in the movie—an elephant with some serious anger management issues. Do *not* irritate a cranky elephant!)
All of that said, though, I am glad I saw this film. I gave the film four stars, as odd a film as it is. But it is just that interesting and different that it easily ranked higher than a mere three stars. I cannot say it’s a classic (I’m not sure what makes a movie such), but maybe it should be. And I do recommend you catch it too. If you missed its release this spring, no worries. It’s to be on DVD this summer.
ROAR.