THE GIANT CLAW (1957)

THE GIANT CLAW contains damned near everything that makes bad '50s sci-fi so much fun: a goofy-looking monster; scenes of destruction with Styrofoam buildings, model cars, and HO-gauge trains; made-up science (my Google search of “masic atoms” turned up nothing); scientific equipment slapped together with whatever junk was handy; a female lead with a brilliant mind who nonetheless does all the “girl” things like serving coffee to the men; and the usual bargain-basement acting.

The story: a killer bird the size of a battleship (and with teeth) flies around the Earth on a swath of destruction. It is impervious to guns, bombs, and fighter jets, nor does it appear on radar screens. Scientific analysis of a discarded feather concludes that the bird emits a protective energy shield that makes it nearly invincible. Also, since the feather contains no elements known on the Earth, the bird must be an extraterrestrial from some anti-matter galaxy millions of light years away. (Don't you dare question it!) As the lady scientist deduces, the bird came here to build a nest and lay an egg. When the film's heroes shoot up the egg with rifles, it seriously pisses off the bird, which sets about trashing a cheap mock-up of New York City. (Did you know that buildings explode when a monster claws off a chunk of its top floors?)

I watch films like THE GIANT CLAW for the same reason I listen to records by the Shaggs: they're fundamentally awful, but I can't help loving them.