STING OF DEATH (1966)
For the sake of convenience, I'm going to refer to the monster in this movie as a were-jellyfish. It's actually a Portuguese man o' war. Yes, there is a difference, and no, I don't care enough to renumerate those differences. Who do I look like, George Costanza? Anyway, it's more fun saying "were-jellyfish." You might be wondering if this creature is beholden to a transformation cycle. The moon is moot, but a man does mutate into a gelatinous marine predator with tendrils and a bell (a trash bag), to boot. The man is Egon, the deformed assistant to noted biologist Dr. Richardson. They have a compound in the Everglades where they experiment on various aquatic lifeforms. When college kids crash the place and mock poor Egon, bikini-clad babes turn up dead or missing. Purple terror ensues.
This is a spirited mish-mash of The Horror of Party Beach and...Gidget maybe? You can substitute any "beach party" movie. For instance, I was reminded of Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine on more than one occasion. If I had to hazard a guess, I would put the budget in the five-digit range. That's lowballing it, but I must admit, Sting of Death is gorgeous. I dig the crisp underwater photography and the bizarro lighting that makes everything look like an Easter egg. On the downside, you have to wade through a lot of Neil Sadaka songs to get to the good stuff. Patience is rewarded, so I advise you to "do the jellyfish." NOTE: Performing such an act may result in chills and/or fatigue. Sting of Death is commonly associated with 1966's Death Curse of Tartu, as they were both directed by William Grefe. Of course, I own the double feature DVD (thank you, Something Weird).
Recommended to fans of bioluminescence and volleyball.
The Spanish one-sheet.
