Few films manage to weaponize both housecats and Leslie Nielsen’s chest hair in the same ninety-eight minutes. Day of the Animals (1977) does—and still clocks in as only the second-strangest eco-horror relic of the Carter administration. Alas, ozone panic and animal rampage do not automatically equal cinematic gold; sometimes they yield an overcooked trail mix of good intentions, rubber fangs, and unearned machismo. Consider this your formal, faint-praise salute.
William Girdler had just scored a surprise hit with Grizzly (1976) when producer Edward L. Montoro shouted, “Again, but bigger—and with every species at REI!” Girdler obliged, recycling practically the same template—swap one bear for an entire food chain, crank the aerosol-panic subplot to DEFCON-2, and call it a cautionary tale. Financing came via Film Ventures International, a studio whose business model was equal parts hustle and hazy accounting; $1.2 million later, the green light blinked.
What sets this project apart is the ozone hook. By 1977, “CFCs” had entered nightly news lingo, and Day tried to surf that anxiety wave: animals at elevations above 5,000 feet go berserk, and civilization forgets to pack sunscreen or radios. In theory, it was forward-looking environmental commentary; in practice, it was The Birds on a bulk-purchase budget.
Of course, marketing further muddied the situation. Since Girdler, Montoro, Christopher George, and Richard Jaeckel were all returning vets from Grizzly, many viewers mistook Day for an official sequel, so much so that the real Grizzly II (shot in 1983, released officially in 2021) felt like déjà vu of déjà vu. Symmetry is lovely; originality, not required.
Christopher George once again dons the rugged guide persona, this time opposite Michael Ansara’s stoic Native American ranger, a combo that suggests REI clerks on a team-building retreat. Lynda Day George, an actual activist for ozone awareness, signed on to lend the proceedings a veneer of virtue, while Leslie Nielsen, still two years shy of his Airplane! Reinvention breaks bad as a swaggering ad executive who bullies tourists and attempts to wrestle what the script calls a “grizzly” (read: cinnamon-colored black bear). That ursine scuffle is the film’s GIF-able moment: Nielsen shirtless, screaming, approximating WWE choreography before becoming Bear Chow Deluxe.
Behind the camera, animal wrangler Monty Cox corralled wolves, hawks, and at least one genuinely confused honey bear, aided by Susan Backlinie—yes, the Jaws skinny-dipper-who moonlighted as Lynda Day George’s stunt double. Shot in Todd-AO 35 at Long Barn, California, the production looks crisp when it isn’t being upstaged by stock wildlife inserts. Still, the central premise—depleted ozone equals murder-monkeys—forces the plot into a loopy relay of unconnected set pieces: hawks knock hikers off cliffs, dogs form a roving street gang, and Mother Nature queues an entire menagerie for cameo carnage.
Narrative cohesion was sacrificed to the almighty checklist of Things That Bite. Tension rarely builds; it resets after each attack like a grim nature-themed carnival game. By the time our survivors float to safety on a makeshift raft, the audience has developed an advanced sympathy for the poor mountain lions forced to pad through clunky set-ups.
Critics pounced faster than the film’s irate rodents. Contemporary reviews labeled it derivative, amateurish, and—worst sin of all—humorless. Even genre devotees have trouble defending the plywood character arcs and bargain-basement matte shots. Rotten Tomatoes’ post-facto 40% score feels generous, possibly gifted by nostalgic insomniacs.
Yet cult status is a stubborn creature. Home-video reissues—from Media Home Entertainment’s chewed-up VHS to Severin’s 2021 Region-Free Blu-ray—keep finding new eyeballs. Rifftrax’s 2017 commentary helped; hearing Michael J. Nelson brand Nielsen a “proto-Ron Swanson gone feral” almost makes the runtime glide. Meanwhile, environmentalists cite the film as so-bad-it’s-good propaganda: if slap-fighting a bear is the price of ignoring aerosol regulation, maybe we do need caps on CFCs.
In pop-culture trivia circles, Day scores extra credit for accidental alumni networking: Backlinie’s double duty, Nielsen and child-actress Michelle Stacy’s eventual rendezvous in Airplane!, and the bizarre ripple effect of Grizzly II’s delayed release. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a B-sides compilation—occasionally fascinating, mostly filler, undeniably weird.
Conclusion
Ultimately, Day of the Animals is an under-seasoned trail mix of eco-horror posturing and drive-in schlock. Two stars for ambition, bear-wrestling bravado, and pristine Sierra vistas; none for pacing, plausibility, or respect for raccoon wranglers. Watch with friends, beverages, and a sturdy ozone layer overhead.
⭐️⭐️ (2/5)
#EcoHorror #WilliamGirdler #LeslieNielsenVsBear #SchlockCinema #VintageCultFilm #OzoneGoneBonkers
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