Lost World, The (1998)

Directed by Bob Keen
Written by Jean LaFleur and Leopold St-Pierre, based (hah!) on the novel by Arthur Conan Doyle
Starring
- Patrick Bergin
- Jayne Heitmeyer
- David Nerman
- Julian Casey
- Michael Sinelnikoff
Produced by Danny Rossner and Murray Shostak

A while back, I reviewed the 1992 version of The Lost World starring John-Rhys Davies, David Warner, and Eric McCormack, and railed on the movie for the liberties it took with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novel. I would like here to publicly apologize to said movie and all involved in its production; I had not known how far they could bastardize the novel until I saw this 1998 version. What we have here is a perfect example of exactly how Hollywood (and, in this case Canadian Hollywood-wannabes) is uniquely suited to screw up a terrific story. You know that saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”? They’ve never heard it in the movie biz; apparently, their motto is, “If it ain’t broke, it can obviously take some more screwing.”

I actually went back and reread the novel before starting this review, just to make sure that yes, there was a great story at the base of a string of bad adaptations. I’m now starting to believe that, with the possible (but unconfirmed) exception of Dracula or Frankenstein, no good novel has been been the subject of so many poor movies as The Lost World. I’m hoping that, as piss-poor as this one is, it might finally convince “development” types to leave the poor novel the hell alone!

That sinking feeling (dear heavens, it’s becoming such a familiar sensation) can only barely wait until the credits are done before it launches, attached to the words we see on the screen: “Mongolia 1934.” Mongolia?!? What in hell are we doing in Mongolia?!? I thought it was bad enough that the 1992 version translanted the story from South America to Africa — but Mongolia? What possible rationale could there be for this? (This is going to be a common refrain throughout this review: “At least the 1992 version got that right!”) And furthermore, 1934? That’s a pretty good trick, seeing how the original novel was published 1912. This small message, “Mongolia 1934,” should be read with the following subtext: “We, the producers, care not a white about the legitimacy or integrity of this production, and shall feel free to change and delete features of the original for no reason but our own inscrutible whims. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”

Think I’m bitter enough? (And the fact that my computer just crashed, losing the original version of the next 1000 words, does very little to elevate my mood.)

So. We’ve started off with a short voiceover, as Malone, the expedition’s reporter, tells us that he’s going to recount the entire sordid tale. What’s wrong with this? Well, he also let’s us know that somehow he’s still trapped alone in the Lost World. Hmm…

Okay. Story starts for real. Explorer Maple White and his Mongolian sidekick Asbek explore a cave in the Lost World plateau, and discover a nest with a din-style egg in it. Exulting that this is exactly the proof they need, White opens the bubbly and cranks up Beethoven’s Fifth on his Victrola. (He’s been backpacking through Mongolia with a record player on his back in case he found something to celebrate? Apparently.) Alas, those stirring chords manage to stir up about a gazillion mutant bats (rod puppets and adequate CGI), and Asbek soon bites it, while White plummets from the cave down a cliff. He’s gathered up and taken back the Mongolian village where he’s cared for by Asbek’s brother and sister until Professor Challenger (Patrick Bergin) arrives.

Let me repeat that: Professor Challenger is played by Patrick Bergin. Now, as anyone who knows The Lost World knows, Challenger is a short, powerfully-built man, with the black beard of an Assyrian idol and the bombastic demeanor of a bull. In other words, it’s John Rhys-Davies. (Here comes that refrain again: At least the 1992 version got this right!) Patrick Bergin, on the other hand, is tall, of average build (though his face is getting a little doughy in these latter years), and cleanshaven except for the expected “explorer’s stubble”, and plays Challenger as this script presents him, with deferential firmness and no hint of an British accent (this despite the fact that Bergin was born in Ireland). Apparently this is not the famous Professor George E. Challenger of the novel, but perhaps his lesser-known cousin Lou Challenger.

Challenger and White are seemingly old acquaintances, but Challenger gets little from White before he expires. He does, however, find White’s sketchbook with pictures of several fantastic creatures, and the egg, which promptly breaks open to reveal an embryonic pterodactyl.

Cut to London, one month later, as Challenger presents the sketchbook and pterodactyl-in-a-bottle to the assembled skeptical scientists. He manages to persuade his main detractor, Professor Summerlee (Michael Sinelnikoff), to accompany a new expedition. A Frenchman then stands up (and perhaps Bergin’s lack of accent is the better choice, as the French accent here is atrocious) and offers to fund the expedition, and furthermore offers a $100,000 reward for the first person to bring back a live specimen. Unfortunately, his price for his assistance is the inclusion in the expedition of hunter John Roxton (David Nerman), a swaggering unintentional parody of the Indiana Jones-style American male: beaten fedora, black turtleneck under a leather jacket, a smooth week’s stubble, and a cigar the size of a table leg. I’m sure we’re not meant to like him, but I’m not so sure that we’re supposed to start giggling as soon as his nefarious face is introduced.

Who else is in the party? Why, young Malone the reporter (Julian Casey), of course; he is, ostensibly, the viewpoint character after all. Despite an earlier comment about Challenger’s well-known distrust of the press, he and Challenger hit it off famously when Malone offers his services on the expedition and suggests a balloon to ascend to the Lost World plateau. (Everyone, repeat after me: “At least the 1992 version got this part right!”)

And who else do we need in our expedition? Why, the obligatory female that every producer feels the need to shoehorn into the all-male expedition of the original novel, of course. In this case, it’s Amanda White (Jayne Heitmeyer), daughter of Maple, coming along to preserve her father’s memory and protect his interests.

So, off to Mongolia. Now, for comparison, let’s take a look at Roy Chapman Andrews’ famous Mongolian paleantological expedition of 1922, in which he ventured into the desert with a dozen automobiles, plus an entire herd of camels carrying gasoline for the motorcars. In this case, however, we have a single halftrack that either makes use of a Mr. Fusion^TM, or stops in at the Amoco stations that dot the outer Mongolian landscape; somehow, without an external gas tank, they manage to drive for at least three weeks before they have to leave the halftrack behind. And naturally, tensions between Challenger and Roxton give both ample opportunity to try and prove their Alpha Male status by being protective of Amanda; Challenger really pulls out the big guns when he accuses Roton of shooting animals “on the Endangered Species list”. Which is a meaningless (and anachronistic) charge in 1934, seeing how the Endangered Species List was first published in 1964 — hell, in 1934, people were still picking the last bits of roast dodo bird out of their teeth.

And it’s right here that the last straw is unceremoniously dumped on the back of my suspension of disbelief (already a much belabored animal by this time): There’s a volcano. Just for the hell of it, apparently. Behind the halftrack, a volcano erupts with a gout of clean white smoke, and our expeditioners ooh and ahh unconcernedly at it as they drive away. It makes no further impact on the story; it’s simply a volcano. Perhaps one of the producers’ children said, “Daddy, howcum you never make a movie with a volcano?” So he did.

Onward they trek, stopping at the Mongolian village to pick up the late Asbek’s brother (didn’t catch his name) and sister Djena (Gregorlane Minot-Payeur), at whom Malone immediately starts making moon eyes. It’s odd that both this version and the 1992 one went to great lengths to introduce a poorly-developed interracial romance. Yes, boys, we know you’re all really liberal and open-minded and all; you can stop trying so hard now.

And onward still they trek, through the snow, and into one of the strangest scenes to be had. See, this one comes from the novel, verbatim:

Summerlee: May I ask, sir, in what capacity do you take it upon yourself to issue these orders?
Challenger: I do it, Professor Summerlee, as leader of this exposition.
Summerlee: I am compelled to tell you, sir, that I do not recognize you in that capacity.
Challenger: Indeed! Perhaps you would define my exact position.
Summerlee: Yes sir. You are a man whose veracity is upon trial, and this committee is here to try it. You walk sir, with your judges.
Challenger: Dear me! In that case you will, of course, go on your way, and I will follow at my leisure. If I am not the leader I cannot be expected to lead.

Now, this makes perfect sense in the novel (and in the 1992 version — need I say it again?); the expedition had been put under the command of Summerlee, but Challenger had shown up once it had begun and had become through sheer force of character its de facto leader. However, in this version, there had never been any question that Challenger was the leader, with Summerlee along as an observer. And so I have to ask — of all the ignored facets of the novel, of all the really nifty things that were glossed over in order to make this steaming pile of dino poop, why in the world would they choose this little spot in which to be faithful to the novel, despite the fact that the context which supports it has been completely removed?

Jeez, this is killing me. And we’re only marginally over a half hour into the movie.

Let’s fast-forward a bit, shall we? They trek through the snow (!) to the base of the plateau, where they start constructing their balloon. But then the females of the party are kidnapped by a tribe of Neandertals with a dinosaur cult fetish, and it’s only by blasting most of them away that Challenger and Roxton rescue them. Then it’s a dizzying escape ride in the balloon, which drifts up and over the lip of the plateau, revealing the supposedly tropical interior. Then a bevy of pterodactyls attacks the balloon, and they crashland.

Did you notice the word “supposedly” in the preceding paragraph? Here’s why; after the crash, we see a number of shots establishing the tropical nature of the surroundings — but as soon as we see the characters in situ, it’s obvious that we’re in a temperate coniferous forest (such as would be found in, say, British Columbia, where these scenes were shot), with a fog machine turned on low to add that “tropical steam” to the air. One of the advantages of watching most of the seven seasons of Highlander: The Series is that you get to know exactly what environments British Columbia is a good stand-in for, and tropical climes ain’t one of them.

We’re given out first dinosaur now, in the form of a brachiosaurus-style critter with stegosaurus-style spikes on the tail. Just to prove how stupid they are, both Challenger and Summerlee immediately identify it as a brontosaurus with peculiar modifications. (I’m sorry, but viewers these days are a little more sophisticated — could you please go to the trouble of correctly identifying your dinosaurs?) The party also finds ruins of some ancient civilization, which the Neandertals keep boodytrapped; eventually they find a place to bed down for the night.

No, sorry, the movie gets little more exciting now that we’ve reached the Lost World. We do get some action as Roxton tries to pull a double-cross to get the ballooon prepared and get back on his own with a live specimen, but gets et by a giant crocodile that lives in tunnels (!) and has the brains to bait traps (!!). And then Summerlee wanders off, to be attacked by something he identifies as a Tyrannosaurus Rex but which is very obviously something halfway between an allosaurus and something vaguely raptoresque (I’m kind a glad my six-year-old didn’t watch this with me; he would have been disgusted by the misidentifications); said dinosaur punishes Summerlee for his stupidity by dismembering him and pointlessly not eating the parts.

Eventually, having survived Neandertals, explosions, the mutant bats again, and vicious little eoraptor things, we end up with the two survivors, Challenger and Amanda, escaping by using the balloon material as a parachute. They get back to London, where Challenger declares that the Lost World is nothing but a fable. (Congratulations, we’ve managed to top the lameness of the 1992 ending.)

Ah, but what about Malone? Mistakenly left for dead, he’s now living and looking like a caveman as he finishes the account in his notebook and throws it from the plateau, for someone to maybe find somewhere.

The end.

You may think that the above is uncharacteristically bilious on my part, but believe me, I haven’t even managed to vent as much bile as I would like. Few things annoy me more than watching an cinematic screw-up on which professionals obviously worked hard and long to screw it up as bad as they did. I mean, it’s gotta take several drafts to take the story line as far from the plot and spirit of the original novel as this ill-conceived monstrosity got. I can’t attribute it to anything but a malicious intent to consciously make this as bad a version of The Lost World as is possible, and I can only reply with contempt. And to top it off — to cement someone’s reserved parking in Hell — the producers had the audacity to pin “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s” before the title, despite the fact that very little of what is inflicted on us in the ensuing ninety minutes can be laid at the feet of Doyle. The box even proclaims, “The Original Tale of Prehistoric Terror. More Horrifying than its Imitators.”

Add that to simple poor film-making — CGI work that would be barely adequate on an episode of Sliders, the clearly visible arm of a stagehand throwing boulders during an explosion — and we have here a world-class stinker with all of the appeal of a post-Mexican fart in an elevator.