Let's not kid ourselves around here, we all very well know that the main draw of an exploitation film such as Roar (1981) is just the sheer spectacle of seeing these unprepared people who really aren't equipped to handle the situation of being thrust into a hostile environment with enclosed spaces that harbour a bunch of potentially (more than likely) dangerous big cat prides, all of which were 100% REAL and not depicted through the use of any special-effects whatsoever. In short, that's really the #1 attraction of something like this, just watching your average everyday kind of stand-in people interact with large apex-predators and bearing witness to the ensuing chaos that's unfolding before their very eyes. So basically, the plot to this extraordinary film is practically nonexistent (and that's NOT an inherently bad thing). Not every single movie in all of existence necessarily needs to have a strong, deep narrative storyline to be enjoyable or even simply watchable (just take any given plotless-but-entertaining creature feature).
So what do you do when presented with the unthinkable scenario of trying to survive in a maniacal moggy menagerie? Simple, you just roll along with things and go with the flow. Really, that's all this family probably could do to help stay alive in this specific case of life-threatening danger (you've just got to run like heck!). It offers up an interesting conundrum, to say the least. And the family in question were only flying out to there from the States with the intention of visiting a fella (the husband/father of said family) who's the very proactive conservationist in charge of this little safe haven for all things feline (sort of like his own private predatory pussycat zoo). Now that takes some real dedication right there, working all day in the sweltering heat of Africa just to give these killer (and kind of cutesy) kitty-cats the best possible chance while under his care and protection. That's about the gist of things, it appears he truly does enjoy looking after every single one of these big cats to ensure their species' future survival. Hmmm, I wonder. Something tells me if Smilodon never went extinct, this guy probably would've had some prehistoric sabre-tooths join the rest of his cat clan (I think he'd definitely be tempted by the mere thought alone).
Also, it must be mentioned that absolutely none of the big cats you see throughout the film were harmed in any which way while making the movie, they were just fine and came out OK in the end. With all that cleared up, I hope you'll find solace in knowing that everything went alright when it came to the treatment of the animals on-set. To be honest, I actually felt way more sorry for the poor human cast in most of the scenes. Seems as though Tippi Hedren really suffered for her art back in the day, doing most of her later work in order to gain a fairly substantial amount of profits for the various animal charities she's associated with (a very noble cause, indeed). She must've been a real trooper while shooting this film, as I honestly can't see how any other "non-animal expert" actors/actresses (whether they're professionals or amateurs) would be willing to let a fully-grown bull elephant pick them up and literally hurl them over to one side in an innocent rough-and-tumble sort of way, like she did (which I believe resulted in her receiving a rather serious leg injury, I'm pretty sure).
At points, it does start to have a bit of a gimmicky approach with just how farcical everything gets, but it's ultimately passable for being silly "on-the-edge-of-your-seat" comedic humour and so I'll allow it that. I think it's more-or-less a safe assumption that with today's safety standards a film like this will likely never be made ever again, which is all the more reason for us to give the filmmakers the respect they deserve for actually going through with making the thing (talk about fulfilling a right passion project). If one thing's clear, is that it's surely one heck of a fascinating anomaly in the wider spectrum of independent filmmaking history outside of the supervised Hollywood studio system.
To say it was a monumental production which took several long years in the making to completely finish would be a mammoth understatement, starting its development sometime in the early '70s and not getting released until the beginning of the '80s. Under the given circumstances, I'm surprise this wasn't more well-received back when it originally came out. I mean, sure, it did do decently with regard to critics' reviews at the time. But the box-office results were abysmal, barely making enough revenue to break-even (it wasn't a major success financially). I'm pleased to know Roar has been rediscovered by the newer generations of today via the help of online reviews and acquired a worthy cult status in the process, finally bringing it out of 1980s obscurity. It may not be the greatest movie ever made, but it certainly is the most gutsiest movie ever made (gets two thumbs up from me).
So what do you do when presented with the unthinkable scenario of trying to survive in a maniacal moggy menagerie? Simple, you just roll along with things and go with the flow. Really, that's all this family probably could do to help stay alive in this specific case of life-threatening danger (you've just got to run like heck!). It offers up an interesting conundrum, to say the least. And the family in question were only flying out to there from the States with the intention of visiting a fella (the husband/father of said family) who's the very proactive conservationist in charge of this little safe haven for all things feline (sort of like his own private predatory pussycat zoo). Now that takes some real dedication right there, working all day in the sweltering heat of Africa just to give these killer (and kind of cutesy) kitty-cats the best possible chance while under his care and protection. That's about the gist of things, it appears he truly does enjoy looking after every single one of these big cats to ensure their species' future survival. Hmmm, I wonder. Something tells me if Smilodon never went extinct, this guy probably would've had some prehistoric sabre-tooths join the rest of his cat clan (I think he'd definitely be tempted by the mere thought alone).
Also, it must be mentioned that absolutely none of the big cats you see throughout the film were harmed in any which way while making the movie, they were just fine and came out OK in the end. With all that cleared up, I hope you'll find solace in knowing that everything went alright when it came to the treatment of the animals on-set. To be honest, I actually felt way more sorry for the poor human cast in most of the scenes. Seems as though Tippi Hedren really suffered for her art back in the day, doing most of her later work in order to gain a fairly substantial amount of profits for the various animal charities she's associated with (a very noble cause, indeed). She must've been a real trooper while shooting this film, as I honestly can't see how any other "non-animal expert" actors/actresses (whether they're professionals or amateurs) would be willing to let a fully-grown bull elephant pick them up and literally hurl them over to one side in an innocent rough-and-tumble sort of way, like she did (which I believe resulted in her receiving a rather serious leg injury, I'm pretty sure).
At points, it does start to have a bit of a gimmicky approach with just how farcical everything gets, but it's ultimately passable for being silly "on-the-edge-of-your-seat" comedic humour and so I'll allow it that. I think it's more-or-less a safe assumption that with today's safety standards a film like this will likely never be made ever again, which is all the more reason for us to give the filmmakers the respect they deserve for actually going through with making the thing (talk about fulfilling a right passion project). If one thing's clear, is that it's surely one heck of a fascinating anomaly in the wider spectrum of independent filmmaking history outside of the supervised Hollywood studio system.
To say it was a monumental production which took several long years in the making to completely finish would be a mammoth understatement, starting its development sometime in the early '70s and not getting released until the beginning of the '80s. Under the given circumstances, I'm surprise this wasn't more well-received back when it originally came out. I mean, sure, it did do decently with regard to critics' reviews at the time. But the box-office results were abysmal, barely making enough revenue to break-even (it wasn't a major success financially). I'm pleased to know Roar has been rediscovered by the newer generations of today via the help of online reviews and acquired a worthy cult status in the process, finally bringing it out of 1980s obscurity. It may not be the greatest movie ever made, but it certainly is the most gutsiest movie ever made (gets two thumbs up from me).