During the 1950s, there was a rash of films dealing with the possibilities of atomic mutation, specifically its effects on insects. Most of these “big bug” movies ended up as fare for Mystery Science Theater 3000, assuming they were remembered at all. But a few of them were good enough to have staying power. “Them!” is one of the best of that latter category.
Released in 1954, it was one of the first big bug movies, and it set a standard for all the rest — a standard which, sadly, was rarely ever met. It deals with the emergence of giant ants in the New Mexico desert, formed from the first atomic bomb test, that eventually make their way to Los Angeles. This is of course laughably absurd, but the film avoids campiness by being funny in its own right. The supporting cast is full of memorable scene-stealing performances, and the script is smart enough to avoid many of the pitfalls for this subject matter.
The film is full of memorable shots that look too good to be in a B-movie. One of the opening shots, a bird’s-eye view of a catatonic little girl wandering through the desert, has the kind of gorgeous expansiveness evocative of a John Ford western or an Ansel Adams photograph.
The police pick up the little girl, which leads to the investigation of a number of mysterious incidents, including an attack on a roadside market. The scene in an abandoned market, which is partially demolished and clouded in a sandstorm, is another of the film’s highlights. The lighting is dark and eerie in a way that approaches high horror-film art. By this point the film has created a lonely, bizarrely foreboding sense of atmosphere. All this without revealing any giant insects.
When the ants do arrive, they’re somewhat anti-climactic. To an audience tempered in a decade’s worth of near-seamless computer effects, a few giant puppets might seem almost funny. The effects weren’t even all that great for the times, or even for big bug movies. “Tarantula,” which came out a year later, did a better job by using real spider footage interposed over desert scenery.
But the effects hardly matter, as there are so damn few of them. The giant puppets are used mostly to show you the ants are actually there. The film takes this perceived deficiency and turns it into an advantage, evoking the ants more often than showing them, much in the way “Jaws” did with its shark. Everything is done in such a way that it is conceivable the film could have never shown a single ant, while still remaining just as effective.
And while the ants might look a little silly, they sure burn up well. Flame-throwers are used in abundance throughout the film, and anyone who enjoys the visceral thrills of streaming jets of burning gas will find plenty to be happy about here.
Any of the film’s deficiencies can be easily overlooked merely so one can enjoy the supporting cast. This is another way the film feels like something from John Ford, in the way that almost every scene is filled with lively minor characters. While the leads are good, they are still only functional. The smaller roles, on the other hand, are scene-stealing gems. Edmund Gwenn as an absent-minded doctor for the Department of Agriculture leads the pack, giving an intellectual goofiness to his role that makes his scenes a pleasure. He handles the usual role of scientist in these movies — as the harbinger of doom — with dopey style.
The movie has its imperfections and it is remarkably dated, but still remarkably enjoyable. While the message behind it — that the nation must be cautious with its newfound nuclear technology — will be mostly lost on an audience more familiar with the effects of nuclear radiation, it still holds more than enough thrills to compete against any number of high-concept Hollywood epics. Giant ants didn’t come crawling out of the deserts of the Southwest. But with an evocative power reminiscent of old radio shows, the film kind of makes you wish they would have.