Tarzan The Ape Man (1981) – Review

Edgar Rice Burroughs’ legendary literary adventurer has been the subject of many a version that’s cast a more, shall we say, adult version of the lord of the apes. For a start, there’s that nookie mad version played by Terry Scott named Ugh who popped up in Carry On Up The Jungle and anyone who has ever read Phillip José Farmer’s unforgettable A Feast Unknown will be uncomfortably familiar with the dimensions of the jungle lord’s more private parts and more importantly, where he sticks it (you don’t wanna know).
However, these are, of course, unofficial takes on a more hornier version of Tarzan, but in 1981, an official movie feature the ape man was released that took a more erotic approach thanks to the director/star union of John and Bo Derek. The results however, were hardly stuff of legend – or at least not the good kind, anyway – and Tarzan The Ape Man stands tall to this day as possibly one of the most ill-advised take at the famous hero ever attempted.

Jane Parker has arrived in Africa in order to track down her estranged father who had abandoned her when she was a child in order to find himself by becoming a big game hunter and hunting for elephant graveyards in order to use their ivory. However, if by “finding himself” John Parker meant going totally native, continously falling in rivers and bellowing constantly about how much he loves his beautiful cannon (unbelievably not a metaphor), then I guess he’s living the dream, by the arrival of his long lost daughter brings news that his wife has died and I guess it galvanises the old nutter into finally having some paternal instincts. As he heads out for his latest attempt to find the elephant’s graveyard, Jane insists that she join his expedition to spend more time with him – although considering he spends most of the time banging on about his cannon and other such utterances of assorted gibberish, I’m not entirely sure why she bothers.
Anyway, with a large group of natives and the utterly besotted Harry Holt (who seems to be documenting John’s ravings for some reason) to keep them company, even the worst the jungle has to throw at them seems like a cake walk, but John cautions his naive daughter about one paticular threat that lurks among the trees and vines – that of the “white ape” known as Tarzan.
Apparently 10 feet tall and utterly feral, John lives in fear of this jungle legend spotting his nubile, barely dressed, virgin daughter wandering around the place and swoop down to have his carnal ways with her – probably because that’s exactly what happens the moment she is separated from the group. But while this Tarzan is far gentler and curious than the fearsome stories that preceed him, a fascinated Jane can’t help be utterly enraptured by the fact that he’s an absolute unit. Can this outbreak of love and lust in the jungle possibly flourish, or will a vengful John bring everything crashing down as he tears the forest apart looking for her.

I’ve never totally understood big budget erotic adventures. I mean, on one hand I do (figuratively speaking) as I guess there’s some artistic merit to injecting some art themes and content into a genre that’s usually speaky clean and fairly wholesome that adds a new layer of realism as the subject of sex inevitably rears its head. However, what’s alway puzzles me is what exactly the end game for the filmmakers. I mean, including lashings of exposed naughty bits and pausing the action every so often in order for your characters to vigorously make the beast with two backs may score points with the “artistic” crowd (plus anyone desperate to lay eyes on Bo Derek’s boobs once more), but I personally find that the lovemaking interrupts the adventure and the adventure tends to make the sexy stuff unsexy.
This might be the subject of quite an intetesting debate if said movie was actually any good, but unfortunately, Tarzan The Ape Man renders such discussions instantly impotent by being a colossal pile of laughable shit that scuppers any excitement for the concept of a movie that features Tarzan and Jane boning by being stunningly dull and borderline incompetent. You see, while Bo Derek was still flying high off the back of Blake Edwards’ 10, she went through a period where she would only be directed by her husband John Derek who’s main (and seemingly only) themes were to make movies solely about his wife experiencing sexual awakenings. While this raises question about whether the husband and wife duo were somehow convincing major studios to cough up funding for them to make movies where he films her simulating sex with other guys and certainly seems fertile ground for an intensive round of therapy, the fact that it was allowed to spill into an “official” Tarzan movie beggars belief.

You see, even without the frequent nudity and a scene where a naked Derek is scrubbed vigorously by natives while on all fours (“They’re washing me like a horse!”), Tarzan The Ape Man is silly, poorly made and deeply boring movie that all but forgets it’s titular star until he shows up with a blank expression to grap a quick bit of undershirt boob. Derek herself alternates between simpering and simpleton as Jane blunders from one situation to the next whole in a constant state of pre-arousal as a string of men that include Barbarella’s John Phillip Law and a hulking native chief alternate in perpetual state of between leering at her and being utterly smitten. Of course, it’s Tarzan who gets to give Jane what the director feels she desperately wants, but while ex-stuntman Miles O’Keeffe managed to carve out an fantasy/adventure career in the Ator movies, here Tarzan isn’t much more than an after thought who can’t seen to form a single, recognizable, human emotion on his face despite being paid to writhe around with one of cinemas most beautiful women.
But if the lovemaking is awkward, the action is worse as John Derek seems to be utterly clueless about how to pull off even the most rudimental fight scenes. In fact, two scenes that sees Tarzan rescue Jane from a snake and Tarzan wrestle the hulking Ivory King are two of the most inept action scenes I’ve ever witnessed as both are rendered in their entirety in slow motion and seemingly go on forever.
Thankfully, a visibly manic Richard Harris is on hand to salvage the film by bring so utterly deranged he puts the whole enterprise out of its misery by being so overwhelmingly awful you can’t tear you eyes away. Possibly inebriated, probably high and certainly flying solo without the need for a script, he tackles the raving John Parker as if Brian Blessed was hired to play Colonal Kurtz as he screams, bellows and rampages through the jungle like an utterly lunatic. When he isn’t calling everyone a son of a bitch and screaming “Why did you do that? Whhhhyyyy!?” after one of the natives slips and falls while climbing up a mountain (it’s not like he did it on purpose, dude), he’s trying to terrify his virginal daughter with stories of horny ape men that’ll spirit her off into the woods before letting that exact damn thing happen virtually the next day. What can I say, he’s phenomenal; he’s abysmal; he’s Richard fucking Harris.

But as we lay there in the aftermath, the truth has to be said that Tarzan The Ape Man has to be the worse film in the cannon of the jungle lord and as we watch the bizarrely awkward end credits that see a topless Derek roll around on the floor with O’Keeffe and a chimp, the overriding feeling is that Tarzan should’ve kept it in his loin cloth.
Oh, and no jokes about “swinging” if you please…
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