Peereddi I was totally surprised at how great this film.You could feel your paranoia rise as the film went on and as you gradually learned the details of the real situation.

CrawlerChunky In truth, there is barely enough story here to make a film.

Brennan Camacho Mostly, the movie is committed to the value of a good time.

Staci Frederick Blistering performances.

By-TorX-1 The plot of Prehistoric Women (AKA Slave Girls. AKA Scream of the Haunted Ferret) is mighty strange as it encompasses an English hero discovering a lost world of warring women, strangely masked men who constantly lurk in the trees, not one but two rebellious uprisings, a conclusion that I could not begin to adequately explain, and a timewarp lark that ups the weirdness scale in what is already a weird tale. Oh, and there are many, many dance numbers (complete with ensemble choral chanting) throughout the film. Indeed, there is dancing and chanting aplenty. Thus, as one may surmise from this overview, at one level the film is total rubbish, a factor exacerbated by its setting within the confines of a most unconvincing jungle, but it is still amusingly compelling, a factor 100% the result of Martine Bestwick, who is nothing short of glorious. Of the latter point, I did wonder why the stoic hero, David, was so resistant to her carnal demands! So, Prehistoric Women (AKA Slave Girls. AKA Scream of the Haunted Ferret) is a 1960s Hammer curio for sure, but it is worth catching, if only to witness the majestic Kari, before her tussle with a wheeled fibreglass member of the rhinocerotidae family, of course.

JohnHowardReid Robert Raglen was such a huge success on TV from 1946 through 1983, we tend to forget that he also made quite a few movies. This is not one of his better ones. All the same, as written, produced and directed by Michael Carreras (take no notice of the names you actually see on the screen – they are merely pseudonyms), it's an enjoyable enough romp, featuring a bevy of gorgeous blondes and a cohort of seductive brunettes. And it certainly can't be alleged against Major Carreras that he fails to extract all the excitement possible from the intriguing screenplay he hashed up under his Henry Younger alias. The color camera-work by Michael Reed is first class. So are the sets and costumes. And as for the girls, they can dance for us any time they please!

GusF After almost a month away, I decided to return to the Hammer fold with this film, otherwise known by the less accurate title "Prehistoric Women". It's not one of the studio's more sophisticated films but, by God, it's fun! Martine Beswick is very good as Kari but the rest of the cast is rather bland, if still likable. Steven Berkoff makes a brief appearance in the final scene.High camp from start to finish, it's full of unintentionally great moments that I couldn't help but love. It appeals to the part of me that like trashy cinema. While I would describe it as a guilty pleasure, I don't think that it's anywhere near bad enough to qualify as "so bad, it's good." For all its myriad faults, there is a (very!) basic level of competence to the proceedings.

ferbs54 A goofy Hammer movie whose sole raison d'etre seems to be to disprove the old adage that blondes have more fun, "Prehistoric Women" (1967) certainly did have me laffing out loud. In it, great white hunter David Marchant (unconvincingly portrayed by pretty boy Michael Latimer) is captured by Aftrican tribesmen for hunting on their lands. One lightning stroke later, Marchant finds himself in a land where brunette women rule, where hotty blondes are slaves, and in which Queen Kari (Martine Beswick) rules over all in the service of the white rhinoceros god. We never exactly find out whether or not Marchant has been zapped back in time, or whether he is in present-day Africa, or is dreaming. Maybe he's hallucinating with a bad case of dengue fever! By the end of this picture, I promise you, you'll be too brain dead to care. The film is as campy as can be--almost on a par with "Cobra Woman" (1944)!--with loads of priceless dialogue and situations. The natives' singing and dancing routines will surely have you howling! The only real special effect to speak of is Martine's abdomen; her superflat tummy looks like the result of 50,000 grueling sit-ups! Actually, Beswick is remarkably sexy in her regal role, and the picture drags whenever she's not on screen. A preposterous back story doesn't help matters either. My main man H. Rider Haggard, "the father of lost-race fiction," would flip in his grave if he ever saw this movie. Still, it's supposedly better than the 1950 American original. I can't even imagine...