azathothpwiggins A rocket crashes! A gigantic slug emerges from the wreckage! THE CREEPING TERROR (aka: THE CRAWLING MONSTER) has arrived! As it ssslllowwwlllyyyy bobbles along, the sheriff investigates. We know this because the narrator tells us so. Look out, sheriff! Aaaaaggh!! The military moves in, in some farmer's truck w/ "U.S. ARMY" stenciled on the door. The narrator narrates, and "actors" act as though a movie might be happening. The monster moves on, while hapless extras put themselves in its mouth! Several nonsequiturs follow, leaving the narrator to make sense of it all. The monster, looking like the lead float in the idiot parade, meanders on. Not even a woman in the world's heaviest -obviously lead-lined- bathrobe is safe! Bobby and his portly grandfather are the next to feel the digestive juices of this escaped conglomeration from granny's sewing room! The narrator continues his attempts at making a semi-literate story out of this pig's breakfast. A hootenanny is broken up. The beast drops by unannounced. What the...? There goes the girl in the gold pants! She's cutting a rug, twisting like she's drilling herself into the basement! Along w/ her are several human-sized marionettes being tossed about by unseen hands. The local elderly look on. The monster puts an end to the shindig! Please, leave the girl w/ the gold pants! Grown people allow the occupants of the fecal costume to pull them inside. EEaaaggghh!! The narrating narrator tries to weave it all into some coherent structure. Defied at every turn, he is doomed! The waddling march of terror continues, right up to the non-finale. The flaws in this movie are too numerous to list. The ineptitude level required to launch a hyper-schlock missile like this is beyond comprehension! We can only hope that somewhere, in some better place, the girl in the gold pants dances on... and on. EXTRA POINTS: #1- For the crazy, jazzy, orangutans-loose-in-the-instrument-room, fitting-in-nowhere, musical soundtrack, combined w/ those beeping, buzzing noises for texture! #2- For the narrator. God love him! He tried, dammit! He tried...

brando647 Apparently Vic Savage, director of THE CREEPING TERROR, never worked in film again after the debacle that was this film. I've watched it twice now and, to that news, I'm not surprised. This movie has earned the dishonor of being the absolute worst movie I've ever seen, rocketing past WAR OF THE ROBOTS as most insufferable collection of images ever put to celluloid. There is absolutely nothing positive I can think to say about THE CREEPING TERROR. I was gleefully watching my way through a 50-movie collection of cheesy science fiction movies until I came to this one; I put the collection down and still haven't gone back for fear of coming across another movie as miserably bad as THE CREEPING TERROR. What if there's another one out there, waiting to turn my brain to slush? I have never regretted another 75 minutes of my life as much as this. And I did it twice! I gave it the benefit of the doubt, believing there had to be some modicum of entertainment to be gleaned from it. I was wrong and I hate myself for trying. A friend of mine learned of my suffering and suggested I watch the MST3K episode on it, but I haven't been able to bring myself to sit down and willfully subject myself to this movie again, MST3K or no MST3K. I hate it with a passion and the mere mention of the title is enough to send flashes of searing pain through my mind.THE CREEPING TERROR believes it's about a crashed rocket ship in a small American town and the alien "monster" it unleashes on the unsuspecting populace. What THE CREEPING TERROR is actually about is a patchwork of shag carpet samples thrown over some poor soul who's forced to drag a series of children's' wagons behind them at an excruciatingly slow pace while some underpaid actor or actress does their best to feign terror before being "eaten" (i.e. being uncomfortably dragged through the hole at the front). Any and all information is passed along to the viewing audience by means of voice-over narration. This movie is almost entirely voice-over narration, which plays over boring scenes of people doing mostly nothing. Sounding like a mid-twentieth century government PSA, it's hard to find an ounce of tension anywhere in this movie. As if the narration weren't enough to kill the mood, no one in this movie can act. When the crashed rocket ship is first discovered, a local policeman crawls through an opening and gets eaten inside (we never see it because this movie is awful) but no one reacts. A lawman is eaten alive by an alien life form and dude just wanders over to the patrol car without a care in the world and radios it in. And no one in town could care less. Everyone just goes about business as normal with an "alien" on the loose because writer Robert Silliphant wanted audiences to suffer. And suffer we did. That monster…Most of this abomination is footage of the "terror" creeping up on people at a snail's pace, confronting them, and the victims failing to do anything short of standing still and screaming. Grandfather out fishing with his grandson? Eaten. Hippies have a picnic? Eaten. All of them. No survivors. A bunch of teens having a dance party in the community center? Eaten. All of them. All. Of. Them. Somehow, no one can escape a creature that won't fit through most doorways and could be easily outrun by a toddler. One hundred and fifteen insufferable minutes of this. Someone, somewhere thought making a movie was a piece of cake. And then someone, perhaps even more incompetent than Vic Savage and Robert Silliphant combined, gave clearance to release this piece of utter trash to unsuspecting audiences. They knew what they'd done. This was released in 1964. Movies had been around a good while at this point. They had to know this was unfit for human consumption and they released it anyway. At least I got 49 other movies to dull the pain from having put money toward this; those poor souls in 1964 who wandered into a theater or the drive- in, ready to have some fun, I mourn for them. All I can do is warn future generations of cheesy, Z-grade creature features to search for their next fix elsewhere. THE CREEPING TERROR has nothing to offer and may have lasting damage to their psyche if subjected to the full 115 minutes.

Dalton Jones The director borrowed about $20,000 to make this movie. During filming in Florida someone stole the monster and the dialog tapes. Thus the narration and cheap monster. The movie was so bad, the investors wanted their money back. But no. The director went into hiding for about 30 years. Hilarious. I especially got a kick at how slow the monster had to move. The victims literally had to wait to be eaten. Some were so impatient that they even crawled on in. Bad luck and low budget had a big influence on this movie. But, that being said, if you are used to less than great movies and like to watch with the volume down. You may enjoy this. I would suggest following it with the naked monster.

stevescott59 SPOILER: The main "Monster" in The Creeping Terror racks up a pretty impressive body count despite it's lack of speed.The "Monster" looks like it just walked off line from a Chinese New Year's parade and moves with all the speed of a lame turtle or a government worker getting paid by the hour. The only things in this movie that couldn't outrun the "Monster" are a rock and a tree. The only way a person could get caught by the "Monster" is if they ran into a tree or tripped over a rock and knocked themselves out.The only time I rooted for the "Monster" to show up was in the "Dance Hall" scene. If the darn thing could have moved faster, we wouldn't have to endure the mind-numbing music that seemed to have the same few notes looped over and over again as the girl in the skin-tight gold pants gyrated on.(Taken from my show RETERO MOVIE REVIEW on spreaker.com and iHeartRadio. A different review can be found on "Oklahoma & The Movies" on spreaker.com)