Allan Quatermain and the Lost City of Gold
Okay, settle back into that comfy armchair, maybe imagine the faint whir of a VCR rewinding somewhere nearby. Remember the mid-80s? The cinematic landscape was ablaze with whip-cracking archaeologists and booby-trapped temples, thanks largely to Mr. Spielberg and Mr. Lucas. Every studio wanted a piece of that action, and few chased it with the gleeful, budget-conscious abandon of Cannon Films. Enter (again) Richard Chamberlain as H. Rider Haggard's classic adventurer in Allan Quatermain and the Lost City of Gold (1986), a film that landed on video store shelves with the speed of a rolling boulder trap, hot on the heels of its predecessor.
### Back for More Gold (and Questionable Effects)
Following directly from 1985's King Solomon's Mines, this sequel essentially promises more of the same: our intrepid hero Allan Quatermain (Richard Chamberlain) is pulled back into adventure, this time searching for his missing brother, Robson, who vanished while seeking the legendary Lost City of Gold. Naturally, the feisty Jesse Huston (Sharon Stone, returning with equal parts pluck and slightly anachronistic 80s hair) insists on tagging along. Their journey through darkest Africa – or rather, the picturesque landscapes of Zimbabwe where both films were shot, reportedly almost back-to-back to save costs – involves hostile tribes, treacherous terrain, and a truly unforgettable encounter involving a rather large, rubbery-looking arachnid.
Directed by Gary Nelson (who had helmed Disney's The Black Hole a few years prior), and penned by Gene Quintano (whose eclectic credits include Police Academy sequels and later, Sudden Death), the film rarely deviates from the established adventure template. There's a sense of déjà vu, not just because it mimics Indiana Jones, but because it feels so similar in tone and execution to King Solomon's Mines. It's a comfort-food kind of adventure movie, familiar and requiring little heavy lifting from the viewer.
### Charmingly Cannon
Let's be honest: this isn't Raiders of the Lost Ark. Produced by the legendary Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus of Cannon Films fame, Lost City of Gold carries the distinct fingerprint of their B-movie empire. The budget, while likely not insignificant for Cannon (reports vary, but the first film cost around $12.5 million, a hefty sum then, though this sequel likely aimed lower), feels stretched thin. Sets sometimes look like elaborate high school play constructions, the optical effects have that certain charmingly obvious 80s quality, and the action sequences, while enthusiastic, lack the kinetic punch of their blockbuster inspirations.
Yet, there's an undeniable earnestness here. Richard Chamberlain, ever the consummate professional, brings a certain dignity and wry charm to Quatermain, even when navigating dialogue that wouldn't win any Oscars. Sharon Stone, still a couple of years away from her star-making turn in Total Recall (1990) and a world away from Basic Instinct (1992), is game for anything, whether it's dodging spears or delivering slightly sassy rejoinders. Her chemistry with Chamberlain is passable, though it leans more towards bickering companions than smoldering romance.
### Enter Umslopogaas
Perhaps the most memorable addition is the mighty James Earl Jones as Umslopogaas, a formidable warrior chief who joins the quest, wielding a massive axe and possessing a booming laugh that could shake coconuts from the trees. Jones brings an immediate gravitas (and, let's face it, instant cool factor) to the proceedings. His presence elevates the film whenever he's on screen, even if his character feels somewhat like a convenient plot device to get our heroes out of tight spots. It’s always a treat to see an actor of his stature lending his talents to this kind of Saturday matinee fare. Was he slumming it? Maybe. But he seemed to be having fun, and that counts for something.
### Retro Fun Facts and That VHS Vibe
Thinking back, these Cannon adventure flicks were staples of the video rental era. You’d see the slightly worn VHS box, maybe featuring Chamberlain looking determined, and think, "Close enough to Indy!" Lost City of Gold wasn't exactly a box office smash, pulling in under $4 million domestically – a far cry from the fortunes it depicted on screen. Critical reception at the time was, shall we say, unkind (it currently sits at a frosty 8% on Rotten Tomatoes).
But critical scorn often misses the point with films like this, especially viewed through the lens of nostalgia. It wasn't about groundbreaking cinema; it was about providing 99 minutes of escapism. Remember those underground river rapids sequences? Or the slightly goofy temple traps in the titular city? They might look ropey now, especially compared to modern CGI extravaganzas, but back then, watching on a fuzzy CRT screen, they were part of the fun. The film even reportedly faced some minor squabbles with the ratings board over its PG-level violence – a common battleground for action-adventure films of the era aiming for broad appeal. This was the kind of movie tailor-made for a weekend rental, enjoyed with popcorn and maybe a sibling arguing over who got the comfy spot on the couch.
### Final Thoughts: Fool's Gold or Hidden Gem?
Allan Quatermain and the Lost City of Gold is undeniably derivative, occasionally clumsy, and wears its budgetary constraints on its khaki sleeve. It suffers from pacing issues and special effects that haven't aged like fine wine. However, it possesses a certain unpretentious charm, fueled by game performances and the sheer ambition of trying to replicate blockbuster magic on a tighter budget. It’s a quintessential piece of 80s Cannon output – perhaps not top-tier, but undeniably theirs.
Rating: 4/10
The score reflects the film's objective shortcomings – the weak script, iffy effects, and general feeling of being a second-rate imitation. However, the review highlights the nostalgic charm, the fun B-movie vibe, and the earnest performances (especially Jones), which prevent it from being a complete disaster. It earns points for being an artifact of its time and for providing unintentional amusement alongside its intended adventure.
For those of us who haunted video stores, Allan Quatermain and the Lost City of Gold is like finding a familiar, slightly dusty cassette in the attic – maybe not a masterpiece, but a comforting echo of simpler cinematic adventures. It's a trip back to a time when 'more of the same' often felt like exactly what we wanted for a Saturday afternoon.