Evil corporate types befoul a village in Colombia with pollutants from their "concrete plant"
(I think they mean cement plant) which causes a monster head to grow in the local lake. They send a troubleshooter down there and there's this lady reporter and...you know what just forget it. I don't want to get you all excited about that stuff.

hey cool
So bad you'll trip a little
but YUCK
Oh, let's arbitrarily select the monstroid itself

Whaaat a woman chopper pilot?! They loved that gag in the 70s when guys were still shocked by the women's lib. That's as far as it goes here though; for the most part this is the sort of movie that calls its secretary "sweetie" and thinks she needs a good hard pat on the ass once in a while, as the female characters are all fawning and fighting over this old playboy mid-life crisis guy. Shocking to us now but people in the 70s didn't find characters like him unbearably loathsome. Y'all young women who weren't around back then (I pretend girls read these) need to thank your bra-burning grandmas that you don't have to live in the world depicted by this motion picture.

Wow. They don't make 'em like this anymore shipmates. I think drive-ins were responsible. They didn't seem to care what was actually playing on the screen, so you could just point your camera at some random crap and give John Carradine a dollar to stand in a few shots and the drive-ins would buy it I guess. I don't know how else to explain something like this. In all honesty this makes Crater Lake Monster seem like...does it have to be Citizen Kane all the time? I didn't even like Citizen Kane; let's say the Tom Baker of lake monster movies.

This thing is so godawful that it defeated my brain's ability to view it as a connected series of scenes, and it all unravelled into a mass of random short films about: guys pulling up in a car, kids looking at some rubber floating on a lake, a cop and some chick stealing a helicopter from two guys in orange jump suits, a guy swimming with his clothes on and grabbing at something, a blowhard corporate boss threatening to stop advertising cement on network television, and a bunch of other nonsense the picture was too dark to see.

Tell you what though, this kind of movie does have a certain unique something. It's not a good thing, but it makes you feel like you're watching it in a cheap motel a long time ago, in some place like Elko Nevada. And maybe you just got out of the army, or thrown out by your ex, and you're heading to Portland on the bus to stay with some people who said you could crash on their couch until you found a job. And maybe you've got a couple beers and a sack of uncooked burritos from the convenience store and you're kind of sad and worried about how things are going to go, and you just don't want the quiet of that motel room so you leave this movie on. I'm not even kidding; it'll take you there.

Did I mention it's a true story? The credits tell us twice and no mistake. I guess there really was a cement plant in Colombia. At the end we're also told that the movie is now a novel by Carousel Books, so there's a fun ebay project for y'all.