Britsploitation from A-Z: K is for Konga (1961)

23 Aug

You may very well have seen the title of this film and the poster to the right there and thought ‘Oh no, a crappy King Kong rip-off’. Well, you’re not entirely wrong – Konga is about a large ape and the end does feature said simian going on the rampage and laying waste to a great city – although it’s not so much laying waste as stumbling about a bit and bumping into things and the city in question is actually Croydon pretending to be central London. However, for the most part Konga isn’t very much like that other ape film at all, instead happily ploughing its own demented furrow.

The film’s director is one John Lemont, who doesn’t seem to have done much else of interest. For the true guiding spirit of the movie we must look to producer and co-screenwriter (with regular partner Aben Kandel) Herman Cohen, who had previously given the world I Was a Teenage Werewolf and its various follow-ups and, working in the UK, Horrors of the Black Museum, a film for which the word ‘lurid’ could have been invented. Konga has many of the Cohen trademarks, including absurd dialogue and a thoroughly lame attempt at portraying youth culture of the period, while the odd homoerotic relationship usually present between a middle-aged mad scientist type and a hapless teenager is here replaced by an even odder interspecies relationship between a middle-aged mad scientist type and a primate.

The mad scientist in question is botanist Dr Charles Decker, played by Cohen regular Michael Gough (Alfred the butler in the Tim Burton Batman films to those not so deeply initiated in this kind of thing) in his inimitably overripe style. He was stranded with a mysterious African tribe after a plane crash but has now returned to the UK, and his post at the prestigious Essex College, accompanied by a very cute baby chimp called Konga. He’s also brought back the tribe’s arcane knowledge of a mysterious link between plant and animal life, and sets to work to apply it, tearing all the pretty flowers out of their beds in his greenhouse to make way for his new experiments. This causes much consternation for his housekeeper, secretary and assistant (as she is always long-windedly referred to throughout) Margaret (played by Margo Johns, who has the appearance and general demeanour of a 1950s children’s TV presenter). Margaret’s also Decker’s lover and straight away is jealous of the new addition to the family – ‘You didn’t ask once how I felt – Konga came first!’ Yes, Decker’s relationship with his new pet seems rather closer than it probably should be – ‘Please leave, I want to be alone with Konga’ he demands at one point, and later on breathes heavily ‘We know each other much better than the world suspects’ at the caged ape.

But it’s not just Margaret who’s been thrown over in favour of Konga. ‘You’ve neglected Tabby shamefully’ she chides when the cat comes to the greenhouse in search of food. And to prove his lack of concern Decker wastes no time in whipping out a gun and shooting the poor animal when it starts lapping at his special formula. ‘Even those few drops might have made Tabby swell up to huge proportions!’ he shrieks in the face of Margaret’s protests. Poor Tabby.

Before long the greenhouse is heaving with sinister carnivorous plants, the most alarming being a number of specimens that look exactly like enormous black, veiny penises with forked tongues. Pleased with these results (and who wouldn’t be?), Decker administers his growth serum to little Konga who, by the magic of a wobbly camera effect grows larger each time until he eventually evolves into a man in a highly unconvincing gorilla suit. When Essex College’s fusty old dean expresses scepticism about Decker’s theories the doctor sends Konga after him. Trying to justify the killing to a horrified Margaret Decker claims that ‘I would have been forced to kill someone through Konga, just to prove my experiment was right!’ Despite it making no sense whatsoever she seems quite happy with this explanation, but nonetheless blackmails Decker into making her his wife rather than his housekeeper, secretary and assistant (unfortunately she’s upstaged in her big dramatic moment by the giant black penises sticking their tongues out over her shoulder). But Decker doesn’t want to go through with it just yet: ‘In the eyes of the world you are still my housekeeper, secretary and assistant’.

By this time Decker and Konga have acquired a taste for blood (as well as a special van which Decker drives Konga to his victim’s houses in). Next on the hitlist is Professor Tagore (all-purpose rent-a-foreigner George Pastell, playing an Indian complete with turban this time), who has rudely pre-empted all of Decker’s work (except for the killer gorillachimp bit).

Decker doesn’t only have eyes for Konga – his head’s also been turned by one of his students, the enormous-chested Sandra (Claire Gordon). But despite seemingly irresistible chat-up lines like ‘I can’t get over how much you’ve grown – and I of all people should understand growth’ she doesn’t seem all that interested in him. Decker’s attempts to seduce her during a field trip to look at mosses and ferns end up in a fist fight with her boyfriend Bob (pop singer Jess Conrad, looking rather cute in his sweatertastic early 60s fashions but giving a performance of awe-inspiring dreadfulness). Bob’s not the brightest of sparks – when Decker replies to his threats with ‘Leave her alone? How? She’s a student in my class’, poor Bob can only rejoin with ‘Don’t throw a load of questions at me! You’re trying to confuse me!’ It’s not long before poor simple Bob and his Vespa fall foul of the marauding Konga. His death leads to the film’s most blissfully ridiculous line as Margaret confronts Decker over the newspaper report at breakfast: ‘What are you having with your poached egg – murder?’

But Margaret’s old news: Decker plans to make Sandra his new assistant (and possibly secretary and housekeeper too). When jealous Margaret gets wind of this during a visit from Sandra to look at Decker’s big black penises, she lets Konga out of his cage, planning to set him on her faithless employer. Unfortunately (and illogically) her attempts at hypnotising the mangy beast simply result in him growing to enormous size, crashing through the roof and promptly squashing her. Confirming our suspicions that there was something dodgy going on between the two of them, Konga chooses the silver-haired doctor rather than the leggy blonde as his Fay Wray and heads off to destroy central Croydon – I mean London. The police swing into action – officers are helpfully informed that ‘There’s a huge monster gorilla that’s constantly growing to outlandish proportions loose in the streets!’ – and Konga is rather anticlimactically shot dead.

And there you have it – Konga, as enjoyable a piece of cinematic lunacy as you’re likely to find anywhere and a glittering gem of Britsploitation that’s nowhere near as well known as it should be. The only thing left to say is, dodgy plants and motheaten gorilla suits aside, just what an absolutely gorgeous-looking film Konga is. Photographed by veteran Desmond Dickinson in ‘Spectramation’ (whatever that might be) the colours practically glow, making Konga probably the handsomest phallic-plant and killer-chimp movie of 1961.

I promise you this film is even better than the trailer makes it look:


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