My dear readers, though my professional life is a distinctly indoor affair, I I have always felt a strange kinship towards adventurers and treasure seekers. For some time I have been in the possession of a map that leads to the long forgotten Ivory Court of the Winter Prince, a site reputed to be overflowing with riches. My professional labors leave me little time for traveling abroad but for a modest sum I secured the services of professionals who were able to mount the expedition in my stead. Sadly, the venture proved to be somewhat ill-fated and almost all of those admirable chaps perished most terribly. The few returning members informed me that simply because the Ivory Hall was long forgotten did not mean it had ever been vacated and that the Winter Prince was not the least bit amused by the sight of a dozen hirsute looters waltzing right into his abode.

Greg Oliver (Sam Bottoms) knows the practical realities of the treasure hunting business all too well. He and his captain Earl Sullivan (Virgil Frye) run a charter service, taking customers out to hunt for lost loot off the coast of Maui. These experienced seafarers know that your average fellow left to his own devices isn’t likely to find much of anything and so, not wanting to spoil the shining optimism of the island’s tourist class, they are good enough to litter the ocean floor with trinkets so that their customers don’t find the outings to be at all disappointing.

For some reason these harmless little excursions have incited the ire of luxury resort manager Oscar Forbes (Kedric Wolfe), who has seen to it that Greg and Earl are banned from premises he oversees. And so when the hotel’s sea-bathing guests are suddenly exposed to large quantities of entrails, shark heads and the odd severed limb, Oscar assumes that Greg and Earl are the culprits. None of them suspect that the responsible party is actually an oversized prehistoric fish, unleashed from centuries of dormancy by an underwater earthquake. Though it is initially satisfied with marine prey, the creature decides to have a bit of a nibble on some of the less local folks and the subsequent fatalities start to make Maui seem like a less-than-desirable vacation destination. Once its existence becomes undeniable, everyone decides to put away their differences and unite in an attempt to vanquish the beast.

Thanks to the raging financial success of one Steven Spielberg and his malfunctioning robotic shark, the cinematic seas of the late 1970s and early 1980s were positively overflowing with aquatic monstrosities. Some viewers will undoubtedly view Up From The Depths as one of the more light-hearted attempts at emulating Mr. Spielberg’s success and certainly the film does make use of classic comedic tropes like humorous displays of ineptitude and ethnic stereotypes. But all the film’s antics and hijinks mask a more sinister message -- that people who find each other objectionable are able to serve a common goal so long as it involves murdering a unique specimen to save a tourist resort. Director Charles B. Griffith turns what might have been an exploitative imitation into a painful meditation on the regrettable causes that can unite disparate groups. Viewed in this manner, the creature’s scant screen time is not so much a product of inadequate funding but rather a reflection of the fact that mankind is the film’s most arresting villain. While there is certainly no harm in a little chuckle here and there, it would be a grave mistake to ignore Mr. Griffith’s deeply thoughtful approach to his subject matter.

Up From The Depths runs 85 minutes and is rated R.