My dear readers, while I have the utmost respect for individuals who have worked to achieve a high level of status in their chosen profession, such positions can lead to a bit of closed-mindedness when it comes to addressing the concerns of laypeople. I recall my great aunt Lucinda Hauntedhouse found herself in disagreement with local medical authorities when she tried to convince them that her husband was not deceased, despite their findings to the contrary. The fellows who she found herself at odds with had all sorts of credentials and what have you, and demonstrated very little interest in rethinking their initial diagnosis. And so not one of them listened to dear old Lucinda’s suggestion that his coffin lid be weighted with rocks before he was entombed. Those same gentlemen suddenly became quite attentive when her husband disappeared from the cemetery along with half a dozen other recently interred corpses. But Lucinda refused to speculate on her betrothed’s do-it-yourself approach to disinterment or his designs on the other six bodies, having apparently had her fill of conversing with those considered to be in charge.

Civil Aeronautical Engineer Mitch MacAfee (Jeff Morrow) knows all about the difficulties of dealing with skeptic authority figures. The man is out on a routine test flight when he spots a fantastical stratospheric specimen, one that he describes as a sort of battleship in the sky. No one is able to confirm the existence of any such craft and none of Mitch’s superiors are particularly pleased when a military plane vanishes entirely while investigating his fantastical claims. The “top brass” assumes that Mr. MacAfee is the perpetrator of a highly distasteful jest and nothing can diminish their stony lack of amusement, not even a civilian who claims to have seen a French-Canadian folk creature in roughly the same locale.

Fortunately, a rational man of science trots in, laying to rest all of these pedestrian interpretations of the events thus far. This strange sighting is not a giant ship, nor is it a mythical beast, and I imagine all these panic-stricken observers would laugh aloud at their folly when presented with the simple facts -- what they have witnessed is actually an avian extraterrestrial, hailing from a distant galaxy made of antimatter and while the creature itself is simply composed of regular old matter, it is cloaked in an impenetrable antimatter field. This rather obvious explanation makes it clear that beast cannot be dispatched by the regular means and fellows used to resolving their problems with missiles and manpower are left to scratch their heads over how to sort the whole matter out.

In spite of its ample charms, some of my peers in the critical business have been unkind to The Giant Claw and though sixty years have passed since its initial release, there has been little effort spent on reassessing its worth. Those who disparage this fine film seem a bit hung up on the appearance of the creature itself, which some apparently find unsatisfactory. These detractors feel their position is naturally buoyed by director Fred F. Sears’ admission that he was unable to secure the services of stop-motion master Ray Harryhausen and instead sought out the talents of an unnamed Mexican effects technician with a penchant for puppetry. I hope you will forgive me, my patient readers, if I seem a little huffy over a marionette’s reception but I hardly see how earthlings can be so cocksure about the appearance of alien life. Humanity has not had extensive contact with species native to other planets and for all we know, the creature’s somewhat gawky manner and mechanical articulation could be a completely accurate representation of an otherworldly being. While I have no doubt that Mr. Harryhausen would have done a wonderful job, it seems frightfully unfair to dismiss this entirely plausible intergalactic buzzard.

The Giant Claw runs 75 minutes and is certified “approved.”