Rip van Winkle multiplied by 2,000. And the product (to use the proper mathematical term) is a God damned Neanderthal,' preserved in the ice for 40,000 years and revivified by an Arctic research team violently divided on what to do with him. The situation is engrossing from the start, despite a visual style that is often like a sharp stick poked in the eye, and despite a soundtrack in the "realistically" garbled mode. A taste for realism' muddles up other areas as well, and the movie on the whole takes itself rather too seriously; rather too religiously, even. There are nonetheless some scenes that play wonderfully well. For instance: the Neanderthal's first sight of his 20th-century descendants, when, isolated in a climate-controlled vivarium, he wrestles a sprinkler-head from the bottom of a pool and follows the hose to its other end. Or for another: the Neanderthal's first introduction to 20th-century music -- a young anthropologist's campfire rendition of a Neil Young song -- and his howling-dog accompaniment to it. With Timothy Hutton, Lindsay Crouse, and John Lone; directed by Fred Schepisi. (1984) — Duncan Shepherd
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