On vacation one occasionally finds one�s self doing things one would never do at home. I guess that�s how Kat and I found ourselves channel surfing on a sunny afternoon in a hotel room in Washington, D.C. after we had been thoroughly worn out while sightseeing. As we channel surfed, things rapidly went from unlikely to improbable.

We found ourselves watching a bunch of people in bad western outfits screaming and running to a church. The camera lingered particularly long on a woman in bad hair and a gold shirt with fringe on it. James Franciscus, whom I wrongly identified as James Farentino (but I digress) picked up his rifle. �Oh,� I said to Kat as I settled in to share a pleasure I had shared with my mother. �It�s a western. I�ve watched lots of those.�

�That�s nice,� said Kat. �But what�s roaring?� Suddenly, Godzilla�s little brother appeared. Apparently, those running for the Spanish mission were trying to trap the giant lizrd in the church. Perhaps they thought Jesus might care for him. We weren�t sure because in the twenty minutes we watched, we heard only two lines: �Look out, Lope!� and �I�ll try and lock him in.� This movie clearly was not high-budget. They couldn�t afford dialogue.

For a time, it appeared that Godzilla�s little brother was smarter than the people�at least until the organ interrupted his concentration. Apparently, giant lizards hate bad organ playing, especially when some cowboy is playing the instrument with his rear end. The music so deteriorated his mental abilities that he did not know what to do when the cute James guy threw a torch at him. Either that or Godzilla�s little brother had never encountered fire before. Instead of playing Jack-be-nimble, he tried to eat the railing. The movie ended with a burnt offering�lizard.

As the movie ended, Kat and I assumed that we�d learn its name.* Wrong! They listed the actors, including Gwangi (who either played or was Godzilla�s little brother), but not the title. Some guy did tell us the movie was a classic and that a horse named the Brave One did all his own stunts.

Never people to be deterred by a lack of information, Kat and I have our own name ofr the movie. We call it �Gwangi Goes East.� We originally were going to call it �Gwangi Goes West� but then Kat�s superior map skills kicked in and she pointed out that California is east of Japan.

Whatever it is called, watch out. If you ever see Gwangi coming to a screen near you, RUN.

* After I wrote this piece in Washington and before I posted this morning, I learned the movie was called �The Valley of Gwangi.� Even under this title, the movie is bad.

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