By Film Archeology Desk
If you stumbled upon a dusty DVD or a late-night cable listing for Homo Erectus (2007), you might have expected a National Geographic-style docudrama. Instead, you found National Lampoon’s Homo Erectus —a film so obscure that even Wikipedia seems unsure whether to classify it as a comedy, a tragedy, or a tax write-off. The film stars Adam Rifkin (who also wrote and directed) as Ishbo , a prehistoric everyman living in the uncivilized world of 2 million BC. Unlike his brutish, grunting peers who are content with clubbing seals and dragging women by the hair, Ishbo is a sensitive, intellectual proto-hippie. He dreams of art, poetry, and—much to the tribe’s confusion—monogamy. Homo Erectus Movie 2007
For everyone else: stick with Quest for Fire . This is one evolutionary dead end you can safely skip. By Film Archeology Desk If you stumbled upon
The film was shot in 2006 and dumped onto DVD in January 2007—traditionally a graveyard month for movies the studios have no faith in. It received a tiny theatrical release in a handful of drive-ins under the alternative title Uggly , before being rebranded as National Lampoon’s Homo Erectus for video stores. Unlike his brutish, grunting peers who are content
1 out of 5 fossilized footprints. Watch only with friends and alcohol.
Critics were not kind. Variety called it “a one-joke premise stretched thinner than Ishbo’s leather diaper.” The AV Club gave it a rare “F,” noting that “watching Homo Erectus is like being clubbed over the head with ‘evolve already’—for 87 minutes.” Rotten Tomatoes currently lists it at (yes, zero) from top critics, with the consensus: “A prehistoric stinker.” The Legacy: A Cult Fossil? Is Homo Erectus (2007) a lost masterpiece? Absolutely not. But is it a fascinating artifact of a particular type of indie-studio comedy that no longer exists? Yes.
In the sprawling landscape of mid-2000s comedy, certain relics are buried deeper than others. One such fossil is the 2007 film Homo Erectus , a title that promises anthropological insight but delivers exactly the opposite: a barrage of flatulence jokes, anachronistic philosophizing, and Adam Rifkin in a loincloth.