Some horror films ask big questions. The Exorcist asks, “What if evil itself lived inside a child?” The Shining asks, “Can isolation turn a man into a monster?” Shakma asks, “What if a baboon got pissed off during a Dungeons & Dragons session in a med school basement?” It’s the kind of premise that makes you wonder how many substances were on the table when someone greenlit it.
The year was 1990, and horror was already on shaky ground. Freddy was getting quippy, Jason was being sent to hell, and Stephen King adaptations were multiplying like mold on Wonder Bread. Into this mix came Shakma, a movie that proves you can, in fact, weaponize a primate against an audience’s willpower to stay awake. It’s less a horror film and more a test of endurance—a cinematic obstacle course where the final boss is boredom, occasionally interrupted by a screaming monkey.
Roddy McDowall, What Are You Doing Here?
The first tragedy of Shakma isn’t the body count. It’s the sight of Roddy McDowall, one of cinema’s most beloved genre actors, slumming it in a role that could be replaced by a malfunctioning intercom. Here he plays Professor Sorensen, a man so intelligent he disables the fire alarms and locks everyone inside a building for a live-action role-playing game—because nothing says “safety first” like turning OSHA violations into a weekend hobby.
McDowall’s character exists solely to look condescending, give dumb instructions, and eventually become baboon chow. His death is treated like a tragic turning point, but honestly, it feels more like an act of mercy. You half-expect his corpse to roll its eyes on the way down.
The Plot: Dungeons, Dragons, and Dead College Kids
The setup is something Ed Wood would have rejected for being too implausible. A group of medical students—who, judging by their acting skills, should not be trusted with a stethoscope—decide to play a fantasy role-playing game in a locked research building. Instead of, I don’t know, going to a bar like normal people, they choose to LARP in fluorescent-lit hallways while Roddy McDowall gives them instructions over walkie-talkies.
Unfortunately for them, Shakma the baboon has been juiced up with experimental aggression drugs and is now loose in the building. If this sounds like it could be fun, trust me—it’s not. Most of the movie consists of people opening doors, closing doors, running down hallways, and then getting killed in a manner that looks suspiciously like the baboon accidentally bumped into them.
Shakma: Simultaneously the Star and the Victim
Let’s give credit where credit is due: the baboon, Typhoon (yes, that’s his real name), gives the best performance in the movie. Which is saying something, because it’s clear he has no idea what’s going on. Typhoon spends most of the film screeching, pounding on doors, and generally looking annoyed to be there—which, coincidentally, is also what the audience is doing.
The problem is, Shakma is too real. Most horror movies use animatronics, puppets, or at least some trained choreography. Here, it looks like they just let an actual baboon loose on set and prayed the actors could outrun him. The result is unsettling—not because it’s scary, but because it feels like someone should have called animal control.
Characters You Won’t Miss
Christopher Atkins, who once charmed audiences in The Blue Lagoon, plays Sam, our protagonist, and manages to make you root for the baboon. Sam is the kind of guy who’s told, “Hey, put this raging animal down before it kills someone,” and responds, “Nah, I’ll just leave it unconscious.” Spoiler: this plan doesn’t work out.
Amanda Wyss (A Nightmare on Elm Street) shows up as Tracy, whose job is to scream, run, and die in a bathroom. Ari Meyers plays Kim, who exists to wander around looking confused until she’s inevitably monkey chow. And then there’s Gary, Bradley, Richard… honestly, it doesn’t matter. They’re interchangeable cardboard cutouts, like a horror movie starter pack you’d buy at Spirit Halloween.
Death by Door, Hallway, and Poor Decisions
The kills in Shakma are spectacularly dull. One guy gets mauled in a specimen room. Another gets torn apart in an elevator. Someone else is taken out in a restroom. The real horror isn’t the blood—it’s the repetition. Every death plays out the same way: person hears baboon, person looks scared, baboon screeches, baboon jumps, person dies. Repeat until credits roll.
By the third kill, you start rooting for Shakma not out of fear, but out of a desire to end the movie sooner. By the fifth kill, you’re wondering if the baboon gets a SAG card. By the seventh, you’re hoping he unionizes.
The Big Finale: Man vs. Monkey
The climax pits Sam against Shakma in a showdown that’s less King Kong and more Tom and Jerry. Sam rigs up an electrified trap that Shakma manages to avoid, because apparently even drugged baboons know better than to touch live wires. Eventually, Sam lures Shakma into an incinerator, because when you’re out of ideas, just burn it all down.
Sam dies from his injuries, but not before declaring “I win” to a monkey doll. This is supposed to be poignant. Instead, it plays like the confession of a man who just lost a two-hour staring contest with a primate and is trying to save face.
Cult Status: The Stockholm Syndrome of Horror Fans
Somehow, Shakma has gained a small cult following, the kind of people who watch bad movies ironically and then convince themselves they enjoyed it. It’s been championed at midnight screenings and mocked on YouTube review channels, which is about the highest honor a movie like this can aspire to.
But make no mistake: this isn’t a “so bad it’s good” masterpiece. It’s just bad. The pacing is glacial, the acting is wooden, and the script feels like it was written on cocktail napkins during a very long layover. If you watch this movie with friends, you’ll have fun—but not because of the film. You’ll have fun because misery loves company, and nothing bonds people like watching a baboon headbutt a locked door for ten minutes straight.
Final Thoughts: Shakma the Sleep Aid
At the end of the day, Shakma is less a horror movie and more a bizarre endurance test. It’s got all the ingredients for cult nonsense—a rampaging baboon, Roddy McDowall cashing a paycheck, live-action role-playing gone wrong—but none of the energy. The scares are limp, the story is nonsense, and the editing makes you wonder if they lost half the footage and decided to just stretch what was left.
If you’ve ever wanted to see what happens when a monkey accidentally wanders into a college LARP session, congratulations: you’re the target audience. For the rest of us, Shakma is a reminder that not every animal deserves its own horror film. Sometimes, a baboon is just a baboon—and sometimes, a bad movie is just a bad movie.
