To Catch a Yeti (1995): Sprat Out of Hell

The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Fight Club, Black Dog, Roadie – rock warbler Meat Loaf had a wealth of fine films to his credit. And then, as Dave discovers, there was this tedious family flick…

Setting aside the fact it’s complete and utter rot, TO CATCH A YETI offers a fascinating window into Meat Loaf’s career at a specific moment in time.

Since he’d lost his voice while attempting (and failing) to lay down a sequel to his iconic album Bat Out of Hell in the late ‘70s, the rocker had faced a drug issue and bankruptcy, and spent the tail end of the ‘80s playing any club with a microphone. As the ‘90s came around, Meat rekindled his partnership with The Greatest Songwriter Who Ever Lived™, Jim Steinman, and hit the studio to lay down the tracks for what would turn out to be Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell. By early ’93, however, such a sequel was an unknown quantity and had the devastating potential to become a hugely expensive failure. Obsessive perfectionist Steinman took the first half of the year to tweak the record within an inch of its life – and yet the lead single, twelve minute behemoth I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That), was slated to land that August.

For the Loaf, though, it was a waiting game; a make-or-break moment that would take his career in one of two directions. Fittingly, it’s this sort of pensive anticipation that’s etched onto the man born Marvin Lee Aday’s face, as he stands wistfully in the cold Toronto air, gazing into the eyes of a miniature yeti.

Indeed, To Catch a Yeti certainly poses a number of head-scratchers – not least what persuaded FX supremo and all-round good guy Bob Keen (Waxwork (1988), Nightbreed (1990)) to take this gig for his directorial debut. Nevertheless, the film is what it is, and we’re immediately introduced to Big Jake Grizzly (Meat Loaf): a renowned hunter, who, at the behest of millionaire Arnold Sturgeon (Mike Panton), has been tasked with capturing a small bigfoot to meet the bratty demands of his pretentious son, Wesley (Jeff Moser). Naturally, it all goes pear-shaped, and the cutesy primate smuggles aboard the luggage of a nearby hiker, and winds up in the family home of the Bristows. Thus begins a battle of good versus evil, with the Bristows set on releasing the creature into its own habitat, and Jake Grizzly hot on their heels for his own financial gain.

It’s quite the trip knowing that make-up FX supervisor Gary J. Tunnicliffe bounced from Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth (1992) and Candyman (1992) to this rubbish family flick, particularly as the film’s eponymous ‘showpiece’ is so poor and barely functional. Still, Tunnicliffe’s friendship with Keen was well-established and his shoddy work is no worse than the terrible performances from Jim Gordon, Leigh Lewis, and Rick Howland (as Grizzly’s unbearable sidekick). Elsewhere, Toronto impersonates New York, Ontario doubles for the Himalayas, and To Catch a Yeti masquerades as entertainment.

One of the most forgettable family films of its era, To Catch a Yeti premiered on Sky Movies in the U.K. at 8AM in May 1994, screened on the Disney Channel in the U.S. in January 1995, and briefly re-entered public consciousness when it featured in a RiffTrax episode in May 2015. Watching it now, there’s a sense that most people involved would probably prefer to forget the whole thing ever happened – except, perhaps, for the late Meat Loaf himself. His collaboration with Keen certainly left an impression on him: weeks after To Catch a Yeti wrapped, Meat Loaf hired Keen to apply his make-up in the video for I’d Do Anything for Love… Helmed by Michael Bay, the classic Beauty & The Beast inspired promo helped the singer’s comeback single become one of the biggest selling and most played tracks of 1993 and nudged him towards a Grammy Award for Best Rock Vocal Performance.

Maybe, then, the titular yeti here was a leprechaun all along and acted as a good luck charm…

Canada ● 1995 ● Family, Comedy, TVM ● 95mins

Meat Loaf, Chantellese Kent, Rick Howland, Jim Gordon ● Dir. Bob Keen ● Wri. Paul Adam, Lionel Shenken

Leave a comment