When the wrecked car is found covered in blood, the authorities find no other trace of the bodies -- he typed ominously. Trying to find the owner, the car's registration leads the State Police to nearby Ludlow, where they make an even more startling discovery: the entire town has been leveled to the ground! But once again, after searching through the wreckage, there are no bodies to be found anywhere. This proves a little too weird for the local authorities, so the National Guard is brought in to investigate what appears to be some kind of natural disaster. Setting up camp in the neighboring town of Paxton, they cordon off what's left of Ludlow until some answers can be found as to what happened to its 150 residents ... Enter intrepid reporter, Audrey Aimes (Peggy Castle), stage left -- erk, make that highway left. On her way to cover a different story, she becomes intrigued when she can’t get any straight answers as to what’s beyond the military roadblock. Heading on into Paxton, the reporter is stonewalled further by Col. Sturgeon (Thomas Henry Browne -- who is not Morris Ankrum), who will confirm nor deny anything. 

Playing a hunch, Aimes calls her editor to see if there are any atomic installations in the area. (Remember, this is the 1950's and radiation took the blame for damn near everything.) But the only thing even remotely close to what she's suggesting is a Department of Agriculture research lab. It's probably a dead-end, but Aimes investigates her only lead, and, while visiting the lab, she meets our square-jawed hero, Dr. Ed Wainwright (Peter Graves), and his partner, Dr. Frank Johnson (Than Wyenn), who has been rendered deaf and mute by an accidental dose of radiation. Obviously, judging by the embarrassing floor show that follows, these two don't get many visitors, but they do go on to explain that their experiments involve the use of radiation to speed up the photosynthesis process, resulting in giant mutations. (Tomatoes the size of basketballs etc.) Though impressed with their massive end-results, Aimes is curiously concerned about any possible side-effects. But Wainwright assures that they've had no problems -- except for some bugs, especially the locusts, who kept eating their experiments. Oh, and then there was that little problem with the storage bins for the mutant grain: seems they inexplicably collapsed, and all their irradiated contents disappeared under mysterious circumstances (-- but I'm sure it's nothing).

Returning to Paxton, after promising to hold her story until the mystery is solved, Aimes is finally allowed to go into Ludlow and is shocked by what she sees: the town is beyond devastated; it's been completely torn asunder and flattened. Putting two and two together (-- she’s a crack reporter, remember), Aimes decides to visit the destroyed grain bins for a little compare and contrast. (Dang she’s good.) Going back to the institute for directions, the doctors decide to tag along. Turns out the storage bins are in even worse shape than Ludlow, and while Wainwright and Aimes get to know one another, poor Dr. Frank discovers what’s been causing all the trouble -- and then promptly gets eaten by it at the same time! For it seems that after eating all the irradiated grain, Dr. Wainwright's harmless locusts aren't quite so harmless after all...

Friends, video-philes, and my loyal B-movie Brethren, lend me your ears. For I have come not to bury Bert I. Gordon, but to praise him ... Weeellll praise might be too strong of a word. Yeah, yeah, I know, this whole movie is just one big, cheapjack knock-off of THEM!, right? Well, yeah -- ya got me there. However, I think it is high time we take a step back, inhale deeply, and stop skewering his films because of the cut and paste matte-shots of real bugs crawling over picture postcards of famous locales to make them look ginormous. Let us try to forgive the use of iguanas and gators for dinosaurs, locked in bloody gladiatorial combat for cinematic eternity, and cut the guy a little slack. 

There. Now don't you feel better?

His films, while not epics, are nowhere near as bad as their dubious reputations. I mean, really, you bought/rented a movie about giant mutant grasshoppers invading Chicago -- What did you expect? And I can think of plenty of other films in the genre that are much worse than this, like ... uhm, like, uh -- gimme a second! Like King Dinosaur.

... What?

That was him? 

Uhm … god #*@% it, I LIKED TORMENTED! *sigh*

Barely escaping the deadly swarm, and after relating their fantastic tale to Sturgeon, Wainwright's claims of giant killer bugs are met with much skepticism. Luckily, through persistence, the survivors manage to at least convince the Colonel to investigate the wrecked storage site. Ordering Captain Barton (James Seay -- who is still not Morris Ankrum) and a squad of infantry to go with Wainwright back to the scene of the alleged attack, upon reaching the site, all seems quiet -- too quiet, but not for long! For suddenly, from out of nowhere, the locust start screeching at deafening levels and then attack! Then and thus, the crack-squad that thought it was on a snipe-hunt now finds themselves in a nasty firefight. Hopelessly outnumbered and on the verge of being overwhelmed and wiped-out, they beat a hasty retreat back to Paxton for some reinforcements. And while Sturgeon quickly mobilizes his entire unit for the Battle of Paxton, Wainwright tries to warn him that there are too many giant locusts and they won’t stand a chance unless the regular army is called in. (He can tell by the levels of chirping that the swarm has to be pretty big.)

To accomplish that we get an obligatory trip to Washington DC, where Wainwright pleads his case in front of a committee run by General Hanson (Morris Ankrum -- FINALLY! He’ll fix this.) But once again, the big brass doesn’t understand the magnitude of the threat until they receive word that Paxton has been overrun and destroyed by the locust swarm. With that, Hanson takes command (-- thank god), and appoints Wainwright as his special advisor on giant mutant bugs and how to properly squash them.

But even though the army is mobilized and engages the enemy with everything they've got -- tanks, artillery, and napalm -- they have little effect in slowing the swarm down as it closes in on Chicago. Insecticides and smoke don’t have any effect, either; and after a rousing battle sequence between the GI’s and the giant bugs, the locusts breach the lines and are soon pouring into the Windy City's suburbs. With no other alternative, Hanson authorizes the use of an A-bomb to neutralize the threat. Thinking that action is a little too drastic, Wainwright, with a little help from Aimes, hits upon the idea to reproduce the bug’s mating call, and then lure them all into Lake Michigan to drown them. All he needs is an oscillator, some copper wire, a loud speaker -- and one live giant grasshopper!

Hanson provides him everything he needs -- including a captured bug, but won’t postpone the bomb drop, leaving them only a few precious hours to try and mimic the mating call. And while Wainwright tinkers with the oscillator, Barton breaks another B-movie Cardinal Sin by waxing nostalgic about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; and then we really glean he’s walking piece of bug-chow when he mentions his wife and kids for no real reason, and how he can’t wait to get back to them. So it's no surprise, really, when Wainwright finally hits upon the right frequency that the captured bugs goes berserk and kills Barton. (The poor sap.)

Despite this tragedy, with the experiment a success, the bomb drop is successfully aborted in time. (And the sharp eye will spot Kirk Alyn, the original Superman, piloting the plane.) By now, though, the locusts are so spread out over the city they must first lure them to Wainwright's lab, and then into the lake. Remaining at the lab, once Hanson takes up position with more sound equipment out on the water, Wainwright tells Aimes to flip the switch. And as the signal is broadcasted all over the city, we’re then treated to several scenic postcards of Chicago being overrun by the locust swarm. Drawn along by the fake mating call, closer and closer they come, and things start to get a little hairy when a picture of the lab is about to be swarmed under before the signal is switched to Hanson's boat. Then, in the grips of a sexually-charged hysteria, the locusts plow into the lake and dry-hump each other until they all drown -- much to Hanson’s delight.

Over the years, I've always enjoyed Bert I. Gordon's films and eventually came to simply appreciate them for what they were and for what they were not. What they have is an old, pulp-novel noir thing going for them. No frills, acceptable special-effects for the era they were made, and a straight forward story barreling toward the climax -- with Albert Glasser’s John Phillip Sousa-inspired riffs blaring and making our ears bleed the whole way! What they don't have is a lot of padding, nonsensical stock-footage abuse, or the usual bait-n-switch involved with these types of films, meaning you usually got what you paid to see.