This movie had political correctness before that disease even had a name. But that's the least of this movie's problems. A dozen upper-class people congregate on the lawn of a Florida swamp villa, and all they can talk about is how annoyingly loud the toads are. They must be really bored - but not as bored as the viewer. This is a short movie, but it feels like a ten-hour experimental French film. The pace is excruciatingly slow, and I'm not talking about Judy Pace who is in this one. What we get here are apathetic, fat toads that look as threatening as a basket of Florida oranges. And it's not even the frogs who terrorize; the real killing work is done by lizards, snakes, and crocks, but who gets all the credit and glory? Frogs. Milland, as Mr.Grumpy, plays a ridiculous character who, even when faced with a catastrophe, finds the time to grumble about trivialities, and everyone around him has to take note of him because of the testament money. But at least he amuses the bored audience a bit. At the end of the movie Elliot says that "it's a long story"; very long, indeed, particularly when one considers that there isn't enough actual plot to even fill a 25-minute TV episode of any "Tales of the Something or Other" type of show. The only positive thing is the photography which is not bad considering how bad everything else is.