Let's say (if we must) that ever since World War II ended a gigantic Japanese named Kurusu, trained to kill with a samurai sword sharper than a bonded Wilkinson blade, has been terrorizing the Philippine jungles and plantations, thinking he is keeping the Emperor's honor alive. (Had not Kurusu's commander ordered him to atone for a drunken murder by staying behind to kill without ceasing as the Japanese army withdrew from the island?) Now let's say that Kurusu killed an American tobacco planter in 1954, and that in 1975 he kills the same man's son. And that the slain son's brother returns from the States especially to slay the amok (as the natives call this dreaded man whose sword can dismember a horse faster than the eye can follow, or almost), and that Kurusu's commander has also returned after all these years to rescind his final order and save the giant. Let's also say that we know that the American girl with the big boobs who is alone in the house, will, must inevitably be attacked by the monster as surely as Karloff needs his bride, and that we have all this as a premise and throw this jungle epic away and start over as Laurel and Hardy move a piano over a rope bridge in the jungle and midway above a horrible chasm meet a gorilla coming from the other side. . . .