Grizzly (1976) Embodies the Regional Charm of Low-Budget Filmmaking

Last weekend, Sara and I spent a couple nights in the perfect vacation spot: Clayton, Georgia! I’m kidding, of course, but only kinda. Traveling with a full itinerary of things to do and places to see can be enjoyable and memorable, but spending a short time in the middle of nowhere with even just a little bit of time to explore can be so lovely and relaxing. And this trip was exactly that (despite a pretty rough overnight thunderstorm on Saturday).

Back in December, when Sara told me that two of her friends were getting married at a little resort in Clayton, I did what I always do before visiting a random place I’ve never been: I pulled up Wikipedia to see if any films were shot in the area. And sure enough, I found an absolute jewel. Turns out we would be staying in the sleepy mountain region where the legendary independent creature feature Grizzly was shot.¹

I’m kidding again, but still only kinda. This film is not exactly a classic. It’s not even what most people would call “good,” honestly.² However! Grizzly actually was the most successful independent feature film of all time…for a little over two years.³ Whether or not you’ve seen Grizzly, it’s easy to understand what a feat it is that this film made $39 million in the U.S., even if it’s also easy to explain. Kentucky legend William Girdler and his producers simply struck gold by being the first production to capitalize on the Jaws fever that swept the nation just 11 months earlier.

But just like the town it was shot in and around, I think there’s something awfully charming about this film. And not just because I have quite an affinity for Jaws rip-offs.⁴ Because I love a film that’s shot on location.

Did the Grizzly screenwriters intend for their story to be set in North Georgia? Not exactly. According to trash film guru Joe Bob Briggs—my top source when it comes to films of this caliber—the original intention was to shoot the film on location in the Pacific Northwest, since, you know, they have actual grizzly bears up that way. But Clayton was open for business around this time and recruiting as many feature film productions as they could after the success of Deliverance, which was shot in the same county.⁵

So Girdler and company took up their offer and settled on the Blue Ridge Mountains instead. And since there’s only one kind of bear that can be found in Georgia, they kept the title as well as the titular species. “Black Bear” just isn’t a title that strikes fear into the hearts of moviegoers, you know?⁶ (Don’t tell Aubrey Plaza I said that.)

After the scandalous content of Deliverance, I bet the local government was actually overjoyed about a simple bear attack movie being filmed in their town. But Girdler and his crew didn’t just utilize Clayton’s resources and support the local economy in return. They got the actual locals involved.

Sure, the film is anchored by three professional actors in Christopher George, Andrew Prine, and Richard Jaeckel (who play a trio that is remarkably similar to the central characters in Jaws). And yes, one Victoria Lynn Johnson—Penthouse magazine’s 1977 Pet of the Year—does make a brief appearance, mostly so she can get mauled by a hungry bear in a salacious waterfall scene. But many of Clayton’s community theatre players were cast in pretty good supporting parts, from the cynical restaurant owner to random victims of bear attacks.

None of the Georgia residents playing bit parts turn in any award-winning performances. But when it comes to a film that isn’t aiming for high art, regional flavor can go a long way. Girdler sacrificed realism for authenticity in this case, if that makes sense, and it made for a more entertaining film. And a more Georgia film, despite the ecological anomaly of a grizzly bear on the East Coast (which they at least attempt to explain in the film).

Speaking of that bear, I would be remiss if I didn’t shout out the real star of the show. In perhaps the only manner in which Grizzly is superior to Jaws, Girdler’s team used a real bear in many of the film’s best set pieces. Teddy (yes, that was the bear’s name) was actually a Kodiak bear, but he was over 11 feet tall, making him the largest bear in captivity in the U.S. at that time. Teddy was living in Washington, so he was flown cross-country to be in this film. (If you’re wondering where most of Grizzly’s $750,000 budget went, that’d be my guess.)

There are no statues of Teddy in the town of Clayton, though. I didn’t see any commemorative signs for Grizzly on Main Street either. But that’s alright. When I looked up at those mountains, I knew that I was walking along the trails of film history.⁷

Grizzly is now streaming on Amazon Prime, Tubi, and Hoopla, and it is available to rent elsewhere.

1. Old Yeller was also partially shot in Clayton, but I will not be writing at length about Old Yeller at this time.

2. I happen to enjoy the film myself. But after watching half of Grizzly with me, Sara said that it would be “truly a gift” to her if I finished it on my own. (For the record, I gave her the gift.)

3. Grizzly topped The Texas Chain Saw Massacre before it was eventually unseated by Halloween. Quite a legacy for a film that’s barely talked about half a century later.

4. See also: Orca, Alligator.

5. I wasn’t able to locate or confirm any of the Grizzly shooting locations during my trip, sadly. However, when I asked an employee at the Wander store about it, he did tell me that their shop used to have the last remaining canoe prop from “a certain other notorious film that was shot nearby” displayed out front. I hope someone’s taking good care of that canoe.

6. Black bears are also the only species found in Tennessee, but that didn’t stop my favorite NBA team from keeping their name when they relocated from Vancouver. Who says these things have to be logical?

7. The wedding was really nice too, by the way. The ceremony took place next to a waterfall. There weren’t any sexy ladies attacked by bears at that waterfall, though.