Orson Welles is as unbearable as ever in his later films, fat and extremely unsympathetic, George Segal is no more than an adventurous playboy here, teaming with Ursula Andress, who is as superficially sexy as usual. There are many crooks, and the one good humour is presented by Harry Andrews, who actually bestows on the film its only particle of zest in his perpetual anger, and his is the main spectacular player of the film - an ostrich. The ostrich is a welcome contrast to all the human greed and barbarity of the film, where all the actors try to desperately excel each other in vicious brutality, and this ostrich will make you laugh for a change. What really makes the film worth watching though is all the wildlife sequences with all the wild animals of Africa parading and even reaching a dramatic climax of the film by their stampede. It's a very superficial film, the dialog is not very intelligent, Orson Welles is in it only for the money, and although made on a story by Jules Verne, you can't find Jules Verne anywhere in it. It's all just an effort at a spectacular entertainment, with very little humanity.
Review of The Southern Star
