Though only 19 when this was made, I think that Johnny Sheffield was now becoming just a bit too old to carry off this most preposterous of "Bomba" tales. When he is spotted by a photographer swinging through the trees, the local Emir decides to have him killed as, basically, glorified vermin. Ever indestructible, our young lad is rescued, downriver, by the original Princess Leah (OK, slight spelling variation) whom it turns out is the daughter of the rightful Emir who had been unceremoniously overthrown. Needless to say, our chivalrous loincloth-clad Sheffield is up for helping her to reclaim her inheritance. As with the Weissmuller "Tarzan" films, this series has begun to run out of steam. The charm and innocence of earlier iterations have gone; the storylines have become angrier, and the underlying simplicity long since compromised by invasive weaponry and technology (even by 1950s standards). The writing isn't up to much here, either - and there is an annoying romantic sub-plot that bogs it down rather. They are still watchable little features, all of them, but this one - less so.
