Blu-Ray Review: THE DEADLY SPAWN (1983)

Somewhere in a rural section of New Jersey, a couple of camping enthusiasts/possible life partners are shaken from their sleep by the sudden impact of an asteroid just a few hundred yards from their campsite. They go to investigate, and soon find themselves serving as an all-you-can-gnaw buffet for the meteorite's passengers: a bevy of space worms with multiple heads and more teeth than an Osmond family reunion. Needing a cool, damp place to rest, the Big Mama Worm lays down a slime trail toward a nearby house, slithering into the basement and settling down to a cosy life of popping out baby worms and messily devouring anyone who happens to come down looking for an extra jar of jam preserves.

Rightly considered one of the most ambitious micro-budget monster movies of its era (or any era, for that matter), The Deadly Spawn was a mainstay of video stores throughout the big-box VHS era. Produced by Ted A. Bohus and directed by Douglas McKeown (at least partially--more on that below), the movie was made on a truly paltry budget of about $25,000, yet boasts one of the most memorable and effective creatures ever to grace a video cover. And now Elite/MVD Entertainment has released a Blu-Ray edition of this essential slice of American indie-horror history, and graciously sent a copy to the Vicarage for review.


First, the movie itself--if you're a fan of cheesy sci-fi from the 80s, a celebrant of shoestring ingenuity and champion of the cinematic underdog such as the Duke and myself, then here is a movie tailor-made for your enjoyment. As the Mother Spawn grows larger, ickier, hungrier and ferociouser in the basement, a familial comedy of errors starts taking shape upstairs. The mother and father of the house are planning a long getaway of some sort, and have invited Aunt Millie and Uncle Herb to look after the kids while they're away. Because of their early planned departure time and Mom's conscientiousness about writing instructive notes before getting ready to leave, no one thinks it strange that neither parental unit is around when the rest of the house awakes--which is unfortunate, because they both have of course become Spawn-food in the interim.

On the fortunate side, though, is the fact that the orphaned-but-oblivious kids are uniquely well-suited to deal with the alien menace festering in their root cellar. Elder son Pete is an astronomy major just waiting for a radioactive bug bite to turn him into a superhero--nerdy, scrawny, but incredibly knowledgeable about all things to do with SCIENCE! His younger brother Frankie is a borderline autistic Monster Kid who enjoys wandering around the house in a devil cape and ape mask trying to scare Aunt Millie (and failing miserably). While Pete invites his school friends over for a study session and Pete talks to psychiatrist Uncle Herb to see if monster movies have warped his brain, a surprising number of expendable extras wander into the basement to be eaten by the Slimy Spawn.

Once Frankie discovers the toothy worm and its sperm-like spawnlings (gnawing on his mother's disembodied head! A circumstance which distresses him less than one would imagine), things get turned up to eleven--Spawn Babiez spread out in the neighborhood, attacking a vegan lunch party (seriously) and devouring Uncle Herb. Can Pete, Frankie, and the rest of the Mystery Incorporated gang find a way to defeat the Deadly Spawn before the neighborhood, and presumably the planet, becomes a bloody buffet?

The Deadly Spawn is a lot of fun, and all the more impressive due to its miniscule budget. Clearly a labor of love for all involved, it has that idealism and enthusiasm that I love so much, and that is sorely missing from many of the low-budget efforts of our era. And the creature effects by John Dods (who also did the effects for Don Dohler's immensely entertaining Nightbeast (1982)--a movie I've been meaning to review for ages!) are simply fantastic. Sure, there are some technical shortcomings and the expected sliding-scale acting, but it sets out to give the audience an icky fun time, and in that it more than succeeds.

As to the Blu-Ray presentation by Elite/MVD...well, I wish it were a little better. Whether due to the transfer or to the state of the source materials available, the picture here is somewhat less than hi-def. An improvement over a washed out VHS, sure, but just barely. There's a good amount of bonus materials. The commentary by Bohus and editor Marc Harwood is a hoot, as the two men clearly enjoy one another's company and love reminiscing about the film. We hear about technical triumphs, scheduling snafus, and tensions between McKeown and Dods which eventually led to McKeown's departure from the project and Dods stepping in as director. There's a gag reel, casing footage, trailer, TV spots, and more--more than enough for any Spawn fanatic.

In short, it's a great indie monster movie and worth adding to your collection, if you don't already have the DVD or are the sort of movie fan who just *has* to have everything on Blu-Ray.

Movie: 2.5 Thumbs
Disc: 2 thumbs

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TerrorVision (1986): or, Quite the Dish

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 23!

In the days when "satellite TV" meant having a dish the size of a bisected Volkswagen in your backyard and access to NASA-level array-control technology, Stanley Putterman (the inimitable Gerrit Graham, "Bud the CHUD" and The Phantom of the Paradise's Beef himself ) installs a "Do-It-Yourself 100" dish in the hopes of opening a new world of entertainment possibilities. This meets with the approval of his wife Raquel (Mary Woronov of Eating Raoul, Silent Night Bloody Night, and Chopping Mall), daughter Suzy (Diane Franklin, of the superlatively MAD Amityville II: the Possession) and son Sherman (Chad Allen, Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman). Even military-minded Grandpa (Bert Remsen) is down, excited about the possibilities for monitoring enemy troop movements.

However, when a sanitation worker from Planet Pluton accidently beams a dangerous piece of garbage--a slavering, amorphous mutant called a "Hungry Monster"-- into the Puttermans' new dish, what started out as a nice night in front of the tube becomes a fight for survival and the future of the human race. As the monster crawls out of the boob tube to munch on its new hosts, the Puttermans' "swinging" guests, and Suzy's punkish boyfriend O.D. (Jon "I'm a Wolfman and I've Got Nards" Gries), Sherman makes desperate calls for help, first to the police and then to late-night horror hostess Medusa (Jennifer Richards). Meanwhile, O.D. and Suzy try to train the beast, which goes well until the Pluton Sanitation Department shows up to try and correct its error. Then things get a little messy...

Produced by Charles Band and directed by Full Moon Pictures-mainstay Ted Nicolaou, TerrorVision (1986) is an energetic, broad parody of everything 80s that, like many a fine cheese, has only grown more delicious as it ages. Viewers of a certain age will recognize a lot of the period piece details, from Raquel's Jazzercize obsession to Suzy's Cyndi Lauper fashions to Medusa's Elvira-esque show and costumery. Graham is hilarious as always (what an underrated performer this guy is), and Gries steals the show in a role that prefigures Bill and Ted by three years. The effects are goopy, practical, and disgusting, and the monster design is gross but strangely adorable. (In a standout scene, the monster uses its mimicking ability to morph several appendages into a slime-covered orgy involving the Puttermans, their guests, and even Grandpa! Must-see.) The music by Richard Band is as good as you'd expect.

TerrorVision is nothing but OTT fun from one end to the other. Even those born in the era of dinner plate-sized satellite dishes should find this blast from the past enjoyable. 2.5 thumbs.

"Don't wait up! I've heard these Noam Chomsky lectures sometimes go long."

Bonus: The awesomely 80s TerrorVision Theme song!

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DVD Review: There's Nothing Out There! (1992)

Dearest friends, it is I, the Duke of DVD, once more entering into sexual congress with all that is MAD in cinema, an unholy coupling that will spawn wretched, unnameable things best put down with alacrity, lest they grow in power and finally destroy the world in a black tempest of wanton deviancy. I have traveled far and wide, my dearest subjects, and delved into many a’ forgotten hole, in order to mine the choicest of stinky nuggets for your cinematic pleasure.

From the top of Bihor Massif in the west Carpathian Mountains, to the lowest valleys of forgotten islands in the South Pacific, I’ve searched. I’ve made profane trades with entities whose names I cannot commit to this page, in exchange for the best of the worst, the sort of movies that burrow under your flesh and deposit night-black eggs, which gestate unknown to you, until such time as you are devoured from within, your eyes becoming black orbs as your tongue swells, your sphincter loosens, and blackened blood pours from your gaping mouth.

I do this, my friends, so that you don’t have to. So that you may sit in your mud-dobbed hovels, a sheep’s-dung fire warming your wizened, twisted hands as you gulp down the few spoonfuls of watery gruel that serve as your only meal that day. Knowing that a glimpse of my written word is the only thing sustaining your will to live, I take it as a sacred duty to risk life and limb in order to procure movies to watch that no mere human is capable of. What monstrosity do I have for you today?

Journey with me, let us find out... (MORE MADNESS)

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XTRO (1983): or, Like Father, Like Son, Like Hell

Some people are just natural-born Givers. If you go to them looking to borrow a cup of sugar, they give you the whole bag. You ask for the repayable loan of an egg, and they respond by handing you a chicken and a year's worth of feed. You send them a thank-you note for their generosity, and they reply with a thank-you for the thank-you together with a year's paid membership in the Scrumptious Chocolates of the Month club. These people give and give and give, often expecting nothing in return but the acceptance of the offered gifts. All they want is the opportunity to be the vehicle on which you ride to the sunny climes of Happiness.

Of course, these people often also have serious psychological issues.

If it were a human being, the British sci-fi WTF-stravaganza Xtro (1982, dir. Harry Bromley Davenport) would be one of these people.

We open at a country cottage not far removed from the bustling heart of London, where nurturing nice-guy dad Sam Phillips (Philip Sayer) is playing fetch with his adorable son Tony (Simon Nash) and their even-more adorable border collie Katie. Perhaps hoping to recreate his favorite scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey, Sam hauls back and launches the stick high over the roof of the house. He succeeds better than he could have hoped, as the stick explodes in a shower of sparks and the sky is immediately filled with blinding lights and sci-fi noises of the most sinister variety. As the sky darkens and an unnatural wind sweeps him toward the light, Sam urges his son to run for it, which (being the obedient sort) he does. Long moments later Sam is gone, leaving his son an orphan and his wife Rachel (Bernice Stegers, previously of Lamberto Bava's Macabre [1980]) back on the market.

This dog refused screen credit for this picture.

Three years pass in a jump-cut. Rachel believes Sam's disappearance to be a classic case of Spousal Abandonment, but still has filed neither a missing person's report nor divorce papers. She has not let the sheets of the marriage bed get cold, however, as she now shares her London apartment with her boyfriend Joe (Danny Brainin), a successful commercial photographer and former friend of her disappeared hubby. The lovebirds largely leave the care of young Tony to their French au pair Analise (future Bond Girl Maryam d'Abo, in her debut movie role), whose main job qualifications seem to be a terrible accent and her undeniably smokin' hawtness.* For his part, Tony has never accepted that his father just up and run-oft, and constantly looks forward to the day they will be reunited.

*Nota bene: Maryam D'Abo is the cousin once-removed of Olivia D'Abo, who made her debut as the spoiled princess in Conan the Destroyer (1984), and whom I had previously erroneously assumed to be Maryam's twin sister.

Unluckily for everyone involved, the little moppet's wishes are soon to be granted. Back in rural England, a familiar blinding light falls from the sky, depositing a pool of goop in the woods which soon coagulates into one of the freakiest extraterrestrials it's ever been my pleasure to see on the screen. You want a little practical FX post-Giger nightmare fuel? Check out THIS bad boy:

Xtrordinary

 As you might imagine, that anatomical configuration is not a particularly agile one; as a result, the space beast is quickly smacked by a Citroën doing about thirty-five down the country road. Of course the drivers--one of them sporting one of the most magnificent New-Wave Brit Mullets ever--get out to see what got all up in their grille, with predictably messy results. None the worse for wear, the creature crab-walks to a nearby cottage owned by a thirtysomething spinster. There it gains entry (apparently by teleporting into the kitchen cupboard) and rams its ovipositor in her face before collapsing in a heap of denatured ickiness, which the lady's dog helpfully starts to clean up. (Eww.)

The ickiness is just beginning, however: upon awakening an hour or so later, the woman finds herself the subject of a time-lapse short on the wonders of childbirth, as her belly swells to full 40-week distension in a matter of moments. The strain on her system is too much: she collapses on the floor, dead. Just as well, for this spares her the pain and horror of seeing a full grown man climb out of her vagina, dragging most of her meaty innards with him before gnawing through his umbilical cord with his own teeth! The filmmakers do not skimp on the caro syrup nor the sloppy sound effects, making for a gloriously gross moment of WTF.

Worst party favor ever.

Of course the newborn manchild is Sam, who has been a resident alien on the alien planet since his abduction. ("I had to be...changed...so I could live there!" he later explains.) Now back in roughly human form, he quickly finds his way back to London and insinuates himself into his estranged family's life, claiming no memory of the intervening three years. Tony is the only one happy to see him. Rachel is understandably torn, and Joe struts around taunting his rival with public displays of affection toward his wife, like an alpha dog marking out territory. Still, Rachel thinks, no sense involving medical professionals (or the POLICE) in all this; instead, she invites Sam to stay at the apartment with them until they can sort things out.

This gives Sam the opportunity to start working on his real objective: apparently he's more than happy being a Double-Jointed Killbeast from Planet Yog, but can't go another space year without his dearly beloved son at his side. Left alone with the boy, Sam gives Tony a love bite on the neck--a visual that would be icky even if it weren't for the body-horror effects--which imparts to the boy some of Dad's alien abilities. What kind of abilities, you may well ask? Well, how about the ability, through simple concentration, to make anything he can imagine become real?** Talk about your fringe benefits!

Submitted without comment.

**This explains, one assumes, how Sam was able to teleport into his doomed baby-momma's house earlier--though it sheds no light on why, this being the case, Sam didn't just concentrate on coming to Earth already in human form, or better yet simply imagine Tony on the alien ship with him and have done with it.


The Xtro train has never had a firm grip on the narrative rails since the stick exploded in scene one, but here it really jumps them for good--or rather, points the engine upward and rockets straight into the outer BatShittosphere. Little Tony quickly crosses over into "It's a Good Life" territory, bringing his toy soldier to life to wreak vengeance on a meddlesome neighbor, materializing a live panther in his room, and animating a wooden clown to be his accomplice in evil! (The "real" clown is played by Peter Mandell, a Little Person in exactly the type of role Peter Dinklage hilariously vented on in Tom DeCillo's Living in Oblivion [1995].)

Even though this is far afield from the story's beginnings in Alien Abduction territory, it actually fits in to film better than you'd think. The whole movie has had an odd, otherworldly quality. Scenes shift from day to night and back with abandon. Night scenes are lit brightly from impossible sources. Chunks of context are missing or never existed. Murders happen, and no one seems to notice or care, much less phone the police. Characters speak their lines in a somnolent daze, and motivation is the merest afterthought, when it's thought of at all. In a way, the entire movie has played like an extended dream sequence--like Twilight Zone without restraint, or Tim Burton without horizontal stripes.

"If only Olaf could see me now!"

Tired of her waffling, Joe moves out in a huff, leaving Sam and Rachel to salvage their interspecies marriage. Those two head out to the cottage where it all began, leaving Tony with Analise. Using his alien mind powers and dwarf-clown henchman, Tony kills his keeper's boyfriend and knocks the French girl unconscious before infecting her with his alien cooties in another uncomfortably sexual, age-inappropriate scene. Becoming more and more alien, Tony cocoons Analise up in the bathroom and makes her a Cronenbergian egg-laying machine, then tricks Joe into taking him to the cottage.

Meanwhile (and with absolutely no buildup other than a jump-cut), Sam and Rachel are rekindling their physical relationship (like rabid minx). Unfortunately Sam's alien physiology  causes him to have an allergic reaction to Rachel's sex stank, the symptoms of which include ruptured back lesions and acute horrifying ugliness. Joe shows up and is dealt with via sonic scream, and the reunited father and son walk into the woods, sloughing skin as they go, to be taken back into the mother ship. Either in shock or not too bothered (it's hard to tell), Rachel goes back to the London apartment, where a dwarf, a live panther and one last icky surprise await her. And Fin.

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me."

Parishioners, Xtro is a movie that delivers the goods, and throws in a bunch of extra snack crackers you didn't even know you  were hungry for. The effects are all practical and wonderfully disgusting, and the creature design is pretty great too. The acting is nothing to write home about, though the actors themselves are probably less to blame than the writer and director on that count. Still, even though the script is all over the place, there's just so much happening at all times it's hard to get too upset about. All the actors seem admirably committed, though, with special props to Maryam D'Abo, who provides some high-quality nekkidity more than once. The sythesizer score (also by director Davenport) made me want to puncture my own eardrums with Q-Tips, but given the unrelenting weirdness of the piece, I wondered if perhaps this was by design.

In closing, if you can just shut off your logic centers and let the MADness wash over you, you'll have a great time with this one. Gory, crazy, entertaining and never dull, Xtro deserves a place at the table with 80s scifi insanities like Inseminoid and Galaxy of Terror. 3 Thumbs. Seek it out, and let Xtro make you happy. That's all it wants!

More photos from XTRO (1982):

Xtro Alpo

Didn't figure on this much action

"DWARF FROM ABOVE!"

"You know the rules, Sam. You lost at Connect Four. Get suckin'!"

"What the fuck am I doing here?"

"Mommy! Give us a kiss!"

Indecent Xposure

 

"OBEY!"

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DVD Review: BRAIN DEAD (2007)

Director Kevin S. Tenney should be no stranger to fans of B-movie horror. In his more than two decades as a filmmaker, he has helmed such cheesetastic shlock-fests as Witchboard (1986), Night of the Demons (1986), The Cellar (1989), and Witchboard 2: The Devil's Doorway (1993). While these movies perhaps fail to earn a spot on most movie lovers' Top Ten lists, in most cases they succeed in delivering a goofy, goopy good time in the finest tradition of late 20th-century video horror.

Since Tenney was also the man at the helm for one of the Vicar's personal favorite entries in the mid-90s killer-doll boom--the relatively unknown and underrated 1996 effort Pinocchio's Revenge--I was intrigued to see what the director had been up to lately. And thanks to Breaking Glass Pictures' recent DVD release of Tenney's shot-on-video sci-fi/zombie comedy Brain Dead (2007), now I know.

The story here is nothing particularly new: while fishing with his drinking buddies in a remote cabin, an unlucky sportsman is nailed in the noggin with a falling asteroid. Unfortunately for the human race generally and this fisherman in particular, the space rock is carrying a worm-like, half-liquid parasite that quickly takes control of his gray matter and sends him on a murderous brain-eating rampage.

In a nearby rural town, vehicular scofflaw Clarence Singer (Joshua Benton) is chained Defiant Ones-style to captured murderer Bob Jules (David Crane), to be transported to the Big House in a bigger county. At the same time, standard-issue hypocritial minister Reverend Farnsworth (Parks and Recreations' Andy Forrest) is travelling through town with buxom secretary Amy Smoots (Cristina Tiberia), looking for a good spot to expiate his impure thoughts about the girl. Meanwhile, city girl Sherry Morgan (Sarah Grant Brendecke) and her closeted lesbian sorority sister Claudia Bush (Michelle Tomlinson) are hiking through the wilderness, lost thanks to Claudia's less-than-stellar map-reading skills. (Guess she earned her merit badges in other areas, IYKWIMAITYD.) Finally, Park Ranger Shelly (a very Darryl Hanna-esque Tess McVicker) answers a call from the fisherman's worried wife and heads out to the cabin to check on him for her.

Of course through a series of misadventures and coincidental cataclysms all of the above characters soon find themselves holed up in the fishing cabin where the monster has made its nest, forced to deal with both the extraterrestrial terror outside and the increasingly unhinged killer Bob. Friendships are forged, romances bloom, and comeuppances are received as the film rushes--or rather saunters--to its expectedly gory conclusion.

"You know, this has got me thinkin'..."

Whether you enjoy Brain Dead or not will depend largely on how well you like your cheese, and whether you're willing to put up with a certain amount of filler in between delicious bites. That filler consists mostly of forced, "witty" dialogue between various combinations of characters, all spoken by actors who for the most part have neither the dramatic nor comedic chops to make them work. Perhaps its by design that none of the characters react to their situation with anything like normal human responses, as no one in front of or behind the camera seems to be taking it particularly seriously--but this is one of those cases where the intended comedy is severely undercut by the characters being in on the joke. At times I half expected the score to be drowned out by a canned laugh track and a whimsical trombone lick--that dire.

But then there's the cheese--and for connoisseurs of the stuff, it's of a fairly high grade. While the meteor attack scenes boast some truly horrible CG that looks like it was done by a 12 year old on his MacBook, the makeup and gore effects are all practical, and pretty satisfying. The mutated zombie/parasite hosts are nicely done, each with his own particular look and personality. And when the space zombies attack, Tenney doesn't hold back: eyes are gouged out, holes are punched through faces, and craniums are split like walnut shells to get at the spongy pink brains within--which always come out in one piece, handy for snacking! The episodes of carnage are too few in my opinion--we could have lost several scenes of unfunny dialogue and replaced them with monster grue and everyone would have been a lot happier--but the ones we get have a gloriously gory 80s sensibility that many mad movie fans will be cheering.

The 2010 "Three Stooges" Reboot

So you've got beasts and blood, but what about boobs? Tenney doesn't skimp on that staple either: the flesh on display is plentiful and varied, as none of the actresses are shy about shedding their summer dress in the name of Art. It's all modelling stuff with no sex scenes--sorry, pervs--but there is one startling effect wherein a bit of the alien goo finds a way into the cabin using the old Trojan Horse technique...though it ain't no horse, if you get my drift. (The graphic close-up here is prosthetic--I hope--but nonetheless effective for it.)

The acting is mostly bad, as I said: Sarah Grant-Brendecke has a certain charisma over and above her curvy pin-up gorgeousness, and comes off the best of the lot; no one else really distinguishes him or herself. Directorially Tenney lets the pacing drag quite a bit, but the monster and gore scenes have an undeniable energy, and die-hard 80s horror fiends should be able to spot a few homages to flicks of the era. (I counted at least three Evil Dead nods, for instance.) And I'd be remiss not to mention that legendary schlock director Jim Wynorski has a cameo as Sheriff Bodine, so watch for that.

DVD extras will include commentary by Tenney and the cast, a behind-the-scenes featurette, deleted scenes and bloopers, and trailers, but were not available on the review copy I received.

Brain Dead isn't going to change anyone's life, and probably won't better anyone's opinion of Tenney--but it shouldn't harm his reputation either. If you're looking for something to pass the time--something with lots of gore and nudity that doesn't ask too much of your higher thinking functions--then this one fits the bill. 2 thumbs. 

I can get behind it.

Breaking Glass Pictures provided a copy of this movie to MMMMMovies for review purposes.

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Killdozer (1974): or, The Very Angry Caterpillar

A group of wildcatting construction workers are plying their trade on a small island 200 miles off the coast of Africa, where they've been hired by the Warburton Oil Company to build a base camp for the oil workers who are going to be based there. But when this cadre of extremely manly men inadvertently dig up an ancient asteroid that contains an alien energy being with the ability to possess and operate heavy machinery, they soon find themselves running for their lives from forty-nine tons of terror: the KILLDOZER!

For a story that might have been written by a couple of grade schoolers looking for new ways to menace their GI Joe action figures in the neighborhood sandlot, the 1974 made-for-TV thriller Killdozer has quite an auspicious literary history. The original short story was written by famous science-fiction author Theodore Sturgeon and published under the title "Killdozer!"* in the November 1944 issue of the similarly famous pulp magazine Astounding. It has been anthologized and reprinted dozens of times in the intervening three-quarter century, and remains Sturgeon's most famous tale, if you don't count the two Star Trek episodes he penned (which, according to Chris Sims of Chris's Invincible Superblog, both involve "Spock going batshit insane and throwing bowls of soup around") . In addition to this TV movie, the story was adapted by Marvel Comics in 1974 for what I can only assume was a Massive Media Crossover Event. (See the aforementioned Superblog for more detail on that effort.)

*The decision on the part of the filmmakers to drop the exclamation point from the title can only be called dreadfully misguided.

Death Comes Dozing

After a brief opening shot of the eeevil asteroid making its way toward earth (an effect seemingly achieved by filming someone flinging a chunk of concrete at a pasteboard library globe in super-slow motion), we are quickly introduced to our protagonists. Foreman Lloyd Kelly (Clint Walker) is a dried-out drunk who failed disastrously at his last job thanks to the booze, and has been given this one last chance to do right. His crew consists of cynical "sourball" Dennis Holving (Carl Betz), affectionate hetero-lifepartners Dutch Krasner (James Wainwright) and Mack McCarthy (an extremely young and bright-eyed Robert Urich), token minority worker Al Beltran (James A. Watson Jr.), and crusty old mechanic Chub Foster (Neville Brand of Tobe Hooper's Eaten Alive). Kelly's no-nonsense work ethic and beyond deadpan delivery make him rather unpopular with his funloving, adventure-seeking crew.

The trouble starts when Mack jumps into his Caterpillar D-9 to clear out some dirt near some dilapidated WWII-era barracks, and runs smack into the buried asteroid. Despite its awesome earth-moving power, the dozer can't budge the modestly sized boulder. Irritated with the delay, Kelly has Mack jump out so he can take control; but when the blade of the bull hits the rock, it releases a blast of energy that fries Mack to a crisp--though not before he sees a strange blue glow pass from the asteroid to the heavy machinery.

"You hear that? It said, 'Suck my tailpipe, Squishy!'"

The death of their youngest and most popular workmate has a negative effect on the crew's morale, and Kelly doesn't help matters by cutting the beach-side funeral short and insisting they all report for work at the usual time the next morning. He further cements his asshole status when the boys pull out a bottle of whiskey--"Only one way to say goodbye to an Irishman!" Dutch reasons--and Kelly confiscates it after a few swigs. Meanwhile, Chub is concerned by the strange humming noise coming from the D-9...

You can probably see some of the narrative challenges inherent in the setup here. The cast of characters is absolutely tiny, and the lack of any female characters (and thus no recourse to the standard time-filling Romantic Interest Subplot) further limits the dramatic possibilities. Director Jerry London and Theodore Sturgeon (adapting from his own story) are therefore forced to turn the whole thing into a Foxhole Drama--a bunch of manly men, trapped in a relatively small space, waxing philosophical about life and death while the seemingly unstoppable foe stalks them from afar. (In fact, Dutch says at one point, "I'm beginning to get this, you know? Sorta like being on patrol in Viet Nam." Except with more bulldozing.)

Beltran discovers too late what the Killdozer's gearshift has become

As for that stalking foe, the Killdozer itself is actually fairly fearsome. Low angle shots of its massive steel blade bearing down on the tiny ant-like humans are well framed, even if they do get repetitive by the drama's end. It's also deceptively light on its feet--er, tracks. When Beltran loses control of the dozer and bails out, it quickly wheels on him and cuts off his escape. You'd think it'd be easy to outmaneuver a nearly 100,000 pound machine on foot, but Killdozer easily corrals the hapless construction worker and forces him toward a scrap heap. Granted, shock at the sight of a self-driving dozer may have been a factor in Beltran's immobility--but his final decision to hide from the machine by crawling into a barely shoulder-width metal culvert tube is as disastrous as it is obviously stupid. Somehow the men manage to bury him beside Mack, however--possibly by squeezing him out into the grave like toothpaste.

From there we progress at the rough pace of a death for each commercial break. Chub and his fuel truck go up in a ball of flame after an ill-timed ambush attempt, Dutch is summarily flattened, and antagonistic partners Kelly and Dennis must find a way to destroy the Killdozer, or at least stay alive until the supply ship comes in two days--no small feat, since the dozer no longer needs gas to run, can build its own roads to wherever it wants to go, and is absolutely impregnable as far as the puny non-armed humans are concerned. But then Kelly realizes it's not the Dozer they have to kill...

Even though he knew it was suicide, Dutch never backed down from a game of Chicken.

Most of the drama here is of the human sort, as Kelly wrestles with his need to stay in control and cynical Dennis espouses an every-man-for-himself philosophy ("You want a piece of advice?" he tells Kelly. "Never have anything you care about losing." The foreman deapans back, "As long as you're happy." Burrrrrn.) There are hints of class warfare between the brass of Warburton and the low-class workers ("Survival of the management!" Dutch complains to Chub. "Guys like you and me are expendable!") Meanwhile the simple-minded galoot Dutch is still in mourning for Mack, mixing nostalgic rememberances of his friend with good-natured non-sequiturs ("Man, that was the most crazy, beautiful kid!...Hey Dennis, did I ever tell you I played in the Cotton Bowl?") as he slowly gives in to madness.

It must be said that the relationship between Dutch and Mack, which we get a sense of mostly through Dutch's elegiac narration, is probably the most interesting part for the modern viewer--laying aside the rampaging bulldozer action, that is. I have no doubt that the two were meant to be seen as the most manly of best friends, in the sort of relationship that was common in fiction of the 40s but seems to have mostly disappeared today--and the reason for that disappearance is the rise of Homoerotic Awareness. It's hard not to chuckle when pre-cooked Mack seems uninterested in the photo of Veronica Lake Dutch slavers over, or when Dutch tells how they would have scored with some locals in a foreign port, but Mack ran in fright from the strange women, scuttling their chances. By the time Dutch meets his end en route to the beach to reenact the memory of a Mack & Dutch midnight swim--apparently one of Dutch's fondest memories, Cotton Bowl be damned--well, it's difficult to eschew a modern perspective.

To be fair, he does have a purty mouth.

Even at a lean 74 minutes sans commercials, Killdozer runs out of plot long before it runs out of time. It's helped out a little by some excellent performances by long-time character actors: Betz is great as the "sourball" Dennis, and Brand and Wainwright also manage to create interesting people out of what could easily be two-dimensional placeholders. I wasn't quite as moved by Walker's emotionless performance, but I guess if you like your Men's Man to be the strong and silent type, it could work.

That said, the final confrontation with the Killdozer is a little kid's dream come true--as the D-9 chases them toward the main construction area, Kelly and Dennis climb into the massive excavator onsite (why didn't they think of this earlier?!) to fight back. The ensuing battle reminds one of nothing more than the old T-Rex vs. Triceratops illustrations in the gradeschool dinosaur books, and was definitely a standout scene.

"Here's a message from Mike Mulligan, Killdozer: SUCK IT."

Still, it's hard to figure why the Killdozer mythology has had such staying power. Is it the childish fascination with the power of heavy machinery? Is it the John Henry-like struggle of man vs. machine? Or (more likely) was Sturgeon just fortunate to have coined such an instantly memorable neologism as KILLDOZER? The world may never know. But as for this cinematic adaptation, I liked it enough to recommend it softly with a 1.85 to 2 thumb rating. Your mileage may vary--depending, of course, on what you're a-haulin'.

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Evilution (2008): or, How to Manage an Apocalypse

A few weeks back I was fortunate enough to get a look at a new slasher flick from Island Gateway Films, the fun, well-made, and still criminally sans-distributor Basement Jack. In my positive review of that movie I mentioned my happy discovery that the flick was the second in a projected trilogy from the production company's Black Gate Entertainment division, all written by Brian O'Toole and centering around various strange happenings at The Necropolitan, a mysterious, ancient hotel-cum-apartment building overseen by the equally mysterious and enigmatic character known only as The Manager (Nathan Bexton). Luckily my prayers to the Movie Gods were answered when not long after posting that review I received a screener of the first installment in the Necropolitan franchise, Chris Conlee's 2008 effort Evilution.

Having seen two of Island Gateway's offerings now, I can without reservation count myself a fan of their horror output. Where Basement Jack took the time-honored slasher formula and added enough odd and exploitastic elements to make it fresh and contemporary, Evilution combines biozombies, mad science, and alien invasion elements to lift itself well out of the 28 Days Later/Dawn of the Dead Remake-rehash rut it could easily have fallen into. Bloody, exciting, and most of all FUN, Evilution is another winner from Black Gate that should leave horror fans with a smile on their faces.

Plus--more Manager. Can you dig it?

We open in a military installation in Iraq, where a top secret biohazardous experiment has already gone disastrously wrong. In the hospital wing we find a white-coated scientist running for his life, the equipment around him toppled and destroyed, the bedsheets and walls bearing ominous sprays of blood. Less than 28 seconds later a group of wild-eyed, bloodstained zombie-types block his exit from the building, giving chase with acrobatic tumbling runs and wire-fu gurney-vaults as the doctor runs for his life. He's not fast enough, though, and is soon overrun by the bloodthirsty horde, which proceeds to tear out his throat, his abdomen, and any other part they can get their hands on, treating us to some nice chunky gore and energetic arterial spray.

Take all you want, eat all you take.

Outside, the guards don't yet know what's going on, but they're conscientious enough to stop Dr. Darren Hall (Eric Peter-Kaiser) at the exit, clued in by his lack of traveling orders and his stammering, shell-shocked manner. When they discover a vial of glowing red liquid clearly marked "BIOHAZARD" in his possession, they're ready to throw him in the stockade--but before they can the zombies burst out of the main building and start performing their horrific floor exercises, tearing the guards to pieces and allowing the Doc to escape. Moments later a passing US bomber drops its payload on the installation, following the ROTLD-1985 Protocol for Undead Infection Containment.

Backstory done, after the opening credits we find ourselves at THE NECROPOLITAN, where the somehow-made-it-out-alive Darren is taking up residence. He is welcomed by your favorite superintendent and mine, The Manager, played with typical weird, endearing priggishness by Nathan Bexton. I made no secret of my Bexton-fandom after my viewing of Basement Jack, and everything I loved about that performance is also in evidence here, with the sole exception of his exciting facial hair. The Manager leads Darren to his basement apartment, all the while dropping tantalizing hints about the building's history. (Manager: "There are some who say this building just appeared here, sometime after World War II." Darren: "You'd think somebody would have to build it!" Manager [with a meaningful smirk]: "You'd think.")

"My Awesome--Let Me Show You It."

On the way downstairs Darren meets fellow resident Maddie, played by the SMOKIN' HAWT Sandra Ramírez. Commenting on the strong smell of ammonia and chlorine, Darren learns that there used to be a swimming pool in the basement, and some of the chemicals were sealed in the walls when it was filled in. ("You'll get used to it," the Manager assures him. "Most of them did--do.") Darren moves in and quickly runs afoul of some Latino gangbangers headed by Random (Noel G), who don't appreciate his having taken residence in their former party pad. These thugs also take a strong interest when they see Darren accept delivery of a mysterious package, which the audience learns contains his military uniform, his service revolver, and a vial of the glowing red liquid the military hoped had been destroyed.

Conlee does a good job early on establishing the tone of the movie, walking a line between the horrific imagery of the biozombie attach and the off-kilter comedy of Darren's moving-in experiences. Though some of the comedy is perhaps a bit too broad--Darren gets locked out of his apartment and spends a good deal of time outside, in his underwear, for instance--other bits, such as Maddie's dressing-down of the poseur gangstas and the Manager's helpful note to Darren (which he discovers taped to his chest on waking after his first night) work a little better.

Romance blooms between Darren and Maddie, as one would expect. Despite being RIDICULOUSLY HAWT, Maddie apparently has trouble getting dates, and wastes no time throwing herself at her shy, reserved housemate. In an improbably heavy first-date conversation we learn that Darren is emotionally scarred by his mother's suicide and was inspired at an early age to become a scientist after witnessing a lightning strike destroying a massive tree in the middle of a field. (A nice allusion to Frankenstein, the novel, by O'Toole, there.) Even though Maddie is obviously willing to let him practice his filthy creation on her, IYKWIM, Darren begs off to go downstairs and finish setting up his apartment. Because he doesn't want to seem easy, I guess.

"Jesus, what have I got to do? Put magnets in 'em and feed the dude BBs?"

So now we have the motivation for Darren to smuggle the dangerous stuff out of Iraq and back to his own basement lab--like Victor Frankenstein and Herbert West before him, he hopes to harness this blasphemous power to conquer death, in this case in memory of his beloved mother who as a child he could not save. As mad scientist origins go it works for me--and since any glowing vial containing the secret of life is sure to call up associations with Stuart Gordon's Re-Animator, it's good to know that the filmmakers realize this and embrace it. (Some of Peter-Kaiser's mannerisms and actions, particularly when injecting a rat with a sample of his formula, definitely recall Jeffrey Combs's iconic performance.)

It's not long before the gang breaks in and steals Darren's stuff, leading to a mis-identification of the biohazard as primo drugs and the offer to become the Doc's distributors. That doesn't pan out, but the Doc does gain points with the group for patching Random up after a gangland shooting. But when a follow-up shooting leaves the gangsta beyond repair, Darren just can't help giving that good ol' life-juice a try...

Evilution is fast-paced, engaging, and never boring, vacillating between scenes of Darren pursuing his obsession, romantic misunderstandings with Maddie, and the gang trio's comedy-tinged conversations. There's also a parallel plot with the military trying to track Hall down, sending an army assassin after him to tie up that last loose end. Through some footage the army brass watches from the apocalypse at the original installation we also learn that the compound utilized in the Army of the Dead project was of extraterrestrial origin...always a good idea to shoot that into human subjects! We also get a nice mad scientist rant from the head of the Army project, who theorizes that this will be "The next step in the evolution of man!" As you would, naturally--I mean, that kinda goes without saying, doesn't it? Pity that the next step in evolution is so blasted vulnerable to chlorine and ammonia...

I can kinda see how cleaning products would be the bane of these zombies...

Once the biohazard's out of the vial things pick up in a hurry, and soon the Necropolitan is crawling with the agile alien undead. We get more good gore, chlorine-filled condom-bombs, and a rooftop final confrontation that is not terribly surprising but that I still found satisfying. Add a couple of Manager segments and a coda in his own personal Mütter Museum and I finished up the proceedings with a well-entertained smile on my face.

One thing that leapt out at me differentiating Evilution from Basement Jack was the superiority of the FX here. Apart from the "death from above" conclusion of the opening segment, I didn't notice any CG effects in the flick. Everything else seemed to be done with practical effects, and most of them--with the infected tearing chunks out of their victims' throats, ripping at abdomens, etc.--were very chunky and convincing. The pacing is better too, as the story moves along at a very brisk clip throughout to the frenetic us-against-them conclusion.

The acting has its ups and downs. Eric Peter-Kaiser is a little bland as the boyish, shy mad scientist, reacting to most developments with the same blank expression; this worked when he played Basement Jack Riley, but here not as much. However, I was quite engaged by Sandra Ramírez's take on Maddie---Ramírez gives the character a wounded depth behind her goofy, defensive humor and shows she's much more than a pretty face and well-filled tank top--though SWEET JESUS GOD she's certainly THAT as well. Noel G was also in Basement Jack as one of the denigrating detectives, but in the role of Random he gets to flex his muscles more and flesh out a potentially two-dimensional character with flashes of vicious ambition. (His speech about the Meaning of Life, for instance, is delivered with conviction born of hard experience.) His sidekicks James Duval and Guillermo Díaz provide some comic relief that occasionally works, but other times can be grating--your mileage will vary depending on your tolerance for juvenile humor. (FWIW, the Vicar's tolerance for such is very, very high.)

The Manager preserves his distilled awesomeness for posterity.

And then there's THE BEXX--Nathan Bexton as The Manager, who continues to climb the Vicar's list of favorite horror movie icons with his quirky, hilarious, subtext-rich portrayal. Again making the most of minimal screentime, Bexton OWNS every scene he's in, particularly when he suffers another annoying interruption in the film's third act while the zombies are overrunning The Necropolitan. His frustrated babysitter brush-off of the tenants who come banging on his door has me even more excited about the prospect of the third and final Necropolitan movie, in which we're promised we'll finally learn the history of the Man, the Myth, the Manager. Awesome.

It's not all wine and roses--there's a bit of silliness with a tattooed junkie played by Billy Morrison, one of those guys who will apparently shoot up ANYTHING, mainlining the Glowing Red Stuff because "if it laid [Random] low, it *has* to be good stuff!" A little bit weak, especially when it would have been just as easy to have him infected in the more traditional, tooth-centric way. And while I see where the military subplot was necessary and it did have some great moments (watch for a random act of violence against a bonsai tree!), the character of the assassin sent to take care of Darren never really clicked for me, and I never really felt our hero was in much danger from that avenue.

Still, there's a fun to be had here if you go along for the ride, and like Basement Jack, Evilution is a better-made, more entertaining horror flick than many I've seen with nation-wide distribution. 2.5 thumbs, and here's hoping someday soon a distributor will wise up and start putting these flicks in front of the wider viewing public. If you get a chance to catch either on the festival circuit, do yourself a favor. And tell 'em the Vicar sent you.

Sign me up.

(All Images © Island Gateway Films.)

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The Beast in Space (1980): or, Just Horsin' Around

Tell me if this has ever happened to you: you're sitting around watching TV, checking out a classic episode of Star Trek: the Original Series, and you think to yourself, "You know, this is pretty great--the overacting, the manufactured drama, the papier-mâché sets and rubber-headed monsters, all 100% class. But it would be so much better if they just threw in a couple of scenes of LENGTHY, EXPLICIT PORN."

I know, we've all been there. And we're not alone--Italian sci-fi impresario Alfonso Brescia (aka Al Bradley), the creative force behind such classics as War of the Planets, War of the Robots, and War in Space, is there too; and unlike us, instead of just sitting there pining for Uhuru and stroking his Roddenberry, he decided to DO something about it. The result: his 1980 space opera mash-up, The Beast in Space (aka La Bestia Nello Spazio).

Now let's get this out of the way right up front: Alfonso Brescia is not a good filmmaker. He's rather bad. Terrible, in fact. His main talent seems to have been an aptitude for coming up with sci-fi plots that could utilize costumes, sets, and footage he'd already shot for a previous film, thus saving multo lire. (For instance, if you look up the plot summaries for the "War" trilogy mentioned above, you'll notice that they all take place in an underground alien society where an evil robot or alien controls gold android soldiers in page-boy hairdos to keep the human population under control. All of them share more than one reel of footage.) He's kind of the Ed Wood of Italian sci-fi, minus the angora sweaters and the crazy passion for filmmaking.

With The Beast in Space, Brescia manages to recycle that same old plot, this time mashing it up inexplicably with Walerian Borowczyk's controversial 1975 art-flick La Bête, which memorably joined the fairy tale Beauty and the Beast with hardcore pornography, courtesy Finnish actress Sirpa Lane and a bear-suit equipped with a giant dildo. I can only guess Brescia caught a screening of Borowczyk's film and thought to himself, "This is great, but it would be even better...IN SPACE!" And here we see the slapdash, sometimes hilarious result.

"Are you kidding? I can't see anything in here!"

We open with a few scenes of futuristic jump-suited types walking around a huge supercomputer with the name "WIZ" emblazoned on its chassis, which figures in to nothing but the opening and closing credits. After that we find ourselves in a space pub (you can tell by the disco lights and the hanging strips of cloudy plastic), where Space Captain Larry Madison (Bresci regular Vassilli Karis) is working the shiny tunic and tiny moustache while making eyes at intergalactic beauty Sondra Richardson (Sirpa Lane, whose availability for this flick may have played into Bresci's decision to remake Borowczyk's flick).

After bellying up to order a big glass of Uranus Milk (SERIOUSLY--it's the most popular drink at the bar, and apparently quite strong. Call me a prude, but I'm not sure I'd be lining up for a glass of milk from Uranus...), Captain Larry turns around to find tradesman Juan Cardosa (Venantino Venantini, looking like an aging Han Solo in a poofy shirt) has moved in on his girl, trying out what have to be some of the lamest pick-up lines in the galaxy: "At the trade association, we are experts in judging women!...You are about to discover new heavens!" Not about to let a stinking tradesman keep him from Finnish-ing up, Larry initiates a barroom brawl to cement his alpha-male status. Larry's fighting style, which I have christened "FLAILING-ARM FU," proves too much for the lower-class Lothario, and the next thing you know he's making time with Sondra while Juan licks his wounds.

Apparently it's very sexy in space, because in three verbal exchanges Larry and Sondra move from innuendo to out-uendo to blatant propositioning. Seven-and-a-half minutes in we've got our first extended love scene--close-ups of grasping hands give way to writhing bums and bush shots, with a couple of jarring pick-ups showing nipple tweakage on what is obviously a different woman (skin tone, nipple size, and hairy pits are just a few of the red flags). As Sirpa has no compunction about getting her kit off for art, I really don't know why Bresci felt compelled to throw those in--but I guess if you've got footage of an olive-skinned torso getting her saucer-like nipples squeezed, you pretty much have to use it when you can.

You're doin' it wrong.

After their more than two-minutes of love Larry just wants to go to sleep, but Sondra just *has* to tell him (and us) all about the recurring dream she's been having. In it she's running through a forest in ragged clothes, finds an abandoned castle, attends a banquet with a swarthy embroidered-robe wearing nobleman, by whom she is later raped. She turns to find Larry has nodded off in the middle of this story, which pretty much closes the door on their romance.

Back in Command Central, Captain Larry is informed by his superiors that the tradesman he fought at the bar has apparently smuggled in some Antalium, the most valuable and rare metal in the universe, needed by the military to make neutron bombs. He's told to find out where Juan got it so they can raid this new source of destructive power. Back to the bar he goes, this time in a fantastic black silk and red sash ensemble, and after some liquid courage in the form of more Uranus Milk has another flailing-arm fracas with Cordosa. After lots of banter the tradesman is laid low again, and another space-slut offers her services to the irresistibly milk-drunk Captain Larry.

Turns out the Antalium came from the distant planet Lorigon, a place no space soldier has ever set foot. Captain Larry is introduced to his hastily assembled crew, which includes as navigator the now much less slutty looking Sondra. The two make up and then we get the requisite phallic rocket lift-off (complete with sparkler engines!) and hey-o! We're going boldly where no Italian has ever gone before!

The Italian Space Fleet: This Is How We Roll

The set and costume design throughout the movie is pretty hilarious, but never more so than in this sequence, with Larry and his crew in red felt skullcaps adorned with silver-circle ear protectors and the casters on the battle station/office chairs on the bridge CLEARLY visible. Sondra takes a nap after liftoff and we get to see her dream again, this time with more detail (i.e., more bush) and views of other members of the crew rolling around in the grass with each other, naked. Fantasy, or premonition? Hmmm...

They're almost to Lorigon when the ship is waylaid by Juan Cardosa, who taunts Larry over the intercom before sending them hurtling toward the planet's surface. After some nice in-chair "terror" acting on the crew's part as the camera swirls around them, they finally restabilize and head off to the planet's surface to find the valuable metal before Juan does.

The atmosphere on Lorigon is breathable by humans (what are the chances?) and so they quickly send out the landing party. But no sooner has the crew (now in Devo-worthy vinyl jumpsuits) left the landing pod than they're attacked by a truck-faced robot! They scamper back in, regroup pointlessly, and exit again, this time without incident. Soon they're trekking through an alien forest, the Antalium-detector leading them through a cave to an underground cavern where shadowy figures trail them but nothing much else happens.

"Are We Not Men?"

Exiting the cave on the other side, the crew now wanders through another forest--this one EXACTLY like the one from Sondra's dream!--and notice that the planet is strangely affecting their moods: the men suddenly get furious, the woman shivery in a not-unpleasant way. They decide to turn back, but before they can, they happen upon TWO HORSES FUCKING OUT OF NOWHERE!

Apparently this is an "homage" to Borowczyk's film, which opens with a similar scene of equine copulation. (For all I know, it could BE Borowczyk's film--the footage here is CLEARLY from another source.) The crew is not at all surprised to find two earth animals making wild whoopee on Lorigon; quite the contrary, it turns them on! One of the female crew members starts feeling herself up through the vinyl, squeezing her breasts and brazenly fingering her crotch. (There's no "squeeek squeek squeeek" foley on the soundtrack here, but by God there SHOULD be.) The horse porn goes on for quite a while as the crew stands by hyp-mo-tized, but once the whinnying ceases, off they go as if nothing had happened.

All she needs is a little husbandry.

The movie REALLY loses steam around this point, as the crew wanders around in fog and talks about how weird they feel for what seems like forever. Finally they find an abandoned castle ("It's happening just like in the dream!" Sondra says, to which Larry replies, "Yes, except that the sky is not red and the trees have no tentacles." WHAT? Stop talking out of Uranus, Lare!) They go inside, wander around the studio set for a while, and FINALLY end up in the banquet hall where Juan and Ophan, ruler of Lorigon, are waiting.

The longer it goes on the less important plot summary becomes, so to sum up: Ophan is the ruler, owner, and sole occupant of Lorigon, caretaker of the planet-controlling computer Zocor, which has gone crazy but in a good way, transforming Lorigon into a sensual paradise. Zocor provides food, sumptuous clothing, and sexy thoughts to everyone in range, which leads all of the crew except Sondra to engage in a pillow-and-silk orgy while Ophan makes advances toward Sondra, who is not unreceptive.

Soon they're all out in the woods where the astute viewer will recognize the flash-forwards from earlier taking place in the present. Sondra (in her dream gown) succumbs to Ophan's advances, allowing the swarthy aristocrat to tongue-kiss her and suck on her boobs. Elsewhere, the second-in-command shocks us by TOSSING HIS CREWMATE'S SALAD in the first of the movie's really explicit hardcore scenes.

"You're surprised, aren't you?"

This goes on a bit, until finally Ophan stands over Sondra, sheds his robe, and reveals himself to be A GOAT-FOOTED SATYR WITH A HUGE PRONG! Bresci is obviously EXTREMELY proud of the effects work on this prosthesis, as we get multiple closeups of the rubber phallus and balls from several angles. Sondra screams and bolts, naturally, and Ophan takes up the pursuit, his rigid member bobbing all the way as if leading a sing-a-long.

When he catches Sondra we get graphic shots of the phallus teasing and violating some female genitalia--obviously a stunt snatch, as the olive skin is back and the pubic hair is much bushier and darker than what we've seen several times on Sondra. The graphic shallow penetration goes on for a while, Sondra's dubbed screams getting less and less horrified over time.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, the rest of the crew is having much pleasanter sex. The salad tosser gets blown very graphically and there's more penetration (again, obviously the stunt couple coupling). Larry rolls around with the girl who was so turned on by the horses, and basically we're treated (?) to a 15 minute orgy of the actors doing softcore with the stunt couple providing hardcore cutaways. Meanwhile Juan Cordosa watches knowingly from a distance.

"Turn around, Every now and then I get a little bit restless and I dream of something wild..."

Once the fucking stops, Juan gives Larry a pill that breaks Zocor's hold on his libido, and they formulate a plan to destroy the computer and escape. (Ophan, it turns out, is the physical manifestation of Zocor, who must be one horny PC, yo.) Leaving Sondra to distract the beast with more huge dildo humping, they free the other crew members and off they go into the cave where the computer waits.

At this point we get an extended battle scene between the crew and some of Zocor's androids, a scene I liked almost as much when it was the climax of War of the Robots, one of the worst movies on my otherwise excellent 50 Chilling Classics set. There's almost no tension here (not even in the cheesy light saber duel), and eventually they blow up the machine, steal the Antalium that was powering it, and blast off just as a papier-mâché volcano erupts and the whole planet explodes. Juan gets the money, Larry gets the glory, and Sondra gets zapped back to the ship by a grateful, sated computer just before it all goes boom. The end.

Okay, so this is a very, very bad movie. The rip-off of Borowczyk's movie is shoe-horned in with the utmost clumsiness, and while a few of the sex scenes approach sexiness, none really cross that line, staying rather on the "OMG how can this be so boring" side. While the costumes and situations can be fun (particularly the Beast's--sorry, Ophan's prodigious member), for the most part it's just bad sci-fi meets bad hairy porn, with no real payoff unless that's the sort of thing you're into. The acting is as bad as you'd expect, and Sirpa Lane, who we assume is the whole reason for this cinematic mess, looks bored throughout--though that might just be the Finn in her (IYKWIM).

"I don't suppose either of you have a pint of milk to spare, huh?"

People familiar with Borowczyk's movie who are curious about this "sequel" might find more enjoyment than others, and those with a soft spot for space opera cheese will enjoy the first half a lot. Still, I can't give it more than 1.25 thumbs as a curiosity only. Keep one hand on the fast-forward button and the other on the hand sanitizer. You're going to need both.

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