Well, well, well ... good afternoon, gentle readers, and welcome to the very last day of January, 2024!

Did you seriously think that you were going to get through today without a Daily Grindhouse post?  Oh, perish the thought ... perish the thought ... I was simply tied up with some other activities this morning, and it kept me away from the blog until now.  Now, I'm here -- rest easy, folks -- and I'm making my way through today's trivia in order to give you a little bit extra as you've come to expect from SciFiHistory.Net!

How's your Hump Day, peeps?
​
Mine is going just fine.  On the way home from my volunteer gig, I had to stop at a few stores to try to find a very specific cat food that has been in short supply on shelves as of late.  I won't trouble you with all of the particulars, but I have one feline who has always suffered from some nasal issues.  For whatever reason, there's only this one brand of food she eats on a fairly consistent basis; and this sometimes requires me to run from store to store trying to find it as it isn't always stocked in ample supply.  Ah, the life of a cat parent ...

​In any event, I spent yesterday afternoon enthralled with a 70's action/thriller that -- yes -- I'll be reviewing in this space probably tomorrow or Friday at the latest.  It was quite good -- won't spoil it for you now -- so keep your eyes peeled.  It should be a welcome surprise.

Gosh.  The name of Norm Prescott is one that's rarely (if ever) uttered these days, and -- sigh -- it's a shame that a good deal of his work is lost to history.  Championing these pioneers who helped bring Science Fiction and Fantasy to the masses-at-large was one of the chief reasons that I started SciFiHistory.Net, so I think it only fitting to give readers a minor education on this day as the producer got his start in our plane of existence all the way back in the year 1927.  (So ... Happy Birthday, Norm ... if you're looking down from the other side ...)

For those of you who've never heard his name, it's equally likely that you never heard of the company he helped found -- along with Hal Sutherland and Lou Scheimer.  They're brainchild was known as Filmation, and it opened its doors all the way back in 1963, lasting all the way until 1989 when they finally closed up shop.  And yet in between that start and finish date were some of the staples that made appointment television the glory is was for the bygone era.  There is no way for me to do justice to all of their adventures on screens big and small, but I'll not let the day go by without naming the biggest and brightest so far as this reviewer (and watcher) is concerned.

1967's Journey To The Center Of The Earth was an animated show that lasted seventeen episodes and kinda/sorta mined its source material -- the novel of the same name written by genre legend Jules Verne -- for all it could.  Here's the series' premise as provided by IMDB.com: "Based on the Jules Verne classic novel and the 1959 film by 20th Century Fox. This Saturday morning animated series followed the adventures of Professor Lindenbrook and his party trying to get to the center of the Earth before the evil Count Saknussem They follow a trail left centuries earlier by Arne Saknussem, an ancestor of the Count's."

In similar fashion, Fantastic Voyage (1968-1969) drew inspiration from the 1966 major motion picture that was a bit of a sensation at the box office.  It also lasted only a single season of seventeen episodes.  Here's its premise as provided by IMDB.com: "The government confronts mysterious incidents that threaten international safety and determines it must employ a team of experts who are shrunken to microscopic size to infiltrate and combat otherwise impenetrable dangers; thus is the Combined Miniature Defense Force created; it is led by US Navy Commander Jonathan Kidd, an expert frogman; Guru, a Tibetan wizard possessing fantastic powers; Erica Lane, an astronaut, doctor, and biologist; and Busby Birdwell, a scientist and engineer who builds the CMDF's primary aerial craft, the Voyager."

But it really wasn't until 1973 when Filmation truly came into its own when it bravely went where no man had gone before.  Star Trek: The Animated Series holds a much beloved place in the heart of Trek enthusiasts everywhere, so much so that it's often regarded as a continuation of the live action television show which lasted three seasons on broadcast television.  While I didn't think it was 'on par' with those adventures, it definitely had a few outings that enhanced some of the existing mythology, so much so that it's easy to accept why so many consider it canon in the beloved franchise.

There's more -- honestly, a good deal more -- but I'm going to leave it at that, encouraging folks to check out Mr. Prescott's profile on IMDB.com and explore what strange new worlds truly look like when conceived by one of the industry's smartest players.
​

Regular readers to SciFiHistory.Net know all too well that one of my greatest assets (my word, not yours) is that unlike a great many others who blog about genre I don't always agree with fandom.  Furthermore, I'm not opposed to saying so.  I speak my piece.  I try to stick to my convictions.  If something is grand, then I'll champion it just the way I think it deserves to be applauded.  If I don't see it that way, then I'm perfectly comfortable with being left behind in the process.

One of the biggest disagreements I've had as of the last few years involves Alita: Battle Angel, a flick that premiered on this day back in 2019.

The short skinny here is that Alita was embraced by fandom.  As for me?  I honestly felt 'meh.'

Now, don't get me wrong: the film is a masterpiece with its technical prowess.  What the story loses in epic proportions it definitely makes up for with effects, imagery, and ideas.  But because -- at its core -- it's essentialy little more than a high-tech riff on the whole Pinocchio story, I just wasn't moved by its characters.  Again: yes, it has some great scenes, and it definitely benefits from a stellar cast ... but -- as I've contended -- I just wasn't engaged the way so many others were.  This is what I mean when I say that sometimes my preferences just don't quite coincide with the mainstream; this doesn't make my opinion any better or any worse than anyone else's.  What moves each of us is different, and Alita just seemed a bit too light in pushing boundaries other than the technical ones.  Wizardy is good, but some tricks just don't impress me as they do you.

Regardless, Happy Birthday, Alita.  Here's hoping that long-promised sequel finally gets a greenlight.  It'd be grand to see where you go next.
​

Of course, there's more.  In fact, with an incredible 81 different genre trivia citations, there's actually a lot more.  And this is where I encourage each of you to head on over to the Daily Citation Page to check it all out.  There's nothing better than celebrating SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror, and you'll all encouraged to join in on the fun.  Here's the link to make it easy for you ...

As always, folks, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

Having both watched an incredible number of titles in my lifetime and written about only a fraction of them, I can still say that I’ve only endured a handful of experiences wherein I truly disliked a production.
 
No, no, and no: I’m not trying to ‘set the reader up’ for any big twist or change-up here.  All I’m really doing is trying to give you the low down.  What can I say?  I truly like film.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  I’m aware that a good number of readers have told me that I’m too easy on film, but if I’ve learned anything from this vast number of years watching so many is that even a low-budget stinker might have something memorable to it.  This might be a single performance.  It might be a certain sequence.  It could be something as simple as a great idea or a well-written scene of dialogue.  The point is I’ve gone to great pain in my life writing about motion pictures to give readers some nugget of joy – even in those joyless experiences – because such an attempt was made to entertain us … and I feel it’s a small measure of respect back to everyone involved.  It’s really no more complicated than that.
 
But today I’ll happily let you know that 1983’s The Man Who Wasn’t There is a film that truly pushed me to my limits.  Though I didn’t see this one on its original release (theaters in my area just didn’t run anything resulting from the year’s 3D craze), I did have the – ahem – misfortune of discovering it on VHS.  I think screenwriter Stanford Sherman – who’s also responsible for another travesty that goes by the name Krull (1983) – went into the process of crafting this story as a loose kinda/sorta Cold War comedy that was intended to bring invisibility into the modern era; and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that goal.  The problem is that I suspect somewhere along the way what little substance there was to an already thin plot wound up getting sacrificed in favor of ramping up the childish pratfalls, stereotypical humor, and mildly lewd humor.
 
That which survives in the final cut is, tonally, all over the place, leaving it a genuine mess of curious proportions.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A State Department employee finds an egg-shaped device with a green fluid inside that makes the person who drinks it invisible.  He finds himself being chased by foreign agents who want the substance.”
​

I think there was a time when actor Steve Guttenberg was one of the screen’s reliable talents.  Though his resume may not look as rich today as it was perhaps then, the guy had an effortlessness to him not unlike, say, an early Tom Hanks.  In fact, the two emerged on the Hollywood scene at roughly the same time; but whereas Hanks built a career around some smart choices that would push his skills to greater heights, Guttenberg’s infinitely laid-back personae kept him eternally close to home.
 
1981’s Diner – a smart Drama/Comedy from Barry Levinson – definitely put Steve on the map; and – from there – he emerged as a capable player in such pictures as The Day After (1983), Police Academy (1984), Cocoon (1986), Short Circuit (1986), and the often overlooked The Bedroom Window (1987).  Still, somehow during the height of his exceptional exposure, Guttenberg found himself cast in The Man Who Wasn’t There.  It’s a curious misfire that, likely, would’ve sidelined a weaker talent; and it just may have if it had been more widely seen.
 
Conceived during an era that brought a good handful of 3D pictures to the silver screen, The Man Who Wasn’t There began with a premise that audiences should’ve appreciated if history is any indicator.  Taking the story of an invisible man and reframing it into a technological struggle between the East and West – this being the glory days of tensions between the United States and the former Soviet Union – could’ve intrigued both commoners and our cultural elite; but somehow this Man reached for cheaper and cheaper laughs – easier and lazier ones, too – never quite giving anyone onscreen the chance to do anything memorable with their material.
 
Instead of depicting the proper conflicts of the day, director Bruce Malmuth staged State Department employee Sam Cooper (played by Guttenberg) as little more than a happy camper who spends the better part of what’s supposed to be his wedding day playing host to a veritable cavalcade of stereotypical Third World diplomats whose government dinner unspools like a really, really bad vaudeville routine.  Instead of populating the U.S. Capitol with people of reasonable intellectual integrity or even ruthless foreign adversaries, audiences were treated to some Three Stooges wannabes whose antics feel like they may’ve been culled from some rarely seem silent era comedies.  Rather than explore the dramatic nuances of adult relationships, the script has Guttenberg – without giving his decisions so much as a second thought – willfully and deliberately jumping from the presumed love of his life Amanda (Morgan Host) into the arms of her younger sister Cindy (Lisa Langlois) just because it was convenient.  He didn’t fall out of love with her.  He just simply turned and went another way … with absolutely no real circumspection whatsoever.
 
Seriously, folks: this Man is a horribly bad script – even as a comedy – that just never justifies its need to exist.
 
In the hands of a more accomplished group, the film’s central MacGuffin – at the very least – could’ve been given some substance.  There should’ve been some greater explanation of precisely where it came from and how it suddenly found itself into the hallowed halls of power of Washington, D.C.  Instead, we’re treated to the usual exposition dumps – light ones, as it is – to fill in the holes created by a script that bobs and weaves only when the screenwriter (or director) says it should and not as a consequence of true d-e-v-e-l-o-p-m-e-n-t.  There is a modest collection of moments here that amount to a central story, but – in this bunch’s hands – it feels more like they were stuffed in around the comic material instead of the other way.  Invisibility is used as an excuse to deliver audiences with a moment in the ladies’ shower at an all-girls prep school … so if that’s the kind of movie magic you look for, then you’ll be glad to know that the T’s and the A’s are on full display.
 
Thin as it is, even invisibility deserved better than this.
​

The Man Who Wasn’t There (1983) was produced by Paramount Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I nonetheless found the sights-and-sounds to what’s reported as a brand-new 3D and HD Mastering (from a 4K scan of the original camera negative) to be – aghast – surprisingly awful in spots.  While some sequences look just fine, the inadequacies of the 3D technology of this bygone era (more like ‘begone,’ if you ask me) get a lot of really sad face time; these new scans truly bring some of the inferior cinematography to life, and – gasp – it ain’t all that favorable.  This flick looks cheap on a whole lotta levels!  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Well, the disc includes not only a 2D presentation of the main feature but also includes two different 3D versions, and the packaging includes a nifty pair of red/blue glasses for individual use.  There’s also a commentary from author Paul Corupe and film historian Jason Pichonsky, for those interested in such things.  And, yes, there are a few trailers for posterity’s sake.
 
Alas, folks, this one is only mildly recommended for the following reasons …
 
Wow.  I mean … wow.  I hadn’t seen this one in ages, and – just wow – it hasn’t aged well at all.
 
Made to capitalize on the 3D craze of its day, The Man Who Wasn’t There (1983) is a painfully unfunny genre comedy that never quite blends its low-key boorish character humor with the fact that so much of it feels intended as the bawdy, R-rated sex comedy that emerges.  The alleged political thriller elements of the story never quite feel anything other than cartoonish, and everyone except Langlois seems to be coasting through the whole premise on autopilot, never hitting anything near an authentic note much less tone in this untidy caper.  It’s about as big an example of cinematic stinkery has ever been committed to film, and it’ll probably even disappoint fans of the usually-likeable Guttenberg who never commands a single scene he’s in.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Man Who Wasn’t There (1983) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Under SciFiHistory.Net’s ‘Monsters Of A Sort’ category heading, I take a look at features that kinda/sorta dabble into sensibilities very close to (if not downright demonstrative of) Film Noir and/or the unconventional screen mystery.  Despite maintaining a heavy (and near constant) diet of genre projects, I’m not always satiated by just SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror; so I do like – from time-to-time – to add a little substance from these other realms.  It helps to widen my perspective.  It helps to cleanse the palate.  It keeps me fresh … and a ‘fresh me’ is good for all of you, my faithful readers.
 
Today’s distraction: 1942’s The Mystery Of Marie Roget was based on an Edgar Allan Poe story who – from what I’ve read – based his original short on the true life crime of Mary Cecilia Rogers’ murder.  Though by all accounts Rogers’ death was never quite solved, Poe used the details of her somewhat sensational disappearance, return, and subsequent second disappearance as the setting for his own narrative, inserting a mystery in to tantalize readers with what he may’ve deduced become of the lady.  It’s also worth noting that Poe crafted the puzzle as a sequel to his popular short – “The Murders In The Rue Morgue” – bringing back his police detective C. Auguste Dupin to host the action.  Incidentally, I’ve also read that the Roget story bears the literary distinction of being the very first mystery to be based on actual events.  What better source material to adapt to the silver screen?
 
Directed by Phil Rosen with the Poe story adapted by Michael Jacoby, the feature film includes Patric Knowles, Maria Montez, Maria Ouspenskaya, John Litel, and Edward Norris in prominent roles.  Rosen would go on to helm such genre entries as 1944’s Return Of The Ape Man (with Bela Lugosi and John Carradine) and 1946’s The Shadow Returns; and Montez – possibly the box office draw here – would put her exotic good looks to great use as ‘Queen Antinea’ in 1949’s Fantasy/Adventure Siren Of Atlantis for United Artists.  Knowles had already made a name for himself with audiences for his work in The Adventures Of Robin Hood (1938) and The Wolf Man (1941), so there’s no doubting he, too, may’ve been a source of interest for audiences coming into this feature, though I have to wonder if some might’ve left it scratching their heads just a bit as I did.
 
As per my usual format, the film’s synopsis appears below.  My two cents on its construction follow.
​

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A detective tries to unravel the strange circumstances surrounding the death of a young actress.”
 
When is a mystery not a mystery?
 
Well … the simplest answer would be when there really isn’t all that much mystery to begin with, and that’s probably my biggest issue with The Mystery Of Marie Roget.  All of the action is kinda/sorta founded on the premise that our central character of Marie Roget (played by the fetching Maria Montez) being absent, and yet she turns up all of her own accord (and in perfect health) in the first reel of a trim 61-minute feature … so … what else ya got?
 
Therein lies the problem: this mystery had little left in store.
 
Now, there’s the whole business about just where the actress went and why it all had to be a secret; and this is where Marie Roget turns rather sharply out of the realm of the Fantastic into what’s otherwise a fairly predictable and conventional melodrama.  It would seem that Marie has set her homewrecking sights on Marcel (Edward Norris) – the fiancé of her own younger sister Camille (Nell O’Day) – and their romantic escapades as of late required her to vanish from the face of the Earth (seemingly) so that the two can have time together away from prying eyes.  Yes, this mystery is little more than one more exploration of the wages of sin, but it gets a little more complex in the second half when Roget does turn up dead, though the guilty culprit really isn’t all that difficult to deduce.
 
Sadly, there just isn’t all that much more to the film.  With the runtime just over one hour, it isn’t as if there’s a lot of room to fill, and the performances from top to bottom all feel a bit too routine to arouse much interest in those showing up expecting more but getting less.  Knowles is efficient but rather plain as our lead detective, and he’s not really given all that much character in interactions with sidekick fellow detective Gobelin (Lloyd Corrigan).  Their relationship is largely set up for comic relief, and I suppose it works just fine on that level.  Actress Maria Ouspenskaya makes a great turn as Madame Roget, the outspoken matriarch to the family who sets Dupin to the task of uncovering what’s up with her family; and, arguably, she makes the most of her limited screen time.
​

Now, Marie Roget does make some great use of atmosphere in the final reel: with a last-minute plot of their own creation, Dupin and Gobelin set the stage for a showdown with a masked phantom across the rooftops of Paris.  While the set-up is a bit easy and could have as easily failed as it succeeded (damn the movie logic!), such narrative trickery has been used across filmdom to rescue a premise that otherwise may’ve reached its limitations.  What transpires in the foot chase and gunplay is pretty grand, so much so that I wish Jacoby’s script could’ve undergone another overhaul to insert more of the same into everything that came before.  A bit more of such suspense could easily have made for a better film.  I guess that wasn’t meant to be; and we’re left with a lukewarm affair that barely fits the definition of Film Noir to be included as part of this release from Kino Lorber.
 
The Mystery Of Marie Roget (aka Phantom Of Paris) (1942) was produced by Universal Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to what’s reported as a brand-new HD master (from a 2K scan of the 35mm fine grain) exceptional: yes, there’s some obvious highs and lows attributed to the age of the source material, but it’s all still very, very good.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc boasts two separate audio commentaries along with the original theatrical trailer.  It’s a quality collection, indeed.
 
Alas, only mildly recommended.
 
Going into The Mystery Of Marie Roget (1942), I was entranced with the prospects of experiencing one more theatrical incarnation of the works of genre master Edgar Allan Poe.  That and one more chance to ogle Maria Montez doing what she did best in her brief career with the silver screen certainly led me to believe I was on the cusp of discovering another cinematic classic I’d never heard of in that pantheon of forgotten thrillers.  On the other end of its 61 minutes, I felt a bit cheated over how little inspiration made its way into the shadows and light, making the alleged mystery and its slim cast a bit of a slog that never quite comes together the way a good yarn should.  It’s not a complete failure … but it’s about as close as one gets considering how much talent went into the whole shebang.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Mystery Of Marie Roget – as part of their Film Noir: The Dark Side Of Cinema Collection, Volume XVI – by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Good morning, gentle readers, and welcome to January 30, 2024!

Yes, yes, and yes: it's Tuesday.  It's also early.  So allow me to be the first to ask: "How's your week going thus far?"

From the SciFiHistory.Net News Desk, I -- for one -- am hoping that it's progressing swimmingly.  Mine is doing just fine.

Well, well, well ... what to report for this morning?  I can tell you that I spent the better part of yesterday doing a lot of general addition and clean-up to the site.  The way I've plotted out my work week in this space is that I try to front-load a great deal of graphic work to Mondays; that way, I'm using my time strategically to attack a good deal of heavy time requirements for upcoming posts, the Daily Citation Pages, etc..  I also try to do a measure of clean-up to the upcoming pages, setting things up for the blog, etc.  It's a process, and over the years I've been able to refine it to the point wherein I pretty much have a solid idea of what's in store for the week.  Granted, there's so much to do that I'll never get a handle on all of it, but it definitely helps to put as much busywork in on Mondays, leaving me a bit freer the rest of the week to view and write reviews for the library of content on a consistent basis.

But ... what do I have for you, you ask?

Let's get to it ...
​

Unlike other sites, I try to avoid 'picking on' reboots.

Now, don't get me wrong: I'm probably not as fond of them -- generally speaking, I really don't think all that many consumers are -- but I try to avoid harping on them.  The entertainment industry is a big business, and its movers and shakers do try to keep a lot of balls in motion.  So many ideas are made based on the possibility of profitting from them that I think it's easy for them to short-change a reboot creatively ... and -- sigh -- that happens all too often to my liking.

Seriously, producers: if you're gonna reboot an intellectual property -- especially one as groundbreaking as was the original RoboCop (1987 -- at least have a solid reason to do so.  If you don't, then audiences will see through your efforts probably more quickly than you'd expect.  They see a 'cash grab' for what it is; and they're less inclined to embrace this new iteration no matter how hard you try to draw it back to the source material.

I look at a motion picture like 2014's RoboCop, and I ask, "Why?  Why was this film made?  What does it say differently than did the first flick?  Why did anyone feel a new version of this story was necessary?  What did we gain culturally in the process?  And -- more importantly -- what did we lose?"  When it's hard to answer any of those simple queries, then it becomes pretty clear that no authentic inspiration was behind it; and the more cynical of us tune out the possibility of any element of it being worthwhile.  It becomes a story without relevance.  No measure of special effects can distract viewers from this RoboCop's lack of soul, and it failed to inspire.

Sure, it had some modest popcorn appeal.  Folks who saw this one -- which premiered on this day back in 2014 -- might've even enjoyed an action sequence or a few laughs here and there.  They may even have appreciated a performance or two.  But was it necessary?  Did it truly add anything of substance to the greater RoboCop mythology?  I didn't think so -- not in the slightest -- and I think audiences agreed as this was one overhaul that was a bit sub-par.
​

I've taken a lot of flack over the years for not enjoying Christian Bale's work as the big screen incarnation of DC Comics' Batman.

Folks, on one level, my disinterest in him in this role truly has little to do with him.  As I've mentioned many, many, many times in this space, I grew up reading Batman in the books; so it's a character that's always been near-and-dear to me in ways I probably can't articulate as well as one would think.  Whereas other kids my age grew up with a favorite blanket or a favorite toy or some other cherished bauble, I had my time spent in the pages of that immortal comic book.  Those adventures transported me elsewhere in days that I really needed to be somewhere else, so seeing any actor step into those shoes and leave a mark on me is really daunting.  Frankly, no one will likely ever be up to the challenge, so I don't mean any disrespect to Bale and Christopher Nolan and the other movers and shakers who made some good films but didn't mean anything to me.

I did, however, enjoy Bale's work as John Connor from the Terminator Salvation movie.  Yes, yes, and yes: I realize I'm probably one of the only people on Earth who actually enjoyed that film; and what I respected about it is that the story tried to take the central character in a slightly different direction than what audiences expected and, ultimately, wanted.  Doing something different isn't always met with acclaim -- especially in a property like The Terminator saga -- but Bale still showed us a man obsessed with trying to change the future even at the risk of his own soul.  We're all flawed, and I think a flawed Connor just wasn't something audiences wanted in that time and place.

Regardless, Happy Birthday, Mr. Bale, and here's to many more!
​

​Of course, there's more.  In fact, there's a lot more.  Hell, I've even found more just this morning that I have to add.  I'll never get to adding everything I've collected -- ah, life is short, folks, so make sure you enjoy it along the way -- but that won't stop me from trying.

As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

One of the Science Fiction and Conspiracy/Thrillers that so aptly defines our collective mindset of the 1970’s was Capricorn One.
 
Written and directed by Peter Hyams, the story focused on the predicament of three astronauts – Charles Brubaker (played James Brolin), Peter Willis (Sam Waterston), and John Walker (O.J. Simpson) – who learn that their fabled moon shot is scientifically impossible to complete due to a life-threatening exposure to radiation.  But rather than exit the Space Race in shame, their government overlords decide to proceed with televising a fake moon landing all produced at a secret facility and broadcast to the world.  When the astronauts begin having second thoughts about participating in what could be the grandest hoax in human history, the mover and shakers decide it’s time to eliminate them permanently from the equation … a development that has the trio escaping their incarceration in a race against time to expose the liars and save their own lives.
 
Like it or not, Capricorn One tapped into a growing conspiracy that suggests that the United States actually did fake the NASA moon landings, a sentiment that continues to persist decades later.  While I won’t get into the particulars of that debate (mind you: I’ve read quite a bit on the subject as it’s always interested me), it’s safe to say that such a premise has fueled a good many other theatrical and television efforts that have nibbled with the same perspective.  Furthermore, storytellers have even pushed the envelope a bit further, going so far as to postulate that perhaps not you and I are wrapped up in some grand cosmic simulation but maybe the space travelers themselves could be kept in the dark with how they’ve been manipulating by secret scientific and governmental forces.
 
In fact, the 2014 television miniseries titled Ascension produced in part by the Syfy Channel took such an idea and really went remarkable distances with it.  In the show, a veritable luxury liner launched deep in the cosmos housed hundreds of Earth’s descendants, and they were all proceeding under the perception that they were on a decades-long journey to establish a new outpost for humanity on a distant world.  However, the reality of their dilemma known only to a few was that they were secretly sealed in a research facility wherein unseen scientists were privately studying the effects of deep space travel on the human psyche.  (There was a bit more to it, but, essentially, this is the narrative crux of the program.)  The fact of the matter that no one was actually sent to the stars – and that it was all an elaborately manufactured hoax – put it in similar stomping grounds as Capricorn One, teaching us that there are more ways to ‘skin’ a conspiracy than one.
 
Now I can add another title – Spain’s Órbita 9 (2017) – to the small catalogue of films that would have you believe maybe we’re not quite destined to explore the galaxy because – truth be told – maybe plumbing the depths of the human soul should truly be our Prime Directive.  While a bit imperfect here and there and perhaps a bit too committed to matters of the heart that develop along the way, the picture still is an interesting portrait of morality gone awry when humanity is pushed to reconsider its options when facing a harsh existence evolving from our inadequate stewardship of the planet Earth.
​

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Helena has lived on a spaceship since birth 20 years ago.  She meets her first human besides her dead parents when Álex repairs the oxygen supply.  Things are not what they seem.”
 
I’ve had to point out in reviews before that the more complex a film’s story – i.e. its premise, its science, its hard embrace of politics, etc. – then the more likely some of its nuances are likely going to wind up lost in translation.  While lines of dialogue get effectively translated from one language to another, there’s occasionally the problem that something now said in English – fitting the time and mouth movements of an actor speaking in their native tongue – won’t precisely convey everything needed for a development or plot twist to make perfect sense.  At best, subtitles and dubbing are imperfect techniques, and still they’re the best we’re able to do in allowing stories to cross borders from one nation to another.
 
Though I could be wrong, I suspect that’s the case with a small portion of Órbita 9.   Writer/director Hatem Khraiche has structured a morally and (mildly) politically-charged thriller that in many ways only uses the framework of the study of space travel to postulate a world wherein its simpler ‘boy meets girl’ story gets overshadowed by understandably meatier issues.  Sadly, there’s a vagueness to a good deal of it – what’s precisely happened to our world that’s required mankind to consider abandoning it; how is it that such a massively complex survival program has been relegated to such a small number of scientists; why has this possible doom produced so little interest from the general public; etc. – and I found it hard to believe that some of these issues were passed over with nothing more than a casual line of dialogue here or there.  This is the kind of story that probably would work better in novel format wherein storytellers have a easier time ‘getting into the heads’ of multiple characters; as this one develops, I never quite got a hold of each player’s psychology, and I feel a bit more was required for clarity.
 
Álex (Álex González) is the shuttlecraft technician that’s been dispatched to repair a faulty air purification module aboard Helena’s (Clara Lago) spacecraft.  As he’s the first human she’s come into contact with in years (her parents abandoned the deep-space journey when she was very young in order to give her the air and food supply necessary for successful completion), she’s understandably intrigued and eventually smitten with him.  Against his better judgment, he allows her into his temporary chambers aboard the spaceship, where they inevitably do what boys and girls do best.  But once he disembarks, the audience discovers that Helena is little more than a guinea pig: her shuttle is not out amongst the heavens but, rather, in a subterranean bunker where Álex and Hugo (Andrés Parra) have been studying the effects of long-term isolation on individuals.  Apparently, such journeys have not boded well on our species, and these two scientists have been tasked with figuring out how to solve this impasse in order to ensure our survival from a future cataclysm.
 
By borrowing the tapestry of Science Fiction, Órbita 9 does occasionally feel like a solid conspiracy yarn.  This organization apparently has the backing of some global cabal, and the compound itself has all the markings of the usual secret government facility that’s been tucked away somewhere in the wilds at the behest of the military-industrial complex.  Khraiche’s script makes some allusions to the fact that the research has been going on for some time – there are more bunkers equipped with shuttle interiors that Álex monitors privately from his apartment – and, when necessary, it becomes clear that those involved at the highest levels of the operation aren’t opposed to using lethal force to obtain whatever objectives they deem necessary.  Still, I just wish all involved could’ve gone to great lengths to clear up some confusion they create along the way.
​

Because this story at its core remains a ‘boy meets girl’ archetype, Álex winds up betraying a long-established commitment to ‘the science’ when he falls in love with Helena, breaks her out of the facility, and throws a huge figurative monkey wrench into the gears he’s so ably supported all of these years.  If he suffered some epiphany that had him finally questioning the ethics of using humans as test subjects, then Khraiche should’ve gone to greater lengths to both document and discuss it.  Instead, this all unspools rather quickly, leaving this reviewer to have a hard time accepting his reversal as anything other than a scriptwriter’s convention.  But because she loves him back – in spite of the fact that she’s had, literally, no exposure to any other human being or any other possible romantic suitor – audiences are just expected to roll with the changes.
 
There are other developments that kinda/sorta come out of nowhere; and, sadly, they, too, don’t get the kind of dissection that would’ve elevated the film to the point of seriously considering this world as it gets postulated here.  Issues of cloning and the efficacy of research are unfortunate victims of trying to somehow find a way to give these two characters a somewhat Hollywood happy ending – one where love can still triumph over all even in the face of catastrophe – when things were headed well on the path to looking decidedly grim for all of us.  At 95 minutes, Khraiche and his cast and crew breeze over the material, never pausing for any real measure of reflection but instead pushing ever onward with the hope that no one – audience included – will pause to ask important questions much less seek the proper answers.  Why, it’s almost like knowledge wasn’t required so long as our two good looking leads cared about one another, and that’s a disappointment.
 
In a world where intentions matter most, Órbita 9 strives to give everything the proper emotional context – good guys still exist, bad guys will stop at nothing, and love is all you need – leaving the coldly clinical examination of doing what’s right for all of mankind kicked to the curb.  Oh, they’ll happily manufacture a magical ending to put the proper spin on everyone’s best efforts, but pardon me if I point out the end result felt way too sugary for everything that came before that big finish.
 
Orbiter 9 (aka Órbita 9) (2017) was produced by Cactus Flower, Dynamo, Mono Films, and Telefonica Studios.  The film shows as presently available for streaming on the Netflix website.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to be of exceptional quality from start-to-finish.  Lastly, as for the special features?  Given the fact that I enjoyed this viewing via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Recommended.
 
Órbita 9 (2017) ignores what it does best – setting the stage for a true moral quandary of the ages – when love rears its ugly head as it is prone to do at the movies.  Intent on looking good and perhaps presenting Science Fiction as a great night out for the dating public, it squanders the heavy potential in favor of sticking to easy landings for its photogenic leads.  Surprisingly, it still works effectively as a thriller when it needs to, but I really wanted to see the film that it looked like it was going to be without descending into the somewhat paint-by-numbers arena of silver screen romances.  Nothing ventured means nothing gained … and who knows if the human race will survive long enough to spare itself from our otherwise inevitable doom.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Orbiter 9 (2017) as I streamed it via my very own subscription to Netflix.

​-- EZ

Good morning, gentle readers ... and -- yes, yes, yes -- it's yet one more Monday on the road of life!  Woohoo!  Why not go and greet it with both arms open wide?  Embrace it!  Embrace the challenges that go with it, big and small.  No matter what you think, it's certainly better than the alternative, am I right?

And how was your weekend?  Did you squeeze in every possible bit of rejuvenation that was humanly possible?  I know that I did.  Well ... to be fair ... it isn't as if I did tons of things.  The wifey and I caught a Saturday afternoon matinee of the (non-SciFi) film The Holdovers.  We'd wanted to see it since it came out to positive reviews, but we hadn't had the time.  Before you knew it, the flick was gone from the cineplexes, but then the recent Academy Awards announcements gave it a little bit of second life, and we jumped at the chance.  How was it?  Well ... meh.  One critic had proclaimed it good enough to be inserted into the regular holiday season as an 'all-new classic,' and (sorry) I'd strongly disagree with that.  Don't get me wrong: we enjoyed it, but it was a bit long, a bit slow, and a bit really depressing in spots.  The holiday vibe is really one of the things that saved it from being a bit too formulaic -- in my opinion -- and, still, I wouldn't christen it as a must-see every silly season.  It's definitely the kind of production that Hollywood used to embrace on a pretty regular basis, so I'm happy for that.  Otherwise?  Meh.

​Sunday evening, I found a film I'd read about on Netflix -- Orbiter 9 -- and I watched that (as the wife was away).  It was quite good -- not at all what I was expecting -- and I'll probably pen a short review on it this morning.  As a SciFi, it also had a touch of romance along with a healthy side of conspiracy whatnot; and it was exceedingly well put together.  A solid thumbs up experience.
​

Folks, like so many of you, I had an immeasureable fondness for a whole lot of Star Trek.  I grew up watching the original in TV syndication as a young guy, and Star Trek: The Next Generation had enough of the old and the new to make it appointment viewing throughout its entire run.  Star Trek: Deep Space Nine had its moments, too -- as did Star Trek: Voyager -- but I just couldn't quite get into Star Trek: Enterprise's vibe.  I gave it two seasons, and I've even tuned in and watched some of what came after that; but it just didn't quite preserve the magic the way those earlier incarnations did.

Still -- also like many of you -- I can see a stinker for what it is ... and, sure, Trek has had a few of those along the way.

In fact, one of the episodes of Star Trek TNG that's been almost universally dubbed as "one of the worst hours of the entire franchise run" turns an astonishing 30 years young today: on this day all the way back in 1994, Beverly Crusher came centerstage in the horrifically looney "Sub Rosa," a Gothic-style (kinda/sorta) ghost story (kinda/sorta) that gave her a spectral entity as a would-be lover.  Good Lord, how many non-Trek elements can you pile into a single hour?  Well, "Sub Rosa" would have you believe all of them, and it was just so terribly inadequate you won't imagine until you see it ... if you dare.

​To compound matters for the Trek legacy, the franchise also endured another blemish to its complexion when on this day back in 1996 Tom Paris and Captain Kathryn Janeway found themselves not only turned into giant salamanders but also copulating (talk about your unprofessional relationships on the job) in an adventure called "Threshold."  Good grief, was that another tepid assault on our senses or what?  I know, I know, I know: there are folks in Trekdom who think "Threshold" is actually an interesting idea, and so be it.  As I always say, to each his own.  But for me?  No thank you very much.  No, no, no thank you very much.
​

The older one gets, the more one's prone to look back at formative years and realize, yes, we had it pretty good.

And back in my day, gentle readers, actor Marc Singer was one of the genre heavyweights to rule the big and small screens.  I realize that maybe TV's V wasn't exactly up-to-snuff, as they say, but for those of us who dug it Marc Singer was the adventurous lead we needed for the time and the place.  Launched by two successful miniseries and morphed into a single season on broadcast television, V put a modern spin essentially on the whole 'War Of The Worlds' idea by having the Visitors take over our world with their charm instead of those huge tripods of the H.G. Wells tale.  Humans actually joined forces with them, so it became increasingly difficult to know who to trust, and this is what made for some compelling stories.  Heck -- if I remember correctly -- the program had a series of novels to flesh out the idea some; and there was even a short-lived comic book series.

But V wasn't Singer's only foray into the realms of the Fantastic, and fantasy fans definitely remember him as the hunky Dar in The Beastmaster franchise.  The first movie was popular enough to spawn two lesser sequels, and there was even a short-lived television series that expanded upon the man's abilities to 'talk to the animals' in ways each of us wish we could do.  While I wasn't a huge fan of the first film, it does have its charm; and I'd never say it isn't worth the time.  It's a fun flick, but it doesn't have the textual depth that Conan The Barbarian or even Conan The Destroyer mustered in their time on the silver screen.  Consider yourself warned.
​

And yet, folks, there's more ... there's a lot more ... all of it you can be thankful for and worthy of celebrating on this day in Science Fiction History.  I point it out, well, because that's what I do here.  That's my day job, as they say, and I'm thrilled to share it with all of you.  By all means, head on over to the Daily Citation Page and check it out.  There's a lot waiting for your discovery.  Here's the helpful link ...

As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

Good morning, gentle readers, and ... IT'S FRIDAY!

Woof.  What a week, am I right?

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for another weekend.  I have no big plans, but having no big plans sometimes is the best way one can go about truly enjoyed a good weekend.  We might take in a movie -- we've had our eye on one for a few weeks -- but as it isn't a Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror I won't trouble you with my choices in this space for now.

This morning, I've already crafted and posted a column about my support of the 'From A Certain Point Of View' anthologies that have come out from Random House in celebration of Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return Of The Jedi.  Seriously, folks: if you haven't seen them, then I'm strongly encouraging you to check them out.  Basically, they're short story collections, each one crafted to tie-in with the people, places, and events of their respective films; and they're nothing short of fantastic.  I like a good short story, and the ones in these collections have been very entertaining.  They're not about messages.  They're not about ideologies, though a certain political perspective might play out as a plot point here and there.  What they are, basically, are just fabulous fleshing out of what already exists in some small way within the wider Star Wars mythology; and I've had nothing but fun enjoying each and every one of them.  Highly, highly recommended.

So ... what else do I have 'on tap' for you in this post?
​

Folks, folks, folks ... I've taken a lot of flak -- and I do mean A LOT OF FLAK -- over the years regarding my opinion of Babylon 5.

Let me be clear: I didn't dislike it.  (I know, I know, I know ... syntax rules aside, I'm sticking with that statement.)

My issue with it is that when I tried to get into it via its first airing on television -- "Midnight On The Firing Line" premiered on this date all the way back in 1994 -- I just couldn't.  Honestly, I have no reason why.  Production quality -- mostly -- was very good.  I love the actors, and the cast of characters was definitely something to behold.  For whatever reason, I just found that first season an incredible slog, especially early on.  It took some time to find itself in the proper gear; and -- once it did -- I think it became a vastly better program.  But, again, right out of the gate?  It just didn't win me over, so I tuned it out.

Once it came out on home video, I purchased the first season to give it a binge-style viewing ... and I honestly felt the same way.  The pacing felt off; and -- while I started to appreciate even more what the talented actors and actresses were doing in their roles -- I grew even more frustrated with the fact that I couldn't quite get its vibe.  For each of us, some shows can be hit or miss, and we either push through that or we find a way to make it work.  I just couldn't.

Anyway, flash forward a few years to the emergence of SciFiHistory.Net.  I was doing what I do, extending birthday wishes to all of the smiling faces who've made an impact in the realms of the Fantastic, when -- lo and behold -- the actor Jerry Doyle actually responded to the tweet I had blasted on Twitter about his birthday.  Not only had he read the Tweet, but he had also followed the link to my site and read what I had written about his work in the show (which was complimentary but I admitted I struggled to get into the show).  Well ... what happened?  The guy actually took the time to Tweet me a reply, encouraging me to give the program one more shot, insisting that it definitely got better.  So out of nothing more than respect I took the man up on his challenge.

Over the next few months, I purchased every season of Babylon 5, and I made it through.  I even picked up Crusade -- for good measure -- but I won't go into that for personal reasons.  Let's just say ... no.  I'll let that be.

In the end, yes, as Doyle promised, Babylon 5 grew vastly more important and remains one of the big sagas that helped defined what SciFi and Fantasy storytelling could be like on the small screen.  While I didn't love it as much as its most ardent fans, I finally found the appreciation for it that I believe it's owed ... but that wouldn't have happened if Doyle hadn't prompted me to do so.

Happy birthday, Babylon 5!
​

​Rather than ‘pile on’ when faced with all the current negativity surrounding the wider Star Wars franchise, I’m going to offer up an alternative.
 
In case you’ve missed the latest dust-up, activist director Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy has unnecessarily created a controversy all of her own when she recently reframed her earlier arguments about men and film when she told a CNN reporter: “We’re in 2024, and it’s about time that we had a woman come forward to shape a story in a galaxy far, far away.”  Think what you may, but we here at SciFiHistory.Net thought that Obaid-Chinoy smacks of everything that’s wrong within the entertainment business today, that being of hiring a candidate for a job based almost entirely on one’s gender (it would seem) as opposed to credentials that indicate this storyteller both understands an Intellectual Property and can effectively add one more chapter that fandom will embrace.  Given the lady’s already established preference of “making men uncomfortable” and the fact that – despite Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company’s best effort – Star Wars is largely a male-centered space saga, her comments seem tone deaf and equally divisive.
 
However, I’ve already cautioned readers not to make too much of Ms. Obaid-Chinoy’s obvious grab for publicity.
 
Yes, yes, and yes: there’s a layer of arrogance to her persona, but that’s not uncommon for a filmmaker who has risen quickly to a level of prominence amongst her peers and has been repeatedly rewarded for exposing the evils of Eastern civilization.  (Sorry, folks, but there’s truth in them thar hills.)  Follow her level of thinking, and – to a degree – there’s some application here in the Outer Rim.  Vader’s a man, and men are bad.  Palpatine’s a man, and men are bad.  Moff Gideon’s a man, and men are bad.  See where this is going?  In fact, I’ve both watched and read so much Star Wars I can assure you that one thing we haven’t seen all that much of is – ahem – bad women.  Respectfully, they’re a rarity in this sector of space, so maybe someone should instead give Ms. Obaid-Chinoy a primer on Star Wars lore.
 
As an olive branch, might I recommend a bit of reading?
 
So far as this reader is concerned, one of the most fascinating series to come from Random House on the whole Star Wars scene has been the ‘From A Certain Point Of View’ collection.  The release dates of these anthologies were coordinated with the 40th anniversaries of the original films – Star Wars (1977), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), and Return Of The Jedi (1983) – giving each volume the chance to present short stories that creatively intersect the people, places, and events of each production.  In other words, the adventures of From A Certain Point Of View: The Empire Strikes Back might focus in on a secondary character shown briefly on screen, but the story enhances this participation by giving it greater depth or, in some cases, a completely different perspective entirely.  Thus, each books adds something to the wider Star Wars legacy by dabbling within established continuity.
 
Rather than push a message or mash a political perspective where it needn’t be, these books exist to simply entertain …
 
… and this reader has found them wonderful.
 
Folks interested in picking up a copy of From A Certain Point of view are encouraged to follow the links below.  Merely click on a box, and you’ll travel through hyperspace to the destination of your choosing.
​

As I’ve said elsewhere on the Information Superhighway and even in a post on SciFiHistory.Net, my offense at Ms. Obaid-Chinoy’s statements about the galaxy far, far away is that they smack of ignorance.  Apparently, her journeys to these worlds and visits with these characters hasn’t shown her fully that – unlike other franchises – Star Wars is one that since its inception has been deep and rich with diversity.  Since the beginning, it has had men.  It has had women.  It has had aliens.  It has had droids.  It has had creatures.  It has had machines.  It has had technology, and it has had vehicles and ideas and objects and planets and worlds that have spurred our collective imagination.  Whether these stories have been written by males or females has never mattered; and so long as whatever adventures yet unexplored still fit within that basic rubric, fans will always embrace new chapters with our without one’s slavish devotion to ‘The Message.’
 
In the spirit of fostering amity, I heartily encourage the lady to pick up these volumes and educate herself to the vast diversity that’s already been on display without her assistance before casting aspersions on what has come before.  These stories are fantastic and fanciful, and every one of them -- regardless of quality or relevance – fits damn near perfectly without trying to foist an ideology on any of the – cough cough – 71 different genders allegedly out there in our world today.  They transport us out there; and – by doing so – they relieve of us the trials and tribulations of daily life … exactly what entertainment was designed to do.
 
Save your gender politics for the Oscars ceremony where they belong.
 
Instead, may I suggest: “These are the droids you’re looking for.”
 
May the Force be with you.  Always.
 
 -- EZ

Good morning, gentle readers, and welcome to Thursday, January 25, 2024.

Wow ... can you believe it?  Why, it seemed like just yesterday we were starting this all new year, and -- as of today -- we're almost done with its first month, January.  Boy oh boy, does time fly whether or not you're having fun, am I right?

Whatever the truth there may be, I've not a whole lot to report this morning.  Oh, don't take that to mean that there isn't a grand amount of information deserving of your attention today because nothing could be further from the truth.  I do my part to place as much relevant information into those Daily Citation Page as is humanly possible, and -- with also being humble -- I really do think that there's plenty of information up there worth a gander.  You can take that to the bank, my friends.

Behind the scenes, I've been working on -- yes, yes, and yes -- a few more reviews to add up onto the MainPage.  The flicks have been -- sigh -- only OK, if I'm being perfectly honest.  I do get a solid handful of requests for new releases, and they're not always top notch entertainment.  Because I tend to be forgiving, I'm perfectly happy reviewing and promoting smaller, independent, and older flicks as I find them more interesting than a lot of mainstream stuff.  But I'm kinda/sorta in a rut as January through March tends to be a gruesome time of year wherein not exactly the hottest features get released.  It's an interesting portfolio of projects ... but it does occasionally get challenging for me to muster some greater focus.  Just bein' honest.

I'm torn here, peeps, so let me share.

I was considering do a full review of Chuck Dixon's "The Siege Of The Black Citadel" for readers.  I finished it late last night (couldn't sleep so I was up a few extra hours in the dark); and -- having picked it up after watching the forthcoming Arrow Films' new home video releases of the Schwarzenegger flicks -- I was hungry to continue the experience further.  (I had purchased this one last year, but I didn't get around to reading it until now.)

But here's my thing ...

Fans of the Robert E. Howard property, frankly, tend to be a bit vicious in their opinions of follow-ups to the Conan saga.  In my experience, they either hate them or they like to pile on anyone who has any opinion other than theirs with respect to these random or errant continuations.  (I say this as I encountered nothing but controversy in dealing with them during my years as an Amazon.com Top 1,000 reviewer.)  Given that I prefer to avoid a certain type of controversy in this space, I'm less inclined to give this short novel -- really, it's more of a novella with some graphic inserts -- a full once-over.

Second ... well, yeah, as I said above, it's really a bit short.  A honest review of it would amount to little more than how well the story was told (which is very good) and whether or not it felt authentic to the wider Conan universe.  (Functionally, I thought so, and I say this entirely on my memories of reading them years ago.)  There both is and isn't a big climax -- it's kinda/sorta brought to a close not so much my Conan's efforts and more to the band of characters he's involved with -- so readers showing up to see the Cimmerian in the same muscular prowess as the films are bound to be a little underwhelmed.

So ... I'm gonna leave it at that.  What I wrote right there services just enough to let you know I found it a middling affair -- good at parts, a bit off in others -- and let's hope that averts the Howard fanatics from releasing the hounds on me, as it were.
​

A few years back, a very polite fellow reached out and wondered if I -- as the web's self-proclaimed steward of All Things Genre -- had ever put some serious thought into ... ahem ... both tracking and reporting on all of the flicks that had come out in Science Fiction and Fantasy that had more of a pornographic focus.

Now, don't take this the wrong way, peeps.

After swapping a few emails, it became clear that the guy wasn't looking for nudes.  (snicker snicker)  Apparently, he was interested himself in doing a more extensive article on the subject matter, but he was interested to see if I had gone to any special cataloguing of these films on my own.  Clearly, if I had, then it would be of use to him in ways one can only imagine.  Eventually, I explained to him that I hadn't -- I Googled the topic and pointed him in the direction of a few longer features that had some listings -- but the idea has always stuck in my mind that having some means to find pictures of particular focus would be of historical value.

Again, stick with me here.

For example, suppose I did a daily feature blog/column called "It's Alive, It's Alive," and this post would detail any and all Frankenstein-related highlights from history centered on thi day.  (I dabbled with this some time back -- using Marvel as a centerpoint -- with some posts titled 'All Roads Lead To Marvel.')  This kind of specialized focus could be applied to any number of interesting subsets -- i.e. on this day in Star Wars history, on this day in Star Trek history, All Roads Lead To Marvel, etc. -- and I think it might be a way to continue broadening the appeal to all of SciFiHistory.Net.

What does this have to do with ... erm ... porn films in genre?

Well, not all that long back, I started adding a tag to them when I celebrate anniversaries on Twitter (X).  When I see them -- and I remember to do it -- I add the hashtag #HeroErectus to the titles.  This way, if a user wants to go on Twitter (X) and search #HeroErectus, one can find all the releases I've managed to correct for posterity's sake ... or is that posterior?

On this day in 1978, La fille a la fourrure enjoyed its first release ever.
​

That's all I have for now, gentle readers, but I'll be toiling away as I always do, trying to widen the scope for those who traffic in this space.  It's what brings me joy, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Here's the link for today's goodies ...

As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

High schoolers and college kids have always suffered from the greatest degree of personal angst.
 
In fact, just ask ‘em.  They’ll tell you so.
 
To them, everything is a crisis, from the latest pimple to what they’re going to do with their lives all the way down to what they’re going to wear to school today.  It’s a universal experience – everyone who undergoes whatever rites of passage is common to the teen years is bound to be scared in some way, shape, or form by some sad event – so audiences tend to be forgiving of yet one more look into ‘the best days of your life!’  Occasionally, a film comes along that taps some new angle on adolescence, and this crowd pleaser puts all of us back in high school or college once more, perhaps even has us reaching for nostalgia instead of watching what unfurls on the silver screen.
 
What we become as a consequence of suffering all of that emotional duress, I’m told, is just the first step toward adulthood … but if +1 (aka Plus One) is any indication, then some of us may have left a pretty astoundingly high body count in our wake!
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Three college friends hit the biggest party of the year, where a mysterious phenomenon disrupts the night, quickly descending into a chaos that challenges their friendships – and whether they can stay alive.”
 
David (played with curious emotional detachment by Rhys Wakefield) and Jill (a fetching Ashley Hinshaw) have hit an impasse in their two-year relationship, and nothing says ‘teen comedy’ like bringing these two sparring lovebirds together for one last party of the summer.  It’s a chance at reconciliation or maybe even a chance to redemption or, at least, resolution.  However, something is definitely afoot on a cosmic level as a meteorite interacts with the city’s power supply to create a dimension of overlapping timeframes.  Suddenly, the house is packed with two versions of every person, and, before all is said and done, only one of each can and will be left alive.
 
How’s that for an identity crisis?
 
A dark and demented fairy tale, +1 is arguably one of the most unusual cinematic hybrids I’ve ever seen.  Who would’ve thought that a mash-up of the ultimate teen comedy with the fantastical elements of parallel dimensions would work?  Truth be told, it doesn’t work all that well – or, at least, all that consistently well – throughout the tale’s seemingly endless ups and downs; but it’s the kind of film that’s probably destined for cult status amongst those who find it refreshingly original if for no other reason that it is.  Written and directed by Dennis Iliadis, +1 reminds me in several ways of 2007’s superior Timecrimes: both films expose the increasing difficulty of trying to right what went wrong in matters of chronology without loosing one of those insufferable paradoxes that’ll rip space and time apart as we know it.
​

Largely, the similarities end there as +1 ends up being less and less about the science of mastering time travel, instead following the path of least resistance by embracing the youth experience of the mashed-up protagonists and their antagonizing temporal counterparts.  In short, somebody has to die … and it ain’t gonna be me … or is that me?  Wait … is that you?  But if you’re me, then who are you?  See what I mean?  It’s best not to be all that much thought into the premise and just go with the flow, even if that means a rather quick descent into slasher territory only if everyone got the chance to kill.
 
Wakefield – as a lead – isn’t particularly impressive.  He spends far too much of this story on a spiritual quest: he desperately wants to find a way to get back into Jill’s good graces (and bodily charms), even if that means killing her original so that he can spend the rest of the evening with her alternate (whom he’s properly fooled thanks to an earlier scene).  Thus, he wastes an awful lot of the remaining screen time wandering about, appearing sullen or lost and just not very interesting as a lead.  By contrast, Hinshaw’s Jill looks terrific – she’s imbued with the right balance of teen innocence and budding womanhood – but the scenes between her and David (both versions!) lack any palatable chemistry.
 
Director Iliadis clocks far better mileage with the film’s secondary relationship – one far more convincing to the nature of high school or college make-out scenes – focusing on David’s pal, Teddy (Logan Miller), and Melanie (Natalie Hall).  Theirs is the typical ‘brush with sex’ that takes place in most raunchy teen comedies, and that’s precisely how it plays out … only once.  When their respective doppelgängers show up, the chemistry is understandably (and comically) spoiled, though that doesn’t stand in one another’s way of trying to make sense out of not only their budding hormones but also a shared temporal anomaly.
 
At 96 minutes, +1 still feels a bit overlong – with several sequences treacherously overwrought to the point of confusion – and the circularity of it all starts to fall apart before the big and massively bloody climax.  But scoring solely on the merits of a film holding one’s interest bodes well for this little sleeper.  Not quite funny but not quite serious either, it’s definitely one that kept me thinking until the last frame.
 
+1 (aka Plus One) (2013) is produced by Process Productions in association with Lola Visual Effects and Hydraulx Entertainment.  DVD distribution is being handled by MPI Media Group through IFC Midnight.  As for the technical specifications, the film is accented with quality sights and sounds, though I found some of the special effects to appear a bit juvenile compared to some of the better efforts available today.  But if it’s special features you want?  Look no further than this disc as there’s a commentary track, some behind-the-scenes shorts exploring the said effects, deleted scenes, cast and crew interviews, a poster gallery, cast auditions, and multiple theatrical trailers.  Now that’s what I call “special” features, indeed!  Nicely prepared!
 
Recommended.
 
I’d stop just short of saying that I enjoyed the entirety of +1 (aka Plus One).  Rather, it’s one of those experiences I’d describe as frustrating as it was interesting, as ground-breaking as it was dismissive, and as exciting as it was … well … dull.  The script tries to weave strategically through one mind-blowing night in the lives of perhaps too many primary and secondary characters.  While it’s easy to score points for originality, it’s also easy to lose them with a relatively lackluster presentation.  Also, our two leads fail to muster any relatable chemistry – though theirs is in part a frustration we’ve all been through (wanting to recapture a lost love) – but the far more interesting pairing ends up in the quirkiest menage a trois Freud would’ve imagined!
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at MPI Media Group provided me with an advance DVD copy of +1 (aka Plus One) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ