Folks, never forget that one of my personal mottos has always been -- and always will be -- "don't expect me to agree."

It's in that spirit that I have to share that despite having some truly great moments and some killer laughs I've never been all that much a fan of 1987's Spaceballs.

Yes, yes, and yes: I think Mel Brooks is probably one of the funniest storytellers around.

Yes, yes, and yes: I can appreciate the degree of lunacy that he tried to bring to Science Fiction.

And yet ... I just didn't find the film all that entertaining.

My take on Brooks' evolution as a filmmaking is that the older he got the more childish a lot of his screen antics became.  The themes, characters, and ideas work on the level of your average fifth grader, and -- sigh -- I've just never been one who found that stuff all that comical.

Once more, this isn't to suggest in any way that it's film not worth seeing once.  It boasts some great comic work by Brooks along with the late John Candy and the always reliable Rick Moranis.  Daphne Zuniga is particularly fetching in it, as well, and the late comedienne Joan Rivers knocks her delivery out of the park just as one would expect her to.  My problems with it is that Spaceballs kinda bends and weaves a bit too often: it never stays on the whole Star Wars mentality uniquely enough for me to embrace the silliness as I wanted to.  This underscores my long-established belief that Science Fiction and Comedy are exceeding hard to blend and please fans of both genres ... but it is what it is.

I do, however, find comfort in the fact that Brooks actually consulted George Lucas on the project.  As the legend goes, Brooks wanted to make sure that 'he got it all right,' and -- at a private screening while the thing was still being assembled -- the Star Wars creator is said to have laughed himself silly.  He apparently even offered the services of his effects company -- Industrial Light And Magic -- to help perfect the aesthetic needed to truly 'sell the sizzle,' and cinematic history was made.  (If I remember correctly, Lucas' only request to Brooks was that there be no product merchandising tied in to Spaceballs, and allegedly the funnyman had no problem agreeing.)

So ... laugh yourself silly if that's what you wish ... and do so by celebrating Spaceballs in all of its comical glory on its birthday.

-- EZ

Confession time: I didn't grow up a fan of the original The Twilight Zone.

Oh, oh, oh ... now hold on.  This isn't to say that I liked or disliked it.  The honest truth was that -- back in my day with TV broadcast airings being what they were -- the Rod Serling classic just wasn't aired at any time that I could sit down and catch it uninterrupted at any given time.  It was one of those shows that, frankly, only poked into rotation sparingly every now and then; so I just didn't have nearly the level of exposure as other media pundits my age had.  I caught enough of it during the early 1980's to know that it was something I'd wished I'd seen more of, something that I'm still rectifying when time permits even to this day.

But following the industry news as closely as I did, I was highly interested in the big screen event that Twilight Zone: The Movie looked like it was going to be.

For those who don't know it, however, the film's publicity suffered a major blow when actor Vic Morrow and two children actors were killed in an on-the-set accident involving a helicopter spiralling out of control.  The full details of the tragedy have been the stuff of Hollywood legend as well as a few non-fiction books (one of which I'm intending to pick up and read); but -- as Tinseltown loves to conceal the truth of its nefariousness -- the details still remain a bit shrouded in mystery.  One thing is certain: Steven Spielberg has apparently done everything possible to distance himself from this debacle for decades.  Though the particulars have always been tied to director John Landis -- who as I understand as never quite accepted his responsibility with it -- I've read that the two directors have never much interacted with one another since that time.

​According to IMDB.com, Twilight Zone: The Movie premiered on this day (in Canada and the U.S.) back in 1983; and the film only went on to be a respectable hit with audiences ... and why not?  Serling was one of the truly original voices in visual storytelling, so using a good many of his ideas in a theatrical adaptation seemed like about a good idea at the time as could anything.  A Google.com search shows that it grossed a solid $42 million dollars on a small $10 million investment.

I do recall seeing this one once or twice on the silver screen back in the day; and I'm quite sure I watched it on home video probably in the late 80's or early 90's.  Still, I haven't seen it since them.  Maybe I'll add it to my Rainy Day List for a revisitation and review on the site.  I've also read that sequels were planned; but the stigma of an avoidable accident had Hollywood suits avoiding this property -- in theaters, at least -- like the plague.

Happy Anniversay, Twilight Zone ... and, yes, we all do want to see something really scary!

-- EZ
​

Despite my saying it over and over and over again, I often find myself having to remind readers that, "No, I have not seen every movie I cover on SciFiHistory.Net."

Now, of course, if I've penned a review of a flick, then I've seen it.  But because I don't think there's a single living being on our planet who can yet claim to have experienced every single picture I really shouldn't have to say as such.  I understand how appearances might suggest otherwise; though I've watched a vast assortment of cinematic filler I just don't recall (due to the passage of time, age, and memory), I've probably stumbled into more than most ... a fact I can certainly live with.

In any event ...

IMDB.com reports that Dinosaurus! enjoyed its very first theatrical presentation on this day back in 1960 for the good people of New Orleans, Louisiana.  (No, I've no idea how New Orleans was selected for the premiere event, but if you do then feel free to reach out and inform me.)  Another exclusive premiere would follow in July; and then the motion picture would get its full U.S. theatrical run in August of the same year.  As was the case back then, the feature would roll out in countries around the world based on studio contractual commitments throughout the rest of the year and well into 1961.  For reasons I'm also unaware, Dinosaurus was given a theatrical re-release (in France) in 1977, so 'thank the maker' that it didn't disappear into obscurity as easily as have so many other genre presentations.

​The film was directed by Irvin S. Yeaworth, Jr., a man previously attached to such big screen outings as 1958's The Blob and 1959's 4D Man.  Interestingly enough, IMDB.com also reports (in its Trivia citations) that Steve McQueen -- who had worked with Yeaworth on The Blob -- was originally attached to headline this adventure as well; however, it's a bit unclear as to whether or not his non-involvement here is owed to McQueen or Yeaworth choosing otherwise.  (There are suggestions that McQueen wasn't exactly easy to work with, but rumors are what rumors are.)

Lastly, it does look like the fine folks at Kino Lorber re-released this one on home video (DVD and Blu-ray) back in 2019.  Their pressing is billed as a 'Special Edition,' and the Amazon.com citation indicates that the disc included a few special features.

Happy Birthday, Dinosaurus!  Here's hoping your mighty roar never fades!

-- EZ

In the vast catalogue of space exploration films, audiences have learned that – if anything – it ain’t safe for us out there.
 
Early entries were largely fraught with the difficulties of surviving in the Final Frontier due to a lack of favorable elements like air, gravity, food, and water.  As the projects grew more complex, vicious alien species were introduced into the equation; and their superior skills or vastly greater intellect showed that we weren’t as high up the food chain as our comfortable confines on Earth had led us to believe.  In most First Contact situations, those Earthly explorers found out rather quickly that we’d have to develop better weapons to defend ourselves from such interstellar critters or we’d face certain inescapable doom in our quest to go boldly where no man had gone before.  While there have been plenty of times wherein crews outsmarted the dastardly alien bastards, space remained risky business; and any attempt to break the bonds of our world should never be undertaken lightly.
 
Why, even at some delicate point – once audiences grew mature enough to accept the premise and Hollywood censors relaxed their moral standards just a bit – the prospect of (ahem) alien rape entered the equation.  The scene wherein the dreaded Xenomorph infamously exercised its sexual aggression on an unfortunate crewmate of the Nostromo (in 1979’s Alien) was softened for years – until a Director’s Cut saw it re-assembled – but just the very thought of its existence showed that such carnal transgressions weren’t impossible to be captured on celluloid.  Ready or not, the space race eventually went there in 1981 – maybe not the first time but one of the more memorable – with the theatrical release of Inseminoid (aka Horror Planet).
 
Director Norman J. Warren wasn’t immune to putting women through some difficult emotional, social, and physical pacing on the silver screen.
 
In 1968, he delivered Her Private Hell to audiences, a kinda/sorta snapshot behind-the-scenes into the life of a pretty young lady who finds herself exposed – in more ways than one – to life as a model for risqué print magazines.  One need only look no further than the poster for his Satan’s Slave (1976) – a fully nude fetching lass lies strapped to a sacrificial altar while a knife dangles precariously overhead about to pierce her virginal goodness – to see that the Horror feature was interested in a bit of gratuitousness.  In 1979’s Spaced Out, Warren gave it all a jovial spin – the film is billed and remembered as a sex comedy – with female aliens arriving on Earth and finding men worth their – ahem – “scientific experimentation,” but the pattern remains the same: skin and SciFi were a match made in cinema Heaven.
 
Of course, this brings us to Inseminoid …
 
(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 crew of interplanetary archaeologists is threatened when an alien creature impregnates one of their members, causing her to turn homicidal and murder them one by one.”
​

A quick Google.com search suggests that sexual fantasies haven’t much changed over the years.  While many of the vivid dreams really are little more than the human need to spice things up here and there, there remain those that hint of power and submissiveness playing into the roles we may not talk about as freely.  This could be as simple as feeling a bit of pain with one’s pleasure, or it might grow more psychologically complex, such as role-playing wherein one partner is entirely dominated by another, even so far as being – ahem – forced to participate.
 
It’s into this delicate feeding ground that Inseminoid really only ventures circumstantially.  While a great deal has probably been written about the film which relates directly to the – ahem – seminal moment wherein a female explorer is inseminated (or is she?) by some lumbering alien creature, the truth is that the moment is rendered far more as subtext than it is literally.  With a bit of theatrical insinuation on director Warren’s part, one might interpret the scene involving the sex act in a limited variety of ways.  Still, there’s a man – well, an alien one – and a woman; and it’s pretty clear that what takes place is far from consensual.
 
On a distant planet, a crew of archaeologists have been tasked with studying the remains of some non-human civilization.  Not long after discovering some hieroglyphics suggesting some hints to a past history, the scientists discover a new chamber housing some previously undocumented crystals.  A freak explosion injures a colleague, putting this planetary base on lockdown.  But a two-person team caught outside in the labyrinth of stone tunnels comes face-to-face with one of the remaining aliens … and this E.T. is interested in perpetuating its own species!
 
In no time, Sandy (played by Judy Geeson) wakes into a dream-like state.  Lying fully naked on a medical table, she sees images of the station’s physician hovering over her with a hypodermic needle in hand.  But these visions slowly blur, giving her a fleeting glimpse of some thing standing at the foot, spreading her legs, and inserting a tube with curious liquid into her most private of areas.  Sleep returns, and she’s eventually found by her peers and returned to the safety of the base.  Before long, however, she begins to slip between her normal state and a desire to kill those that she once saw as friends.
 
Now, as a critic, I don’t often get ‘into the weeds.’  I’ve always believed that you can take what you want from art – there could be dozens of messages in any picture, and it’s up to each of us to determine what those possible statements might mean, if anything.  What I see may not be what you see, and that’s a universal truth that’s existed since the dawn of cave paintings.  This is why I’ve always encouraged my readership to take my observations with plenty of grains of salt.  Ultimately, you get to decide what you like: I see it as my task to usually point out the worthy attractions on our shared journey.  Nothing more.
 
Still, I think it’s safe to suggest that Inseminoid taps into a primal fear that females experience in their role as mothers.
 
No one wishes to give birth to a madman.  No one hopes for the very worst for a child.  It’s entirely human to question what you might be bringing into this world, and it’s equally compassionate to suspect that the world might undeserving of whatever goodness, mercy, and grace this new child might bring with it.  This is where I believe screenwriters Nick and Gloria Maley were heading in their conception of Inseminoid’s odd set of circumstances; and they saw the fabric of Science Fiction and Fantasy as the cloak needed to swaddle their metaphorical infant inside.  The web they spin is really little more than a monstrous whodunit – a space-based Ten Little Indians by way of Agatha Christie – and I’d argue those hoping to score wider intellectual pursuits from this effort are a bit confused.  Inseminoid has no deep cultural or spiritual meaning: this is all about exploiting what goes bump in the night … and it just happens to be a homicidal woman artificially impregnated with bloodthirsty space twins.
 
Beyond this, Inseminoid – as a story – really makes little sense.
​

Its characters are all paper thin, and they’re about as blandly unexceptional as has ever been committed to film.  Oh, one or two of them occasionally do something to hint at distinctiveness, but because the formula here is really crafted to scare audiences silly such bold and decisive character traits serve as nothing more than a delay for the next body to drop.  While Geeson’s performance is a bit hammy in spots, she also scores respectable marks in conveying the unimaginable agony of both alien rape as well as the fear of not knowing what exactly is gestating inside her womb.  The birth sequence is effective even if some see it as little more than unbridled screams punctuating the stillness of some endless cave.  (Could there be any greater visual metaphor for life itself?)
 
But, sadly, that’s really all a film like Inseminoid brings to the table.
 
Its jump scares are acceptable though a bit underplayed.  The few fight sequences devolve into some of the – ahem – worst choreography I think I’ve seen.  Neither the Maleys nor director Warren really give viewers enough of the intellectual substance to fully grasp the particulars of when and where we are – much less why the story is relevant – because in the end all that matters were the frights experienced along the way.  It’s never clear whose point-of-view matters here – the script eventually settles on telling Sandy’s story, but I’m never inspired to think anything strongly about her struggle one way or another.  She deserves my pity, right?  She deserves my empathy?  Or is that sympathy?  But … if she’s honestly being controlled by the demons inside her, why do I feel like she’s mostly a willing participant … if only to protect her baby?  Delivering characters I can root for is the core to any good storytelling, and that’s chiefly what’s missing from this locked box killfest.
 
The murk is strong with this one, and I arrived at the big finish thinking, “Yeah … so what?”
 
Some otherwise interesting set design might tickle the fancy of those of us who still appreciate how craftsmen and craftswomen brought these places to life in the era before CGI; and yet that’s not enough to give this film anything greater than a passing glance.  Or maybe I’ll just leave a card with money at the baby shower.
 
Inseminoid (1981) was produced by Jupiter Film Productions.  The film shows presently available for purchase digitally or physically via a variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to be quite good consistently throughout the film.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
Inseminoid (1981) is clearly the product of its day.  With a simple Horror story set on a distant world, audiences were given little more than a brief carnival attraction – a bit of harmless exploitation – to fill a respectable 90 minutes or so with.  Its performances work fine because they were never intended as anything more than sideshow attractions to the center ring of an alien-in-wait which turns out to be little more than rubber and slime.  Some nice production work gets wasted in something that most folks will, likely, never see; and, yes, that’s always a shame.  Geeson delivers (snicker snicker) conventionally and as the mother of gruesome twins.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Inseminoid (1981) as I viewed it with my own subscription to Amazon Prime Video.

-- EZ

(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 space trucker and his cute fiancé are on their way from a space station to Earth with an unknown cargo.  When space pirates hijack them, 5000 disintegrator robots are found in the cargo.”
 
There are times when even I – yours truly, editor-in-chief of SciFiHistory.Net – prefer to dismiss any chance of histrionics and just call a film like I see it.  In that spirit, let me assure you that Space Truckers is not a particularly good story.
 
Now … as a film, yes, it might be mildly entertaining.  It might have a few interesting ideas here and there.  It might offer up a kinda/sorta guilty pleasure experience for those who really are more interested in throwing on a film more for noise and giggles than anything else.  It certainly isn’t a project that necessarily breaks any barriers, nor is it a yarn that might somehow transcend space and time in the years ahead and get inducted into the National Film Registry for its continuing contributions to the art form.  It’s negligible, at best, and forgettable, at worst.
 
Hell, let me go a step further …
 
In the catalogue of Stuart Gordon films – of which I’m a fan and will admit to having seen quite a few – I’m not even sure how memorable it is.
 
I think that it does demonstrate a time wherein the storyteller probably had some of the best financial backing of his career – it would certainly appear so given this reasonably star-studded affair and extensive effects work – and perhaps that required him to pull back on some of his darker tendencies.  This talented writer, director, and producer was truly ‘put on the map’ with features like Re-Animator (1985), From Beyond (1986), and Dolls (1986).  One might argue that his career trajectory at this point turned – success brings with it greater expectations from studios and suits – and he arguably left some fascination with more subversive topics behind, delivering 1989’s Robot Jox as about as demonstrative of crowd-pleasing fare as could be.  It’s a grand adventure – I’ve privately dubbed it ‘the best Tom Cruise film that Tom Cruise never made’ – and I encourage all to see it.  But Gordon still is revered for his earlier treasures more than anything else, and I say that’s definitely deserved.
​

If anything, Space Truckers probably earned a bit of street credit (or notoriety) from its cast, which is a curious assortment of names big and small from its era.  Dennis Hopper got top billing in the role of ‘John Canyon,’ the space trucker of the title; and he shared most of his screen time with Stephen Dorff, Debi Mazar, and a young Charles Dance.  Rather than recount all of the familiar faces, let me get to the story particulars I find important, and then I’ll do a bit of dissection of the narrative and what it all might mean.
 
Truckers opens with a fabulous preamble to set the stage for some of what’s to follow: an installation’s armed task force is wholly wiped out by the new age of killbots – which are immeasurably as cool as the sound thankfully – engineered by Dr. Nabel (played by Dance).  Company CEO E.J. Saggs (Shane Rimmer) apparently has his sights set on other aspirations which might put these automatons to illegal uses; and – as often happens in the early stage of any founding conspiracy – this means that Nabel is necessarily expendable.  As such, we’re led to believe this good doctor has left the building (meaning ‘life itself’).
 
At this point, the film segues into Canyon completing one of his infamous space-runs behind schedule.  At the docking port, he runs afoul of the trucking company dispatcher Keller (George Wendt), and he winds up losing his pay along with his company job.  A curious twist of Fate has the space trucker joining forces with an up-and-coming trucking graduate – Mike Pucci (Stephen Dorff) – and, together, they accept the task of delivering what they’re told is a shipment of sex dolls from space back to Earth.  As Canyon’s fiancé Cindy (Debi Mazar) also needs a trip back to the Big Blue Marble to care for her recovering mother, she joins them in the cab for what she thinks is going to be a routine transport.
 
At this point, Truckers starts to veer into some wild territory, some of which makes little sense other than to be developments required by screenwriters Gordon and Ted Mann.
 
Canyon opts to use apparently uncharted outer space to cover the distance between the station and Earth – as opposed to the approved spaceways – which kinda/sorta begs the question as to who governs the Final Frontier and for what possible purpose.  While we see these police cruisers dogging the intergalactic freeways, we’re never quite given enough information to know what purpose they authentically serve (and at whose authority), so it’s little more than a clever idea perhaps intended to produce a few laughs.
​
However, even Canyon admits to knowing that open space puts him and his cargo at the risk of piracy, but we’re given no plausible reason (except for expediency) for him to go rocketing off into parts unknown.  Almost immediately, his rig is overcome by the massive carrier known as the Regalia and its intergalactic scum under stewardship of Captain Macanudo.  As luck (or script convention) has it, Macanudo is actually the aforementioned Dr. Nabel; now that he’s rebuilt himself from that dastardly assassination attempt of the beginning, he’s a half-human half-cyborg bandit hell bent on taking down any and all takers.
​

As you might surmise, Truckers at this point unspools into a big of high stakes lunacy.  Cindy opts to sleep with the robotic captain as she’s led to believe such a coupling might earn their freedom; once sequestered in his quarters, she outsmarts the fallen scientist rather easily and then – ahem – successfully impersonates him amongst the crew who really ought to have realized this diminutive New Yorker neither looked now sounded like the towering and physically imposing Dance.  (He’s nearly a foot taller than the lady, so, as I implied, this was clearly intended as comic relief … and not of the intellectually challenging variety.)  It’s also at this point that Macanudo learns that the species of killer machines he just happened to have created is now back in his possession, and this means he might be able to seek out and destroy those who previously robbed him of his manhood and livelihood.
 
That’s not quite the direction that Gordon and Mann’s script decided to pursue.  Instead, Canyon, Pucci, and Cindy escape; and – once they discover that they’re on track to Earth with the ability to extinguish the entire human race – they rise up to become the heroes that every good adventure needs in the last reel.  Sadly, there’s a bit more to the story that winds up feeling tacked on – Saggs has usurped the World Presidency, and it was his plot to use these killbots originally to secure the role.  Now that he’s already been installed, the robotic army is no longer needed; and he seeks to execute the space truckers like he had Dr. Nabel years before.  As I said, all of this feels entirely inconsequential – the stuff of artifice that screenwriters feel they must insert to give their picture greater political relevance (or a longer running time) – and it just doesn’t work.  Thankfully, it’s a short sequence, but it’s never good to leave viewers on a sour note.
 
Casting Hopper as the titular trucker is an intelligent gamble, at best.  For those who don’t know, the actor represented the American counterculture for a number of years; so, having him as this man of somewhat independent means working in opposition to the social or political establishment probably earned the support of the film’s older investors.  Alas, methinks Truckers came to be perhaps a decade and one-half beyond the luster of Hopper’s best luster – he had been seen on screens the year prior in the box office disaster that was 1995’s Waterworld – and I can’t imagine his association here did much to bolster the project’s potential.  He’s a bit long in the tooth here, as the saying goes, and a younger, sturdier lead might’ve given it a better outlook.
 
As for the others?
 
Well … Dorff has never quite been a household name.  He’d find greater success two years later in the first of the Blade pictures, appearing as the antagonist to Wesley Snipes’ protagonist; and he was quite good in the film.  Mazar – as the love interest – never quite registers here, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on any major shortcoming.  It feels as if she’s trying to channel the same personae that Marisa Tomei brought to life so vividly in 1992’s My Cousin Vinny; and it just doesn’t work, certainly not in space-based picture.  Such a fish out of water attraction has its limitations, and most of her scenes fall flat.  Dance is good – he chews scenery a bit and seems to be oddly having a good time in his cyborgized existence – but even that can’t quite elevate the general malaise to so much of what accounts for dramatic pacing.  It’s a near-miss, but he makes the most of it.
​

Perhaps the biggest problem with all of this is that Truckers – in spite of some good efforts by the cast and the crew – never quite emerges as anything individually identifiable.  I can’t tell what this flick wanted to be.  Comedy?  Action?  Farce?  Just good ol’ boy schtick?  Far too often, its reminiscent of other genre entries – that curious phenomenon where it feels like scenes were written and crafted derivative of greater films – and it never escapes with its own forward momentum.  The art direction is populated with a kind of garish color scheme – a good portion of the picture feels like it was lifted from some cartoon and/or comic book inspirations – and one might need to drop of Dramamine in order to avoid the resulting head rush.  Effects sequences are wildly dated – stunt work safety wires are obvious in a great number of places – and such weaknesses probably push this one to be considered more absurdist output than anything else.
 
At this point, 1977’s Smokey And The Bandit remains the highwater mark for the very best films about loadin’ up and truckin’.  Sadly, Space Truckers can’t even score a distant second.
 
I have read that Truckers is considered a box office bomb, most of which was owed to the fact that it was reasonably expensive, clocking in at over $25 million to produce.  (Receipt totals vary, but the consensus appears to be that it earned only $2 million in ticket sales.)  Apparently, it never even got a U.S. theatrical release, instead going direct to home video release or cable broadcast airings.
 
Space Truckers (1996) was produced by Goldcrest Films International, Peter Newman Productions, InterAL, Mary Breen-Farrelly Productions, Irish Film Industry, and Pachyderm Productions.  The film is presently available for streaming and/or physical media purchase on a variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to be pretty good: digital effects being what they were in the mid-1990’s, there are some rather obvious inferior shots here and there, but take it all with a grain of salt – as I think was intended – and it’s more charming than it is distracting.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Since I viewed this via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Weirdly colorful – and not in a good way – Space Truckers (1996) sets the stage rather nicely only then descends into a stinking pile of mediocrity at warp speed.  Stylistically, the film reminded me of Luc Besson’s The Fifth Element – a picture that wouldn’t even emerge for a year or so yet – and that’s not a bad thing.  The problem is the creative choice never quite benefits the rest of the production as the narrative bobs and weaves – like an out-of-control vehicle – between adult and pure kiddie fare all too often.  It might’ve had a chance in hands other than Gordon’s – no insult intended – but ‘as is’ it kinda/sorta feels too much like a car crash.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review Space Truckers (1996) as I viewed it as a paid subscriber of Amazon’s Prime Video.

​-- EZ
​

I've often observed in this space that there's a phenomenon within the worlds of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror that, largely, goes unnoticed (I think) by fans but aligns a bit more with organizations that bestow honors on the talent appearing across these genres.

There was a time when, quite honestly, it was difficult to woo some top name actors and actresses to appear in such pictures.  Again, I'm not offering this observation as a slight to anyone; it's just that -- ahem -- not every classically trained Thespian wants to step into something that might appear so 'niche' or -- dare I say? -- even mainstream.  These folks reserve the use of their greatest gifts for stories they personally believe have a greater chance of transcending the ages -- of lasting beyond merely one theatrical run -- and eventually granted the label of being 'high art' by our cultural betters.  And ... who can blame them?  They're craftsmen -- some of them being the highest regarded ones of their generation -- so who's to fault them for wanting to preserve their very best work for what they believe might be the very best product?

​Though I could never prove this (not that I'd necessarily want to), I'd argue that some of these talented wizards end up being smothered with praise for daring to think and/or act outside that box.  Have you ever seen a marquee star given an actor's award for a film or television appearance you thought wasn't deserving?  This isn't to say that the work wasn't good; rather, it's merely to suggest that perhaps it wasn't really good enough in that year to warrant a citation, but he or she took it home anyway.

It takes a great actor to recognize what could be a truly great story, and then that great actor delivers on the promise.  One such actor is the incomparable Donald Sutherland ... and his is a name I'm afraid I have to report that we've lost today.

While it's true to say that Sutherland wasn't exactly well known as a genre talent, let me assure you that he showed up for any such fare and delivered his very best work.  Some of the citations are a bit dated (for today's audiences), but the man ruled the screen in such projects as Don't Look Now (1973), Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1978), Threshold (1981), and The Puppet Masters (1994).  And, frankly, these mentions alone don't even begin to do justice to the man's incredible, incredible body of work as it pertains to mainstream or conventional dramas -- the stuff that doesn't get much coverage in this space -- as his IMDB.com profile shows a legacy of just under 200 different screen projects and a mind-blowing 24 award wins.

​As the editor of SciFiHistory.Net and as a consumer of just damn good stories, I'm forever thankful that actors and actresses of his stature ventured into projects near and dear to us because -- if nothing else -- it reminds audiences what true talent can do with extraordinary circumstances.  Readers are encouraged to check out the man's profile, and -- as time permits -- maybe go back and watch something from a kinder, gentler era and let magnificent storytelling do what it does to your souls.

Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Donald Sutherland.

May he rest in peace.

​-- EZ

(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 ragtag spaceship crew sent on a rescue mission encounters a formidable enemy, their worst fears projected by their own imaginations.”
 
Full disclosure: 1981’s Galaxy Of Terror is a film that I’ve seen several times.
 
While I’m remiss to explain all the reasons why I’ve viewed this curious oddity so much, I’m willing to concede that – as a B-Movie – I just find it a glorious attempt that nearly – nearly – got everything perfect.  B-Movies being what they are and knowing that the late, great Roger Corman’s name has been attached to so, so, so many of them, it’s still exceedingly rare for a secondary effort to soar entirely on its own merits; Galaxy doesn’t so much rocket about so much as it coasts efficiently on its internal momentum, and that’s saying something for this exquisitely crafted thriller/chiller which continues to enjoy cult status decades after its release.
 
Yes, it’s obviously a space story, which perhaps gives it an easy ‘hand-up’ at a website titled SciFiHistory.Net; but – as I said – I think it’s much more than that.  Like 1968’s Barbarella, 1980’s Flash Gordon, or even 1988’s They Live, there’s just something inescapable about Galaxy Of Terror that brings viewers back to it over and over and over again.  Cynics might try to suggest the appeal is nothing more than actress Taaffe O’Connell’s slime-covered, writhing naked physique; and yet I find myself rewinding less seedy scenes than filmdom’s infamous giant worm rape sequence.  While I can’t quite put my finger on the sum total of its appeal for me personally, I do think that the picture is a mystery I’ll never quite figure out.
 
Galaxy opens with a bit of confusion.  Something has seriously gone awry on some distant planet (Morganthus) for some unfortunate crew, and it looks definitely like there are no survivors from the bloody exploits.  Suddenly, the audience is catapulted elsewhere: what looks like a curious boardgame rests before some psychic female and a figure known as ‘the Planet Master.’  After she psychically spies these events at Morganthus for her master, he insists that a special crew must be sent to investigate at his behest.  While we’re given very little information regarding the structure – social, political, or otherwise – for this time and place, it’s clear that this Planet Master is one of the universe’s movers and shakers, but it would’ve been nice to have a bit more.
​

Not long after, Captain Trantor (played by Grace Zabriskie) commands the Quest to a crash-landing on Morganthus; and the crew – made up of Cabren (Edward Albert), Alluma (Erin Moran), Ilvar (Bernard Behrens), Kore (Ray Walston), Baelon (Zalman King), Quuhod (Sig Haig), Cos (Jack Blessing), Dameia (Taaffe O’Connell), and Ranger (Robert Englund) – begin the difficult task of sorting out fact from fiction regarding this world’s secret, typing directly to the film’s set-up as well as what looks to be its inevitable climax.  Suffice it to say, not everyone who arrives here will get out alive – such is the nature of Horror-laced Science Fiction entries – and maybe the survivors will learn a little something-something about himself (or herself) that he (or she) didn’t know before.
 
Bruce D. Clark directs from a script that shows he contributed to along with Marc Siegler and William Stout.  (IMDB.com trivia citations indicate that Corman also crafted a scene or two, specifically the material involving O’Connell’s cinematic defrocking, exploitative schtick he had allegedly promised to investors.)  The resulting tale clearly feels derivative of many other Science Fiction and Fantasy projects of the period – 1977’s Star Wars, 1979’s Alien, and even Corman’s previous Battle Beyond The Stars (1980) – and it’s hard to dismiss these associations as unintended.  In fact, Hollywood heavyweight James Cameron got his career start alongside Corman, serving as art director here as well as second unit director; so it’s very easy to see how much Galaxy both looks, sounds, and feels like it was intended to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with bigger studio efforts.
 
Where it fails – despite its much-earned cult status – is that it just never goes far enough.  It never fully explains who this Planet Master is nor how his fate ties so closely to the events on Morganthus.  (Trust me: they’re pivotal, as we learn in the finale, but we’re not given enough foundation to understand precisely why.)  Furthermore, we just don’t get the straight skinny on Morganthus – what is the reason for this world’s magical, mystical properties of eliciting strong fear responses in humans, nor how the world manifests its various creatures and critters with which to put individuals through their various trials.  Alluma and Quuhod, for example, apparently either possess special abilities or descend from species who behave differently than normal human beings; and, similarly, we’re given no background information on either that might’ve solidified their necessary role in this adventure.  Like everything else, they’re inserted for their ‘cool factor,’ and we’re supposed to accept it for coolness’ sake.
 
Ultimately, this story boils down to a confrontation between Kore – whose identity remains shrouded in mystery until that secret no longer matters – and Cabren.
 
Now, according to a Google.com search, ‘Cabren’ is a name rooted in Celtic/Irish history, and I’ve read that it means ‘deer’ or ‘stag.’  Assigning this name implies that you’re highlighting that person’s strength, agility, and gracefulness.  Indeed, Galaxy’s Cabren is one who leads by example – certainly not rank or title as it appears he has neither amongst his crewmates – and the man walks, talks, and acts as though a natural leader with his peers.  He’s trusted and looked to in a crisis to step forward and do what’s required, perhaps not so much as what’s directed by command.  Whether or not this is what the screenwriters intended, it’s arguably the masculine dynamic at play consistently; and it symbolically plays into the events of the last reel.
​

Kore (aka core), in contrast, is defined as the innermost part of the whole.  As the Kore, everything revolves around it, and everything exists as an extension of it.  As played by Walston, however, Kore appears as a nobody – the ship’s cook (there’s even a line he says about his role that’s important, but I won’t spoil it) – and yet somehow he’s literally trusted by no one … and there’s absolutely no explanation for such suspicion.  Granted, this crew has clearly been together before this mission, but we’re provided no substantive data.  His true identity gets revealed in the conclusion, and it’s this unmasking that shows Cabren and Kore were destined to collide.  While I would’ve liked greater context for their match-up and what the true meaning of the finale, we’re sadly left to – ahem – figure it out all on our own.
 
Defying the odds, Galaxy is one of those rare flicks that exceeds the sum of its parts.  Yes, it’s imperfect; and – as I’ve said – yes, it’s confusing.  Still, as a B-Movie, it excels because it just keeps moving forward, even when what it delivers may not make much narrative sense.  Each player is forced to come to grips with what scares them most, and only he who can overcome that which sets his heart racing has ‘the right stuff’ to inherit the mantle of – ahem – managing the universe (or some such task).  What that job entails we’ll never know, and – yes – count me among those who really wish this one had either spelled it out perfectly or showed up with a sequel that legitimately answered all of the questions it raised with its first installment.
 
Galaxy Of Terror (1981) was produced by New World Pictures.  The film is presently available for streaming on a variety of platforms or for purchase (on physical media) from Amazon.com.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights-and-sounds were exceptional: there’s a great deal of murky cinematography throughout some of the suggested exterior planetary scenes, and there’s one or two that are a bit hard to see.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Alas, I viewed this one via streaming, so there were no special features under consideration.
 
Recommended.
 
Make no mistake: this is a B-Movie, and – as a B-Movie – Galaxy Of Terror (1981) is one of the finer ones to emerge from the 1980’s as well as from the wide, wide catalogue of Roger Corman flicks.  As such, don’t expect perfection but do expect something that works well enough to keep one’s interest from start-to-finish … although not all issues raised will be perfectly ironed out.  That said, the film boasts workable performances and some of the best small studio art design and effects work from the day; and it deserves to be celebrated as such.  Excellent cast.  Solid creature work.  Grim, gritty, and gratuitous when needed.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of Galaxy Of Terror (1981) as I reviewed it via my very own subscription to Amazon’s Prime Video.

-- EZ
​

I’m a big fan of zombie films. 
 
Honestly, I’ve always loved stories that have tinkered in this world wherein the dead aren’t quite dead – not, at least, the way they should be dead, dead, deader-than-dirt – and I think there have been many good attempts as well as there have been great flicks to explore such subject matter from a whole variety of perspectives.  What frustrates me about the smaller zombie films is almost one problem I see universally: there’s only the germ of a founding idea.  In other words, there really isn’t any story.  Nothing substantive.  Nothing relatable.  Nothing of merit.  Rather – in its place – there’s a collection of incidents or vignettes loosely strung together in the attempt to coerce a tale where there truly isn’t one.  Sure, the initial idea may sound grand, but – lacking a legitimate through-line to carry the action and characters – it’s still only an idea once the end credits arrive.
 
Sigh.
 
And, yes, this is what brings me to Contracted (2013), a smaller, gentler, quieter zombie yarn that never quite ends up being anything more than the sum of its performances, all swirling around a premise that could’ve used a greater resuscitation.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the kind 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:
“After being drugged and raped at a party, a young woman contracts what she thinks is an STD; but it’s actually something much worse.”
 
Depressed from the lull in her personal life, young Samantha (played by a pleasantly fresh-faced Najarra Townsend) decides to go to her friend’s party and live it up.  (Good for her!)  But a chance encounter with a possible sexual predator (very, very, very bad for her!) leaves the woman making the worst possible decision: she engages in unprotected sex with the first mysterious man she happens across.  What starts out as some mild physical discomfort suddenly warps her body into something much deadlier as she spends the next three days paying the ultimate price for a momentary lapse in judgment.
 
OK, let’s get this out of the way up front: I know every one of us – you, me, your mom, etc. – have all made a bad decision at one time or another.  Now, I’m not talking about turning right when we should’ve turned left.  I’m really more interested in those kinds of decisions that we always wish we could take back.  We’re human, we’re slow learners, and we wind up doing things now and then for all the wrong reasons.  It doesn’t have to be anything life-threatening; but it’s still something we wish we could’ve done differently in that moment and saved ourselves a lot of headaches, heartache, or stomachache along the way.
 
That said, there’s the great little germ of inspiration in Contracted, and – the way I see it – it kinda/sorta boils down to this: writer/director Eric England had this clever (if not slightly comical) twist of where zombies could truly come from.  Without spoiling it (though the product packaging actually does that fairly well if you read it), let’s just say that it involves a little bit of what would be normally harmless necrophilia and one night of casual sex.
 
Still with me?
​

OK, right there, that’s clever.  Right?  Innovative, even.  Hell, it’s even a bit brilliant.  If nothing else, it’s a development that offers a unique perspective.  A good script could bank some popularity upon that crux.  It probably isn’t going to win any awards by itself, but it shows that some honest thought went into the creative process, and it all wound up getting committed to celluloid.  If nothing else, now you’re here reading about it.
 
But … is that idea strong enough on its merits to sustain the interest of a 90-minute motion picture?
 
Well, so far as this critic is concerned, England’s story fleshed out here isn’t.  Sadly, there’s far too much chickified emotional baggage that firmly weighs down the first half of the film as we explore Samantha’s everyday life and wade through some personal circumstances that just aren’t riveting enough to have us wait for the stuff of real substance – the Horror – to occur.  From what I gathered, she’s going through a bad break-up; she’s definitely struggling with her sexuality; and she lies to a personal physician about a very private matter.  (Never a good idea, Samantha, no matter how embarrassing your screw-up was!)  In fact, we spend so much time exploring Sam’s bad choices that, at one point, I started to wonder why we were even watching her at all … then I remembered there was that whole ‘contracted’ illness thing that was promised in the offset, so I stuck it out.
 
Once it becomes clear that this is no ordinary STD, then the picture elevates to appreciable heights, but – meh – that’s fairly late in the 90 minutes.  Dare I suggest what I’ve done many times before that Contracted would’ve been vastly more entertaining as a short film or even a single installment of an anthology project?  It has a very Twilight Zone feel to all of it, and, as frightening as it was to watch poor li’l strugglin’ Samantha come more and more apart psychologically she was vastly more ‘becoming’ as a character once I knew for certain we were leaving her behind and, in her place, was something more exciting?  I mean … what does it say about us, culturally, when we finally realize that, as zombies, the lives we’ll lead may be vastly more interesting than what we did as ordinary human beings?
 
That’s the real chiller, if you ask me.  Yes, it’s a cautionary tale, but that part of it’s been done before … and much better.
 
Contracted (2013) is produced by BoulderLight Pictures and Southern Fried Films.  DVD distribution is being handled by MPI Media Group on behalf of the IFC Midnight label of flicks.  As for the technical specifications, my suspicion is that this nifty little indie production benefitted from a respectable budget, as the picture does contain some very good quality sight and sounds as well as a good handful of practical, in-camera effects and make-up work.  Lastly, if it’s special features you want, then buckle up: the disc offers two separate commentary tracks as well as a ‘making-of’ short, some behind-the-scenes fodder (nothing all that grand there), the animated pitch, Ms. Townsend’s audition tape, and the theatrical trailer.  That is a nice package, indeed, for those wanting to know more about this particular world.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
Look, if you’re as die-hard about your undead flicks as I am, then you’re likely to sit through Contracted (2013) despite its turgid, zombie-like pace.  Methinks writer/director England was trying to say something about either life or relationships or maybe even one-night-stands in our communicable-disease-friendly world, but I gotta say I think I missed it what it may’ve been.  Instead, what I did see was a great idea poorly shackled with the emotional baggage of Katherine Heigl’s next direct-to-DVD stinker.  Townsend’s performance?  That’s actually pretty solid, though I’d find it hard-pressed to see how her work here might open any doors for her.
 
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 Contracted (2013) 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
​

Like so many viewers, time travel fascinates me … so I’m naturally drawn to Science Fiction and Fantasy films that explore similar themes. 
 
There have been many, many great ones over the years; and – to be honest – even the average space age thriller can achieve more than a few nice moments in exploring man’s attempt to either alter the past, tinker with the present, or salvage the future.  One of my personal favorite time travel films remains Nicholas Meyer’s Time After Time (1979), and what’s genius about it to me even after all of this time is the balance that script managed between its modest SciFi elements and believable, interesting characters.  See – and this is the tipping point for every film – if we like the characters, then we’re liable to give the flick an honest pass on taking the affordable way out.
 
This sentiment might possibly save 95ers: Time Runners (2013) from its own extinction.
 
(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:
“An FBI agent with time-bending powers must fight sinister forces from the future to save her loved ones from being erased from existence.”
 
A few decades beyond today, mankind teeters on extinction from waging wars that have left our planet largely destroyed.  Our last best hope lies in the hands of those who’ve been trained to use time machines in order to change the past in order to revise our future.  But the work of present-day (and pregnant!) FBI agent Sally Biggs (played with middling conviction at best by Alesandra Durham) is interfering with these future warriors attempts to ‘right’ the timeline.  She’s using the resources of the federal government to probe the mysterious death of her physicist husband.  Could it be that she’s inadvertently tapped into an alternate reality that’s causing mankind’s demise … or is this just part and parcel of being pregnant?  I’ve heard that can cause feminine issues.
 
I kid.  Seriously, I kid.
 
But that’s the problem I tend to have with independent features that take themselves vastly too seriously, and you can certainly add 95ers into that category.  All of it is approached with a level of seriousness not necessarily simpatico with the nature of the production, perhaps an attempt to push a low-budget property into the realm of the art-house effort.  While I can appreciate anyone reaching out for the gravitas not found between the credits, I’d still insist that – for some of us, at least – there’s nothing wrong with being an economical SciFi Thriller.  Some of us subsist on those.  So embrace your fate, people, and don’t try to trick us into believing you’re something that you’re not.
​

Written and directed by Thomas Gomez Durham (I’m guessing this might be nepotism, too!), 95ERS tries to do a whole lot of things on its limited resources, maybe trying to look like it was built as a summer tent-pole feature but lacking any of the studio frills.  There’s a vast amount of texture packed into the gills here, and one might wonder if the script was a bit too ambitious.  Not only is Sally Biggs an FBI Agent, but she’s also pregnant … and, not only is she pregnant, but her physicist/husband disappeared under curious circumstances … and not only did her physicist/husband disappear under curious circumstances but also he (and she) may be directed tied into these time wars of the future … and not only might the two of them be tied into these time wars of the future but also their unborn son might also be tied into it as well.  Biting off more than one narrative can chew is always risky, and maybe this one could’ve benefitted from a kinder, gentler construction.
 
Oh, yeah: did I mention Sally has the ability to manipulate time in the present?
 
It’s overkill – never a good thing – and it’s the kind of overkill one might expect, say, if you were casting some marquee actress (Angelina Jolie or a Julia Roberts or even a Meryl Streep) … only they probably wouldn’t be drawn to the material.  Essentially, Ms. Biggs is a modern day mutant, only this isn’t going to be a story told with the stylish presentation befitting a modern day mutant in, say, the Marvel Movie Universe.  This will be done ‘on the cheap.’  That, and the story told won’t quite tie itself up with the same ease and grace normally befitting those silver screen tales based on comic books, so the mission and the narration all feels more than a bit muddled.  In fact, I have to admit that I’m not all that convinced all of this tied up the way one might expect a time travel yarn to do; suffice it to say it ends with a bit of a promise for more … but would anyone show up?
 
Maybe if their surname was Durham. 
 
This was clearly a family affair – not that there’s anything wrong with it – but, at some point, maybe an outside voice would’ve been helpful if for no other reason than to point out the film lacked any organic flow to it.
 
95ers: Time Runners (aka 95ers: Echoes) (2013) is produced by Space Ace Media.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being handled by Inception Media Group.  As for the technical specifications, this is an independent feature that serves up some quality sights and sounds, though I’ll point out that the mike work left a bit to be desired in a few sequences.  Also – as tends to happen when these small releases require some high quality CGI effects sequences – there’s a noticeable difference between the visual qualities between stuff shot with human characters versus the high-tech computer-generated spacecraft; it’s occasionally jarring but not all that of a distraction.  Lastly, if it’s special features you want, then you’ve a bit in store: there’s an audio commentary from the director and his star (both with last names Durham) along with some additional scenes.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
As a low budget thriller, 95ers: Time Runners (2013) is far from perfect.  As an indie Science Fiction feature, it may squeeze a bit closer to comfortable confines, but I’m once more inclined to chalk this up as yet one more example of what happens when relative newcomers write and direct their own work – unfortunately, they’re simply too close to the material to detect the weaknesses inherent in the script as unprepared to fix the shortcomings of their own execution.  I’ve no doubt when – twenty years from now – someone decides to pick this up and remake it it’ll likely end up being a more balanced picture, but this one as is has plenty of narrative flaws.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Inception Media Group provided me with a DVD copy of 95ers: Time Runners (2013) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review, and it in no way, shape, or form influenced this opinion of it.

-- EZ
​

In this space, I’ve made no secret of my fondness for samurai pictures.
 
While they were not my first samurai pictures, I have a particular affection for the Zatoichi series of films: the franchise made exceptional use of the wandering blind samurai who always managed to find himself in the thick of a moral dilemma that pitted himself against some daunting adversary if not an entire village of them.  Of course, I’ve enjoyed a great deal of standalone productions as well – Seven Samurai (1954), Yojimbo (1961), Harakiri (1962), etc. – but I do tend to gravitate more toward those properties that establish a franchise, giving me subsequent exposure to the classic warrior so that I can watch him evolve.  Consequently, I’ll rarely pass up the opportunity to spend time with Samurai Wolf, Shinobi, and Lone Wolf and Cub, even if it’s only catching bits and pieces of them when I happen across a rare broadcast airing on television.  Alas, that doesn’t happen often – sadly – but I accept what Fate has in store for me … as does every samurai.
 
Still, one of the things I’ve found here in the West is that the mere mention of being a fan of such things conjured up all sorts of – ahem – recommendations from readers, like-minded fans, and others who do what I do online.  Because I’m a good guy, I take each and every suggestion under consideration, mostly because I’m prone to do a bit of research before I settle on giving anything else a try.  When I go into it blindly, I’ve been more often disappointed than not; and this is owed to the fact that – here in the states – there is this conception of what makes for a good depiction of said warriors.  In short, these are mostly definitely not ‘John Wick with a blade’ as I’ve heard them referred to occasionally; and that’s a good deal of what comes my way from the average reader.
 
(Of course, not offense is intended.  It’s just the truth.)
 
Having heard about The Challenge (1982) – a film directed by the renowned John Frankenheimer – and – ahem – been assured that it was “a samurai flick,” I couldn’t help but accept a request for a promotional copy from a distributor.  And why wouldn’t I?  Frankenheimer’s reputation being what it is, the production also cast film legend Toshirô Mifune (star of some of the very best samurai stories ever) to basically share top billing with a young Scott Glenn (1979’s Apocalypse Now and 1983’s The Right Stuff) in a script attached in part to John Sayles (1980’s Battle Beyond The Stars, 1980’s Alligator, and 1981’s The Howling).  By all accounts, this had the makings of something special!
 
Well … having now seen it, let me underscore that the project is one of the big reasons why I do so much research when I’ve forwarded suggestions from like-minded folks.  Though not a bad film, The Challenge really only uses the construct of samurai codes with which to spin a rather conventional action picture that deserved a bit more spit, polish, and honor.
 
(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 down-and-out American boxer becomes involved in a feud between two Japanese brothers.”
​

Having spent the better part of the 1980’s in high school and college, I did follow the film scene fairly closely.  I was a fan of all kinds of productions – being of a certain age, I’ll admit to preferring Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror over most others – so I was apt to follow a certain actor or actress’s catalogue as such entries hit the theaters.  From what I recall, I don’t remember much hubbub surrounding Scott Glenn at the time; he may’ve dropped onto my radar here and there, but his name arguably wasn’t one that I watched all that closely.  What can I say?  Such is the nature of youth and inexperience.
 
That said, I don’t even recall John Frankenheimer’s The Challenge hitting theaters back in the day.  IMDB.com shows that it released in the U.S. in the summer of 1982; and – from the looks of its trailer – I suspect it was the kind of project that most likely would’ve hit the drive-in of my hometown as opposed to the downtown double-screen venue.  Though it isn’t grindhouse exactly, the story employs a good number of similar elements – bad ass lead with a bad attitude, smart-mouthed henchmen, a tempting main squeeze, etc. – and such a booking might be why I missed it.  Whatever the case, it just never registered; and – for all intents and purposes – the title pretty much vanished into obscurity.
 
Kino Lorber’s 2023 release dusts off the actioner and gives it a pretty solid presentation.  Glenn looks the part of a kinda/sorta failed boxer down on his luck, and the aesthetic of the feature boasts the vibe of a good many Chuck Norris releases from the same time frame, albeit slightly higher brow (if you get the meaning).  Arguably, the presence of Mifune – filmdom’s best recognized samurai – likely bolstered this one’s prospects with the intellectual crowd; but – for my tastes – it never really rises above conventional television fare to give it serious consideration on any front.  Glenn handles his work as Rick affably enough, even though there’s never a sense that he’s fully committed to any single course of action except the one that allows him to get out alive.
 
The backdrop for The Challenge is set-up rather clunkily – there’s a preamble taking place in 1945 that’s curiously cut short (it reappears later in the production with a bit more clarity as a flashback) – but it ties to a long-lasting family feud between brothers Yoshida (Mifune) and Hideo (Atsuo Nakamura).  Apparently, the clan’s legacy is to see these two samurai swords kept together – they’re called ‘The Equals’ – for posterity’s sake, and their reputation gets shattered when one seemingly disappears at the end of World War II.  For reasons that were never quite clear to me, Yoshida – the elder brother – is the only one committed to honoring the family legacy; and this puts him forever at odds with Hideo, who has mostly turned his back on his nation’s heritage in the pursuit of personal profits.  Though he’s vastly more successful than Yoshida, Hideo prefers to achieve his results with the help of criminals and commerce, making him the quintessential villain so far as this picture is concerned.
​

Having tracked down the stolen sword now in California, Yoshida dispatches his children Toshio (Sab Shimono) and Akiko (Donna Kei Benz) to recover it.  Once its in their hands, they realize that they’ll need a means to get it through Japanese customs without Hideo being alerted to it, so they hire Rick – against his knowledge – to serve as a diversion, making all involved believed that it is he who is transporting the beloved blade although it’s been secretly stashed within the framework of Toshio’s wheelchair.  Once the grand scheme falls apart in Japan, Rick is hauled into Hideo’s corporate offices as he has some seriously ‘splaining to do.  Rather than allow this innocent man to die at the hands of her villainous uncle, Akiko rescues him in the knick of time and nurses him back to health within Yoshida’s training compound.
 
Basically, Rick serves as the kinda/sorta rags-to-riches style warrior for The Challenge’s premise.  He’s the classic down-on-his-luck character – the guy who’s willing to look the other way if it benefits him in the slightest – making him apt to double-cross anyone who gets in the way to his just surviving.  But given the fact that the script is holding out for a hero, Rick develops a loose father fascination with Yoshida, eventually deciding that he wants that honorable samurai existence to fill what he perceives as the hole in his moral core.  Yes, it’s all a bit formulaic, and this is why formula pictures continue to be made decades after they were first discovered: they work, even if that means imbuing the rest of the story with only the bare necessities.
 
While the resulting father/son relationship never quite felt authentic, the Yoshida/Rick pairing works well enough to pave the way for their inevitable showdown opposite Hideo.  Of course, this means that – ahem – ‘the father becomes the son’ and ‘the son becomes the father’ means that Rick is destined to be the last face Hideo sees on his exit from mortal life; and their showdown ends up being a bit unintentionally comical as our all-new American samurai makes his last stand not only with one of the fabled swords in his meaty hands but also he makes strategic use of office furniture, a photocopier’s power cord, and your standard top-of-the-line office stapler.
 
Yes … you read that right.
 
What I did like about The Challenge was the fact that – somewhere along the way – it appeared as if there were inklings of showing styles of the West and the East needing to find a comfortable middle ground if the two cultures were to somehow survive, an idea that definitely could’ve given this whole caper a stronger narrative spine.  At one point, Yoshida selects Rick to join him for a ceremonial meeting between the brothers.  When it becomes clear that Hideo has instead balked at the idea of behaving honorably and leaves the meeting under control of his armed entourage, the American employs the same strategy, making the gang believe that he’s surreptitiously joining them when he puts a knife to Yoshida’s throat.  Of course, they dumbly lower their guard; and this affords Rick the chance to escape with his sensei and a few others.  Back at their compound, the young man even gives an impassioned speech about how the ‘old ways’ cannot survive in this ‘new world,’ but sadly this all ends up being only lip service to a thematic idea that – if utilized to greater and consistent effect – might’ve shown this was a challenge worth undertaking.
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In the end, no, The Challenge isn’t a great film.
 
For those folks coming to the picture expecting a fair share of samurai greatness, you’ll likely be disappointed.  The script – from Richard Maxwell, Sayles, and Ivan Moffat – only employs the warrior’s code circumstantially, keeping it alive only in the background and shining light on it when character development is needed.  It’s really only a film effective as an action picture – one fairly standard for its era – as it never quite does anything exceptional with any of its people, its places, or its highly regarded things.  There’s even the predictable blooming of love between Rick and Akiko – a romance that really only exists to serve as a ‘call to arms’ once Hideo’s henchmen grab the lovely lady as a bargaining chip in the last reel.
 
If you think that samurais deserved better than this, then take heart in knowing that I think audiences did, too.
 
The Challenge (1982) was produced by CBS Theatrical Films, Polyphony Digital, and Poncher-Rosen-Beckman Productions.  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 sights-and-sounds to this new release to be mostly exceptional; there are a few short sequences with a surprising amount of grain, and I can only assume that it’s owed to an inferior master.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Well, there is an audio commentary along with some of the original promotional stuff, but that’s – sigh – all she wrote.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
Once more, I find myself a man on an island … at least so far as conveying my affection for the classic samurai picture, of which The Challenge (1982) doesn’t really hold up.  Yes, it has the look and the occasional style and maybe even a few of the affectionate trappings; but it misses the mark with its adherence to following the all-too-common cut-and-paste approach to producing what audiences had already seen before.  Being predictable isn’t necessarily a bad thing; but lazily throwing so many scenes together without greater emotional resonance will, at best, produce only a guilty pleasure of an action flick.  This one had potential, but it was squandered in pursuit of the all-too-typical fare.
 
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 Challenge (1982) 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
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