(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.
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.
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
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
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