Well, well, well …
It was the summer of 1981, and I – growing up in small town America – and my pals found ourselves outside our local two-screen cinema in the usual pickle. You see, there was this R-rated Science Fiction film debuting in one theater while something we deemed forgettable and benign was in the other. Alas, none of us were of the appropriate age – being a few years shy, yet – so we did what every other red-blood young American boy did: we bought a ticket to the garbage flick for the sole purpose of sneaking into Peter Hyams’ Outland.
You couldn’t do this right away, you know, because the manager and usher for our local establishment were always watching from the concessions counter. We’d have to wait until just after the theater went lights out and the screen lit up because that way there’s no possible way anyone could find you in the darkened theater; and if you were smart enough to take a seat almost adjacent to some adult in the crowd the authorities would just assume you were with that fellow or lady. Granted, this might meant one would miss the opening credits – there weren’t nearly as many coming attractions aired back in those days – but such was a small price to pay when you were simply hoping to be entertained.
Thankfully, we missed nothing. In fact, I think The Ladd Company logo was just fading out when we took to a few open seats, making it perfect for us to catch the opening titles and prologue before we were plunged into the dirty business on Io, one of the moons of Jupiter. 110 minutes later, we abandoned the theater, still giddy with delight from the tale of justice served out in the Final Frontier; and we left under the spell of knowing Sean Connery – a former much-beloved agent on her Majesty’s Secret Service – was still the Alpha Male all of us believed he was meant to be. All was right in the world … well, except for the fact that we had pretty much trespassed in order to have our entertainment hunger properly satiated.
It was the summer of 1981, and I – growing up in small town America – and my pals found ourselves outside our local two-screen cinema in the usual pickle. You see, there was this R-rated Science Fiction film debuting in one theater while something we deemed forgettable and benign was in the other. Alas, none of us were of the appropriate age – being a few years shy, yet – so we did what every other red-blood young American boy did: we bought a ticket to the garbage flick for the sole purpose of sneaking into Peter Hyams’ Outland.
You couldn’t do this right away, you know, because the manager and usher for our local establishment were always watching from the concessions counter. We’d have to wait until just after the theater went lights out and the screen lit up because that way there’s no possible way anyone could find you in the darkened theater; and if you were smart enough to take a seat almost adjacent to some adult in the crowd the authorities would just assume you were with that fellow or lady. Granted, this might meant one would miss the opening credits – there weren’t nearly as many coming attractions aired back in those days – but such was a small price to pay when you were simply hoping to be entertained.
Thankfully, we missed nothing. In fact, I think The Ladd Company logo was just fading out when we took to a few open seats, making it perfect for us to catch the opening titles and prologue before we were plunged into the dirty business on Io, one of the moons of Jupiter. 110 minutes later, we abandoned the theater, still giddy with delight from the tale of justice served out in the Final Frontier; and we left under the spell of knowing Sean Connery – a former much-beloved agent on her Majesty’s Secret Service – was still the Alpha Male all of us believed he was meant to be. All was right in the world … well, except for the fact that we had pretty much trespassed in order to have our entertainment hunger properly satiated.
(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 federal marshal stationed at a mining colony on the Jupiter moon of Io uncovers a drug-smuggling conspiracy. He gets no help from the workers or authorities when he finds himself marked for murder.”
Back in the late 1970’s, Hollywood had convinced itself that the great Westerns – those classic oaters which have long been said to be the only uniquely American film genre – was dying. A series of imports from overseas – namely, the Spaghetti Westerns – had kinda/sorta held the category on life support for some time; but times were a’changin’, and the old Tinseltown guard had christened the prospects for anything resembling those traditional tales of right and wrong Dead-On-Arrival (aka D.O.A.). As such, no self-respecting studio or corporate suit would even entertain the idea of greenlighting anything remotely similar … and this mean that writer/director Peter Hyams’ dream to bring a new one to cinemas would need rethinking.
Now, the dirty little secret that no one really acknowledged back then was that the Western hadn’t, in fact, died in any way. Rather, it had been re-invented by storyteller George Lucas under the name of Star Wars (1977). Much like Gene Roddenberry had crafted his singular television franchise – Star Trek (1966-1969) – to be a ‘wagon train to the stars,’ Lucas reshaped his space fantasy with all of the elements required to make for a serviceable Western. It had good guys with guns; and – instead of riding across the frontier on horseback – these heroes were equipped with blazing fighter craft. Why, Lucas even dressed his villains in their signature white and black, for Pete’s sake! The Westen wasn’t dead: it was alive and well in Outer Space!
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A federal marshal stationed at a mining colony on the Jupiter moon of Io uncovers a drug-smuggling conspiracy. He gets no help from the workers or authorities when he finds himself marked for murder.”
Back in the late 1970’s, Hollywood had convinced itself that the great Westerns – those classic oaters which have long been said to be the only uniquely American film genre – was dying. A series of imports from overseas – namely, the Spaghetti Westerns – had kinda/sorta held the category on life support for some time; but times were a’changin’, and the old Tinseltown guard had christened the prospects for anything resembling those traditional tales of right and wrong Dead-On-Arrival (aka D.O.A.). As such, no self-respecting studio or corporate suit would even entertain the idea of greenlighting anything remotely similar … and this mean that writer/director Peter Hyams’ dream to bring a new one to cinemas would need rethinking.
Now, the dirty little secret that no one really acknowledged back then was that the Western hadn’t, in fact, died in any way. Rather, it had been re-invented by storyteller George Lucas under the name of Star Wars (1977). Much like Gene Roddenberry had crafted his singular television franchise – Star Trek (1966-1969) – to be a ‘wagon train to the stars,’ Lucas reshaped his space fantasy with all of the elements required to make for a serviceable Western. It had good guys with guns; and – instead of riding across the frontier on horseback – these heroes were equipped with blazing fighter craft. Why, Lucas even dressed his villains in their signature white and black, for Pete’s sake! The Westen wasn’t dead: it was alive and well in Outer Space!
Similarly, Hyams sought to loosely retell 1952’s signature oater – Fred Zinneman’s High Noon – set against the backdrop of a mining colony in our solar system instead of on the fruited plains of 18th and 19th century America. Such well-worn pieces as the sheriff’s office, the town square, the doctor’s office, the mess hall, and the saloon would require a bit of an upgrade or a technical makeover; but the overall milieu of a people struggling to survive against an unforgiving environment remained the same. Even Noon’s ticking clock motif could be incorporated into the procedure as – instead of awaiting the arrival of dastardly bandits on the inbound train – Marshal William T. O’Niel (played by Sean Connery) knew his adversaries were set to appear on the next supply shuttle. Literally, everything which made the Western ‘tick’ was preserved in Outland; and Hyams realized his dream in spectacular fashion.
Still, there’s much more to love in Outland than just the fact that everyone involved successfully recast their Western in the cosmos.
It’s not necessarily true that – as has been reported over the years – Introvision was specifically invented for this motion picture. The truth is that this ground-breaking special effects process – the ability to view in real time how actors and actresses could be optically composited in a finished product (i.e. against background or foreground miniatures, matte paintings, etc.) – was mildly being explored in commercial applications. Such technology essentially did away with chiefly the cost of building massive sets upon which to situation any project’s action: instead, directors could direct screen talent in normal fashion while watching how they interacted with models and/or paintings via a video monitoring system. Outland was, I believe, the first major studio production to make use of these effects; and the results – while understandably flawed in a few spots – were phenomenal.
Where Outland stumbles a bit could be argued that it sticks a bit too closely to merely delivering a story and never quite developing its characters. The film and its curious circumstances are introduced by a written prologue that appears as text over extended shots of the Con-Am 27 mining facility, a rather dry bit of prose which never expands in any significant detail about the environment, instead plunking down some curious facts. Then rather quickly, the audience is plunged into darkness that slowly reveals a team of miners going about the business of extracting titanium ore. Before we know it, one of a trio is dead under curious circumstances, requiring the resident police force – of which O’Niel is a new arrival – to begin its investigation.
Still, there’s much more to love in Outland than just the fact that everyone involved successfully recast their Western in the cosmos.
It’s not necessarily true that – as has been reported over the years – Introvision was specifically invented for this motion picture. The truth is that this ground-breaking special effects process – the ability to view in real time how actors and actresses could be optically composited in a finished product (i.e. against background or foreground miniatures, matte paintings, etc.) – was mildly being explored in commercial applications. Such technology essentially did away with chiefly the cost of building massive sets upon which to situation any project’s action: instead, directors could direct screen talent in normal fashion while watching how they interacted with models and/or paintings via a video monitoring system. Outland was, I believe, the first major studio production to make use of these effects; and the results – while understandably flawed in a few spots – were phenomenal.
Where Outland stumbles a bit could be argued that it sticks a bit too closely to merely delivering a story and never quite developing its characters. The film and its curious circumstances are introduced by a written prologue that appears as text over extended shots of the Con-Am 27 mining facility, a rather dry bit of prose which never expands in any significant detail about the environment, instead plunking down some curious facts. Then rather quickly, the audience is plunged into darkness that slowly reveals a team of miners going about the business of extracting titanium ore. Before we know it, one of a trio is dead under curious circumstances, requiring the resident police force – of which O’Niel is a new arrival – to begin its investigation.
Structurally, Hyams prefers to allow his characters to be defined by their actions and not necessarily by what’s said about them. Though his script does drop negligible hints in spots, he allows the audience to make up their individual minds about O’Niel, his fellow officers, and even the Con-Am crew – including General Manager Mark Sheppard (Peter Boyle) – along the way; and this format can be occasionally clunky. As such, allies slowly turn out to be adversaries – such as Sergent Montone (James B. Sikking) who we eventually learn is ‘on the take’ from the corporation – and this construct requires those watching to stay actively engaged, something which doesn’t happen all that much in long-established Space Fantasy. Suffice it to say, Outland emerges as a vastly more adult-oriented Crime Thriller than it does most of what studios were releasing to capitalize on the trend Star Wars launched; and that might owe to why the feature has kinda/sorta been forgotten over the years. It isn’t much fun … but it was never intended to be.
Additionally, Outland shares a great deal in common with Film Noir (or Neo-Noir as would be the case given its release in the 80’s). In Noir, stories generally revolve around players whose motivations might always be either suspect or a bit dubious: they’re often a bit villainous – even if only mildly so – though some spend the bulk of their screen time attempting to escape a Fate many viewers would believe they’re owed as a consequence of such darkness. Though O’Neil is a bit softer than what audiences typically get in Noir, he does lay out in a speech late in the film wherein he admits to never exactly following protocol and being a bit of a private hellraiser. It’s underscored that – in the process – he never sought nobility of any kind; and his career consists of being shuffled from one duty assignment to the next as a result. While Noir doesn’t always get good mileage out of its tainted ‘white knights,’ O’Neil eventually squeezes himself into such a modus operandi because he’s grown tired of his life, not so much his career choices.
This is why he – as a character – bonds loosely with Dr. Lazarus (Frances Sternhagen), a somewhat equally morally aloof physician who has found herself ‘going along to get along’ as the caretaker assigned to this distant space facility. She, too, long ago gave up doing what she perceived as right and just because it led to no personal satisfaction: Con-Amalgamated largely rewards those who look the other way and allow a bit of malfeasance if it’s good for morale, so Lazarus has stopped trying to be an agent for change and has accepted the status quo. It’s only when she realizes that – for whatever reasons – O’Neil has decided he isn’t going to look away that the two find they’re more alike than different; and, together, they make what they see as ‘one last stand’ entirely because it’s spiritually their only option.
Additionally, Outland shares a great deal in common with Film Noir (or Neo-Noir as would be the case given its release in the 80’s). In Noir, stories generally revolve around players whose motivations might always be either suspect or a bit dubious: they’re often a bit villainous – even if only mildly so – though some spend the bulk of their screen time attempting to escape a Fate many viewers would believe they’re owed as a consequence of such darkness. Though O’Neil is a bit softer than what audiences typically get in Noir, he does lay out in a speech late in the film wherein he admits to never exactly following protocol and being a bit of a private hellraiser. It’s underscored that – in the process – he never sought nobility of any kind; and his career consists of being shuffled from one duty assignment to the next as a result. While Noir doesn’t always get good mileage out of its tainted ‘white knights,’ O’Neil eventually squeezes himself into such a modus operandi because he’s grown tired of his life, not so much his career choices.
This is why he – as a character – bonds loosely with Dr. Lazarus (Frances Sternhagen), a somewhat equally morally aloof physician who has found herself ‘going along to get along’ as the caretaker assigned to this distant space facility. She, too, long ago gave up doing what she perceived as right and just because it led to no personal satisfaction: Con-Amalgamated largely rewards those who look the other way and allow a bit of malfeasance if it’s good for morale, so Lazarus has stopped trying to be an agent for change and has accepted the status quo. It’s only when she realizes that – for whatever reasons – O’Neil has decided he isn’t going to look away that the two find they’re more alike than different; and, together, they make what they see as ‘one last stand’ entirely because it’s spiritually their only option.
That said, it’s this central platonic relationship – two old souls who’ve found common ground via their convictions – that grounds Outland in space. Instead of phasers on stun and grenades exploding, the film excels with human action – chase sequences, old-style fisticuffs, and shotgun blasts – to get from start-to-finish; and I’ve always wondered if such conventionality at a time when studios were going bigger and bolder with effects trickery truly kept this one from resonating as strongly as it could have. Though the film combines genres exceedingly well, it’s still worth noting that it never moves at ‘warp speed’ in any way; and it’s mild predictability – since we’ve all seen this one-horse-town before – likely also won over few fans. That’s a shame, as it’s honestly about as beautifully photographed a flick has ever been. Like those towns of old, this outpost looks like it’s been lived in … and every room along with every face has the scars to prove it.
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my praise of the film if I failed to mention the fact that it received a 1982 Academy Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Sound,’ which in itself is interesting more so because the Academy failed to single out Outland for it being one of the first films to employ a brand new visual special effects technology to take audiences where no one had gone before … literally. A big failure on the part of the industry professionals, if you ask me! Furthermore, the flick garnered an incredible six 1982 Saturn Awards nominations across the categories of ‘Best Special Effects,’ ‘Best Music,’ ‘Best Writing,’ ‘Best Supporting Actress,’ ‘Best Actor,’ and ‘Best Science Fiction Film.’ At the end of the evening, only actress Frances Sternhagen went home with a trophy, but she definitely deserved it for contributing such a gutsy job as the ‘town doctor’ trying to keep things together on the edge of this Final Frontier. Also, Outland received a 1982 Hugo Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Dramatic Presentation.’
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my praise of the film if I failed to mention the fact that it received a 1982 Academy Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Sound,’ which in itself is interesting more so because the Academy failed to single out Outland for it being one of the first films to employ a brand new visual special effects technology to take audiences where no one had gone before … literally. A big failure on the part of the industry professionals, if you ask me! Furthermore, the flick garnered an incredible six 1982 Saturn Awards nominations across the categories of ‘Best Special Effects,’ ‘Best Music,’ ‘Best Writing,’ ‘Best Supporting Actress,’ ‘Best Actor,’ and ‘Best Science Fiction Film.’ At the end of the evening, only actress Frances Sternhagen went home with a trophy, but she definitely deserved it for contributing such a gutsy job as the ‘town doctor’ trying to keep things together on the edge of this Final Frontier. Also, Outland received a 1982 Hugo Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Dramatic Presentation.’
Outland (1981) was produced by The Ladd Company. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, let me assure everyone reading this that … WOW. This film with this 4K restoration has never looked so good (and I say that as one who has watched it previously at least a dozen times). Some might be put off by its darkness and shadows, but I can say – having seen it on the silver screen in its original run – that visual palate is part and parcel of the experience. It’s a film meant to deal in shade as the template ties to each and every piece in here. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are both newly-produced interviews and some archival stuff on there, along with two commentary tracks. I’d heard the Hyams one before: it’s good, but it’s a bit sparse here and there. The second one (from film critic Chris Alexander) is solid, but it’s far more informational and less examining the texture of the picture itself than what I prefer. Still, both are worth the time, as are the extent of supporting materials.
Strongly Recommended.
I’m not unaware of the effects that nostalgia occasionally plays on my old mind, and maybe – just maybe – my delight with so much of Outland (1981) relies on my fondness for another time and another place. It’s a film that left a lasting impression back in the day – it’s one I saw theatrically and also watched countless times on Laserdisc and VHS – and even some of that is owed to my love of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and the traditional Western (which this is heavily derivative of). But nothing dismisses the quality of these visuals and the simplicity of its story, that being a flawed white knight trying to come to grips with some dire circumstances on his own terms. Sure, its pacing is a bit slow for some; and yet those of us who appreciate slow burns will find little about which to complain. Disagree if you must, but I’ve always found it one of Connery’s best performances.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Outland (1981) 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
Strongly Recommended.
I’m not unaware of the effects that nostalgia occasionally plays on my old mind, and maybe – just maybe – my delight with so much of Outland (1981) relies on my fondness for another time and another place. It’s a film that left a lasting impression back in the day – it’s one I saw theatrically and also watched countless times on Laserdisc and VHS – and even some of that is owed to my love of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and the traditional Western (which this is heavily derivative of). But nothing dismisses the quality of these visuals and the simplicity of its story, that being a flawed white knight trying to come to grips with some dire circumstances on his own terms. Sure, its pacing is a bit slow for some; and yet those of us who appreciate slow burns will find little about which to complain. Disagree if you must, but I’ve always found it one of Connery’s best performances.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Outland (1981) 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
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