Effects


The term “independent film” has changed drastically over the years. It once referred to a small group of people coming together to make a film on almost no budget, often just for the passion of filmmaking; today, Hollywood has twisted it into a farce, to the point where anything made for 15 million dollars seems to qualify. Major studios have whole divisions designed for this type of “independent film production,” which is independent in name only. Back in the 1970s, when the term held its much more meager meaning, a number of filmmakers were building an industry in Pittsburgh that would produce some laudable works. The most influential of these was George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead. In Romero’s shadow, another film made by a small group of Romero’s collaborators was about to appear. Though it cannot hope to compete with the grandeur of Dawn, Effects is an interesting puzzle of a film that’s worth a look for Romero fans.


After its title appears in white on a stark, black background, the movie begins with a number of quick shots of various pieces of equipment in a film studio. Following a few close ups of technicians’ faces, the camera picks up a monitor that gives information about a movie that’s presumably being edited (Pay close attention to this screen. It’s a vital clue to what’s transpiring in Effects). Cut to a long range shot of a small house set against what appears to be in the middle of a million trees. Inside, a woman with a very attractive body is showering. A man who appears to be her husband pops into the bathroom. As she peers into the mirror, someone yells, “Cut!” The camera pulls back to show a small crew recording the event. This was no real shower at all; instead, it’s a staged event for a film. The director, Lacey, pulls back the boom mike that records the sound, and discusses the shot with Dom, the director of photography.


All of this information is important. Dom has been hired to do camerawork and special effects for a movie they’re filming in the isolated wilds outside of Pittsburgh. He’s brought his camera and his work ethic, and he thinks it’s that simple. But as the movie progresses, Dom, and in turn the audience, finds out that things are nowhere near simple. In fact, nothing in this movie is what it initially seems. For instance: In one early scene, Dom gets into a fight with a jerk wearing an umbrella hat at a bar. Later, the jerk turns out to be a friend of Lacey’s, and part of the production. A while after the audience discovers this, Dom does. In another scene, when Lacey shows Dom and two other members of the production what appears to be a snuff film, he claims he got it from another director. As the three men sit and watch in awe and revulsion what could or could not be a real killing, Lacey then claims he filmed it himself. Several questions arise: Is Lacey’s first claim the truth, his second, or neither? Is there actually a death taking place on film? What is real here and what is illusion?


Based on William Mooney’s novel Snuff, Effects sports an intriguing concept. Nearly 20 years before Scream, it plays on the audience’s abilities to draw the line between verisimilitude and verity, forcing those who watch to question just how far that line pushes in either direction. As director Dusty Nelson describes it brilliantly in the commentary, “It’s like peeling back the layers of an onion.”


Unfortunately, the tedious pacing in several parts of it detract from what could have been a great movie. It’s a long time before our protagonist Dom realizes he’s in any real peril, and as soon as that happens, it seems like the film’s over in a flash. Had Nelson, also the screenwriter, devoted a little less time to the setup and more to the payoff, I would have enjoyed it much more.


Still, it’s a likeable film, mostly due to the portrayal of Dom by Day of the Dead’s Captain Rhodes himself, Joe Pilato. Those expecting to find him chewing scenery until his jaw falls off will be surprised, however. Pilato’s performance in Effects is much more nuanced. This role requires a much quieter, “normal guy” performance, and Pilato delivers. When the normal guy realizes he’s in conflict with some very evil men, Pilato’s Dom acts realistically. The rest of the actors come off just as they should, as normal people, with two exceptions: Tom Savini as Nicky, and John Harrison as Lacey. Savini goes about trying to steal every scene he’s in, especially when he’s wearing the umbrella hat. He’s a little too extroverted, but a lively contrast to the rest of the cast. Harrison’s performance is restrained to the point where I often wondered if he had himself confused with a Romero zombie. A reptilian, coldblooded character, Lacey is stone faced and callous, a detached sociopath whose response to everything is no response at all. I would have preferred a more robust performance in a lead role, but from what Harrison says in the documentary, Nelson actually told him to hold himself back. A poor choice.


Perhaps the greatest joy for Romero fans will be all the shots of the desolate countryside. It was very easy for me to imagine that, one or two farms over, scores of beer swilling rednecks were firing on zombies, and that Savini’s character would trade in his umbrella hat for a moustache comb.


Effects offers a nice set of extras, both in quantity and quality. First up is After Effects: Memories of Pittsburgh Filmmaking. Nelson, Pilato, Harrison, and sound guy/editor Pat Buba sit down with Romero at poolside for an hour long discussion of the film and the Pittsburgh film scene in the 1970s. Spruced in are comments from Savini and the three other lead actors from the cast, as well as others. A laidback affair, After Effects is at its best when Nelson and company talk about how much it meant to them to follow in Romero’s path, and just get a movie made. Clearly, Effects was a labor of love for Nelson, Harrison and Buba. I can forgive them the film’s faults knowing the passion that went into its making.


The other major feature is the audio commentary. The director sits down with Harrison and Buba for what is the most technical audio chat I’ve ever heard. The passion they displayed in the documentary is evident, but I’m not a film student, so their discussion of such matters as filming on end stock and their juggling lights for scenes did little for me. If you’re in film school, this commentary is best suited for you. All others will do themselves no harm by skipping it.


Two short films also accompany the feature. Harrison’s “Ubu” is a wild, experimental film that draws heavily on German expressionism. It’s too far out there for me to enjoy. Nelson’s “Beastie” isn’t what it’s title implies. It was only about ¾ of the way through it that I realized the other shoe was not going to drop, and that “Beastie” is not a horror story at all, but a glimpse into the human heart. It’s a cute little piece. A photo gallery offers little excitement, except for an apparently abandoned advertisement in which a director’s chair sports an alternate title for the film, “The Manipulator.” Given the subject of the film it’s actually a much stronger title than Effects.


In the late 1970s, three men who ran a company that produced television commercials and documentaries decided to make a film. Effects was their final product. As a narrative piece, it’s a decent work that could have done more with a great premise. More importantly, Effects is an artifact from an era long gone, when three men who ran a commercial company could make a movie that was truly independent.


--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 07:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Vampires


In 1998, Columbia Pictures released John Carpenter’s Vampires, an adaptation of John Steakley’s novel Vampire$, which, to date, is the second to last feature film Carpenter ever directed. Having felt the financial and creative failures of the recent Escape from L.A. and Village of the Damned, the director nonetheless made a film in Vampires that is classic Carpenter in just about every way.


The movie’s protagonist is Jack Crow, a vampire slayer. Resting at the Sun God Hotel after a long day of routing out bloodsuckers, Crow’s drunken team encounters master vampire Jan Valek, who obliterates them in an orgy of blood. Crow escapes Valek, shaken that the vampire knows his name. Together with Montoya, the only other surviving member of the team, and Katrina the hooker, one of Valek’s victims, Crow and Father Guiteau must destroy the master before he can turn the tide in the favor of the undead.


From the opening seconds, Vampires is classic Carpenter. As the sun rises, shots of wide, sweeping vistas of the New Mexican desert pour onto the screen; accompanying them, the foreboding notes of a guitar. Carpenter is the master of 2:35 to 1 widescreen. He understands how to fill every inch of the frame as nobody has since the directors of the sword and sandal epics of long ago. Some of his shot compositions are spectacular, especially in the scene where Valek levitates against the ceiling before he descends to give Katrina the singularly most standout vampire bite ever. Carpenter’s also expert in creating memorable scores, and punctuating scenes with them. Throughout Vampires, Carpenter proves that he hasn’t lost his visual or musical touch.


The camera finally hones in on Jack Crow. The leader of a team of vampire slayers sanctioned by the Vatican, Crow readies his men to clear out a nest of bloodsuckers. These characters are men’s men, cut from the very archetypes of Carpenter’s hero, Howard Hawks, as so many of Carpenter’s characters are. The film even sports a scene that’s sort of a reverse Rio Bravo, in which the heroes work on breaking into a jail where the vampires have holed up. Vampires continues the delineation of Hawks’ themes in Carpenter’s works, and trumps his much earlier Assault on Precinct 13 in that it’s a Western that takes place in the West.


Perhaps the only great element missing from Carpenter’s classic era is Kurt Russell. As I watched Jack Crow throughout the film, I kept thinking Carpenter intended for Russell to play him. The character’s swagger would’ve suited Kurt’s acting skills well, and certainly after the weak Escape from L.A., fans of the actor/director partnership would’ve flooded theatres to see the pairing again. Fortunately, James Woods fills Crow’s boots perfectly. Woods portrays him as an angry man who lost his family to vampires, and has sacrificed any desire for happiness in exchange for a much more satisfying revenge. Spouting off hilarious strings of profanity, Woods throws himself into the character. Woods is a master at improvising lines, as Carpenter mentions in his commentary. I can guarantee that he altered much of his brilliant dialogue from the way screenwriter Don Jakoby (and Carpenter himself, who did a rewrite) had it on the page.


Jakoby may not be responsible for some of Crow’s dialogue, but he is for taking a poorly written novel and turning it into a strong script. Steakley’s novel is absurd trash. Jakoby and Carpenter wisely tossed out most of it, retaining a few lines of dialogue, a few key scenes, the main character and that set piece in the jail. Carpenter takes a silly novel and transforms it into a textbook action film.


And make no mistake, Vampires is an action film. Yes, it’s loaded with vampires, but there’s not much of a sense of dread (Well, unless you consider Daniel Baldwin’s performance as Montoya). The film is much more concerned with things blowing up than things that go bump in the night. Though Thomas Ian Griffith does a creepy turn as Valek. His frosty breath and pale visage, complete with long fangs, sell the monster well. He does an admirable job as an adversary for the unhinged Crow, though Woods still steals the movie.


The only extra of note is the audio commentary that Carpenter provides. It’s a lazy affair, with many quiet spots, but still entertaining, as the director’s commentaries always are. Columbia would have improved it considerably by teaming him with Woods, whose unique perspective I always welcome. Left to his own devices, Carpenter comments on working with Woods, the film’s music, and how he doesn’t quite understand the exposition about the Berziers cross and reverse exorcism (Yes, the director of the film doesn’t understand a key portion of the script. Now that’s frightening).


A trailer is the only other extra. Whoever edited it did a brilliant job, mixing scenes with Crow’s dialogue and Marilyn Manson’s “The Beautiful People.” One side of the disc is widescreen (don’t you dare watch the other side!) and the other is fullscreen (I warned you!) . The box also claims there’s a stills gallery, but there isn’t. I gather this was a misprint for something Columbia had planned. It’s not a big loss.


Vampires was a return to form for John Carpenter, combining all the elements of his glory days. His next film, Ghosts of Mars, would take his career full circle, with an interstellar take on Assault on Precinct 13. Neither of these films would garner the accolades or financial success of his earlier films. But if you’re a fan of classic Carpenter, as so many of we horror fans are, Vampires belongs in your collection.


--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 07:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Howard the Duck


Without risk, life is not worth living. So I’m risking any and all credibility I’ve built as a reviewer with the following statement: Howard the Duck is a brilliant movie.


There. I said it. And I’m proud. The truth is, Howard’s always been one of my favorite movies. Perhaps because in my youth, I felt as alienated as a duck from outer space who lands in Cleveland. Perhaps because to this day I have a crush on Lea Thompson. Perhaps because the film was everything I could’ve asked for as a kid, an action packed romantic comedy with Dark Overlords of the Universe thrown into the mix. Whatever the reason, I quickly found out when I was 13 years old that nobody, and I mean NOBODY, agreed with me. I asked myself: How could anybody not love a movie about a duck who falls from space, lands in Cleveland, ends up in love with a hot human female, and fights an intergalactic alien with the world at stake? As years went by, people would laugh at my mere mention of the film, let alone when I offered to watch it with them. I moved on from my VHS copy my best friend Fasano made off of HBO, to a bootleg DVD that I like to believe was cut off a tape of the same HBO performance. As time moved on and it seemed that everything in the world but Howard the Duck would eventually be released on legitimate DVD, eventually I gave up hope.


Well, not only is Howard the Duck out on DVD now, but it’s got a bona fide special edition, complete with two new featurettes on which people involved with the film agreed to appear, as well as three vintage featurettes and two teaser trailers. I rejoice! And yet, why do I feel I’m the only person other than Lea Thompson who bought this disc?


Okay, first off let me apologize. The first three paragraphs were an exercise in slavish geekboy fandom, and not a review proper. But sometimes I’ve got to set the stage before I get to the crux of things. The crux of things is that, at 36, I realize that Howard the Duck is not a good movie. But I love it as much now as I did at 13, and so I’ll use this review to defend it, and hopefully sway you to join my cult of one.


Before I go into praise of this film, let me address what’s wrong with it. Howard the Duck’s premise is a hard sell; while a talking duck is usually kiddie fare, the Howard of the Marvel Comics, on which the movie is based, is a cigar chomping wiseass with a sarcastic sense of humor. The movie strives to make him accessible to children, and simultaneously struggles to give him an edge. In doing so, it fails on both ends. The script searches in vain for an identity; is this an action movie, a comedy, a punk music retrospective, a perverse interspecies romance? Trying to satisfy all these masters, it shifts continuously. This causes a tonal nightmare for the audience, as the script never achieves any kind of balance. The answer to every question, the dialogue assures is, is a lame duck joke. And oh, dear God, are there a multitude of lame duck jokes.


And then there are the effects. Sure, the duck suit works, in its own, goofy way. But what big budget summer flick leaves in a scene where the audience can see a wire pulling a character through a diner window? The movie is fraught with gaffes such as this, the type that even a Troma film would clean up (okay, maybe not. But Troma films tend to cost closer to 35 thousand dollars, than 35 MILLION). With such a lack of attention to detail and things such as decent visual effects and a balanced plot with a coherent vision, it’s easy for me to see why people laugh at me about Howard.


It’s also hard to believe that this film was such a slipshod disaster when one considers the talent behind it. Writer/director Willard Huyck and his writing partner/wife Gloria Katz were responsible for writing the well-loved American Graffiti. John Barry had composed the James Bond soundtracks. Master puppeteer Phil Tippett and soundman Ben Burtt, both veterans of the first Star Wars trilogy, had won Oscars. And let’s not forget that the man who originally envisioned Howard as a feature film was Mr. Star Wars himself, George Lucas. Under the control of these artists, Howard should have been on parallel with Indiana Jones. Instead, the film cost 35 million dollars to make, and only made back 15 million. In today’s inflated world, that sounds like chump change; in 1986, it qualified Howard as one of cinema history’s biggest bombs.


This is starting to sound like a really negative review. Trust me, it’s not. Still with me? Good. Now let me tell you what I love Howard the Duck. Very few movies try to offer the audience an action movie, a comedy, a punk music retrospective, and a perverse interspecies romance all under one roof. I legitimately dig them all. The ultra light flight scene still gets my blood going. I can let the duck jokes slide, and some of the other jokes however corny, still make me laugh. The songs are trashy, but punk’s supposed to be, and they’re all in good fun (and yes, I own the soundtrack). As for the romance, Lea Thompson is beautiful, and she does a better job of flirting with a duck than anybody should have a right to. Say what you want about the movie, but her scenes with Howard are heartfelt.


More so than any of this, I still love Howard the Duck because it’s silly fun. In the middle of what was a very rough childhood for me, I adored Howard for being as out of the ordinary as I felt, and yet finding a way to make his way in a world he never made. And he ended up with the hot girl to boot. So maybe beyond the escapism, in an odd way Howard gave me hope.


And a few weeks ago, Universal Studios delivered on the hope I’d forsaken. On its release day, I drove to six different DVD retailers before I found a copy at my local Blockbuster Video. Universal kissed me on the cheek not just once, but a second time with the extras. The first, “A Look Back at Howard the Duck,” runs almost a half hour. Considering the making of the film was anything but mundane, I’m surprised the featurette has such a mundane title. Hyuck, Katz and Lea Thompson discuss the making of the film, with contributions from Jeffrey Jones and Howard himself, Ed Gale. The impression “Look Back” left on me was just how difficult a film Howard the Duck was to make. With special effects that would be considered primitive by today’s standards, constantly malfunctioning duck suits, and a release date that left no margin for error, it’s a miracle that Howard is as good as it is. The other featurette, “Releasing the Duck,” focuses on what a disaster the film was for everybody. Toward the end, Huyck tries to sell it as a film that has a very appreciative, ever growing cult, as he and Katz say Lucas predicted it would. Even in my blind allegiance, I find that absurd and unfounded. The three vintage pieces are of the short variety; they focus individually on stunts, special effects, and music. These are typical fluff pieces so prevalent at the time. Two teaser trailers round out the package. I have trouble making it to the second trailer; the first has Lea sprawled out on the floor, in all her shoulder padded, crimp-haired glory, acting very seductive.


Is Howard the Duck a bad movie, by most standards? Absolutely. Is it as bad as those precious few people who’ve seen it say it is? Maybe. Will Howard the Duck remain one of my guilty pleasures, and one of my favorite movies? Always. And before you ridicule me, horror fans, check your DVD collection and see if it sports Plan 9 from Outer Space. Go ahead and poke fun at me now. I dare you.


--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 07:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

X, the Man with the X-Ray Eyes


Roger Corman is universally synonymous with schlock, best known for cheaply made crab monsters and exploitation flicks directed by future Oscar winners. I get the feeling that all too often, people forget that Roger Corman had another side that was much more artistic. During a short period, he crafted some well-made, respectable genre films, highlighted by his Edgar Allen Poe cycle. One film from this period is X, the Man with the X-Ray Eyes. Though not a Poe film, it’s on par with the movies from that cycle, and shows off a director who had a talent for making more profound films.


Academy Award winner Ray Milland portrays Dr. James Xavier, a scientist bent on discovering a path to X-ray vision. As so many of his type do in movies of this sort, Xavier decides to experiment on himself. The metaphor of science is apt: humankind groping in darkness, searching for the light. But that obsessive search is often accompanied by a blindness of good sense and conscience, and as Xavier will soon find out, in striving for the light, we often find ourselves plunging deeper into darkness.


As Xavier steps out to test his powers, he finds himself seeing the world in a whole new way, both literally and figuratively This is an AIP movie, so of course there’s a goofy dance number that’s totally out of place with the rest of the film; it can’t help but be silly when Xavier finds himself accidentally looking through a dancer’s dress. But as the movie progresses into less airy fare, Xavier starts the slow descend into madness. When an evil carny takes advantage of Xavier’s gifts, it leads him inextricably down a dark path that results in tragedy.


In lesser hands than Corman’s, X could easily have turned into another silly programmer. But X is actually compelling fare. Anchoring the film is Milland’s performance. His glory days of The Lost Weekend long behind him, and not yet at the point where he’d be making Frogs and The Thing with Two Heads, his Xavier has a gravity to him that a lesser actor probably wouldn’t have been able to evoke. Because he’s serious in the role, it was easy for me to take the film seriously, no matter how outlandish the concept was. In fact, his work here echoes his Oscar winning turn in Lost Weekend, as he’s once again a man falling apart at the seams. In that movie, alcohol was the drug. Here, it’s a concoction that grants him X-ray vision. Either way, he’s an addict, and the consequences are the same.


Anyone who knows Corman’s output and thinks him a hack must listen to his audio commentary. Corman is eloquent and knowledgeable as he discusses practical matters such as casting Milland, and more technical areas such as dolly shots and special effects. The commentary gets intellectual at times, as Corman expounds on the nature of the science fiction film and the role of the scientist in such fare. Corman’s been making movies since the mid-1950s, and he’s an authority on low budget filmmaking. His commentary on X is an enjoyable, and sometimes profound, listen.


The disc also boasts a five minute prologue that was cut from the film after its initial release. The narrator’s speech is a little too on the nose, and the film’s message is better shown than told. There’s also the movie’s theatrical trailer, which gives away a bit too much.


Roger Corman has been called many things over the years, but not often is he called an artist. X, the Man with the X-Ray Eyes and the Poe cycle prove that he was in fact capable of more than throwing cheaply made crab monsters on the screen. A movie about mankind’s quest for greater vision, this one’s well worth a watch.


--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 07:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Invisible Invaders


There’s one truly great scene in Invisible Invaders. The camera catches an old clock whose hands tell us it’s 11 o’clock. It then cuts to a long shot of a newspaper; as it zooms in, the headline informs us that Dr. Karol Noymann was buried today. As the clock ceases to chime, a hand knocks on the door, leaving a long shadow hanging in the moonlight. Dr. Adam Penner, obviously awakened by the knocking, heads across the room toward the door. As he opens it, he’s aghast to see his dead friend and colleague Noymann at the door! It takes a few seconds for this to register through the shock and drowse, which are finally broken as Penner exclaims, “Karol!” in astonishment.


This scene is so powerful to me because every time I think of it, I wonder just what I would do in such a situation. With just a few stark shots, edited to maximize the force of the scene, director Edward L. Cahn puts his audience in a creepy situation that begs the question above. Unfortunately, this is the only quality scene in the entire movie.


As the conversation between the two continues, Noymann informs his old friend that he’s an alien inhabiting the dead doctor’s body. He has come to warn Penner that mankind is playing with nuclear power and space travel, and that his kind is preparing to destroy Earth as punishment for humanity’s follies. He then spouts out what should have been the film’s tagline: “THE DEAD WILL KILL THE LIVING...” and tells Penner that the doctor can only save humanity by getting its leaders to surrender to the alien forces.


From such a promising beginning comes one of the most hokey films I’ve ever seen. The dead rise and, to promote their message, they attack—get this—the announcers of a hockey game. This brings forth worldwide chaos, which plays out in stock footage of real upheaval and rioting, accompanied by a voiceover artist who seems, from his intensity, to think he’s working on a breakfast cereal commercial . Dr. Penner, accompanied by his daughter, his protégé, and Major Jay travel 27 miles to an underground base, where he will try to find a way to vanquish the alien-driven zombies. Elsewhere in the world, 27 other scientists are in hiding, working toward the same cause.


Once Penner and co. reach the bunker, the film stalls. In place of action, there’s a lot of talky scientific mumbo jumbo that grinds the movie to a halt. Setting more than one half hour of a film that runs a mere hour and seven minutes in a static location will only work if the film provides compelling characters that generate tension among themselves, which Invisible Invaders does not. The only diversions are the occasional, ridiculous trips into the outside world, in which one of the protagonists dresses in a beekeeper outfit and sprays the undead with a contraption that resembles a leaf blower. Even when Major Jay and the boyfriend, Dr. Lamont, battle each other and destroy much of the lab, it does nothing to thrill. By that point, it’s too late to save the movie.


Boredom is Invisible Invaders’ biggest sin, but far from its only one. Several gaffes plague the film, such as when a character is shot and takes about five seconds to react; and when another character deflects the radiation not with a beekeeper suit, but by rolling up a car window. Even the end credits suffer sloppiness, as Noymann’s first name is listed as “carl.” The acting is another problem. John Agar, of Tarantula fame, gets top billing. His Major Jay is a pushy, unsympathetic. Jean Byron does nothing to distinguish herself in the tired role of the doctor’s daughter, a staple of these films (didn’t scientists in the 1950s ever have sons?) As Lamont, Robert Hutton fulfills the protégé role with a blandness. The only two standouts in the film are John Carradine as Noymann and Philip Tonge as Dr. Penner. As many times as I’ve seen Carradine slumming in absurd fare such as this, he always carries with him a serious dignity, and his voice is second to none. Tonge also plays it straight as a man with the plight of the world on his shoulders. Unfortunately, he’s at the cynosure of some really dreadful material here, that languishes as it forces him to give longwinded speeches. And all his dignity is lost when he picks up the huge ray gun at the film’s climax.


One more way it fails is in promoting the message: nuclear war is bad. Shoehorned in during the encounter between Noymann and Penner, it’s quickly forgotten until the brief resolution at the end. For social commentary to work, it takes more than just dropping a few lines into a film. The work needs to develop the message, and support it with action and dialogue that isn’t silly to the point of absurdity. I’m sure Cahn and his screenwriter, Samuel Newman, had no intent to make a serious movie here. It’s more likely this was just one more piece of hackwork designed to pull in money. As it stands, its ending just gives us a reason to wave our flags as proud Americans. A shame none of the rest of the film gives us reason to be proud of cinema.


The one reason this movie is still of note is that many claim it’s a direct inspiration to George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. Certainly, shots of the dead approaching the camera en masse play out similarly in Romero’s film, which came out nine years later. I suppose one could also make a case that people arguing in an enclosed location and zombies with origins in space all carried over to Night, and the look of the corpses is pretty much the same. But let’s face it: Frankenstein was walking dead with his arms outstretched in the 1930s, and the characters’ squabbles here lack the verisimilitude of those taking place in a farmhouse outside of Pittsburgh. Night is a serious work of art; Invaders is anything but. Any claim that Invisible Invaders greatly influenced Night is as ludicrous as Invaders itself.


Other than Journey to the Seventh Planet on the disc’s B-side, there are no extras.


Invisible Invaders has that one great scene with Noymann and Penner, but does nothing to build on it. Instead of a seminal horror/sci-fi movie, it’s a barely competent, talky waste of time that will satisfy neither alien nor zombie fans.


--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 07:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)