An alien agent from the distant planet Davana is sent to Earth via a high-tech matter transporter. There, he terrorizes Southern California in an attempt to acquire blood for his dying race, the result of a devastating nuclear war.
A group of lonely Viking women build a ship and set off across the sea to locate their missing menfolk, only to fall into the clutches of the barbarians that also hold their men captive. ... See full summary »
A poor-little-rich-girl feels alienated by her mother and enacts a string of revenges on her fellow pupils at a girls' boarding school. However, she is outcast when one of her stunts nearly drives a girl to suicide.
The control panel with many toggle switches used by the ground controller and the spacecraft flight crew is the automatic pilot from a WWII B-17 bomber. See more »
During a landslide, a boulder crashes into a tree, and the tree top comes off, revealing where it connected to the base. Clearly a model, not an actual landslide. See more »
Sigma calling, Sigma calling. U.N. Satellite Control, do you read me? Do you read me?
U.N.S.C. calling Sigma. We read you, Sigma. We read you.
We are passing through Andromedae at the speed of light. We've made it. The whole universe is our new frontier.
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The flick's not as much fun as most Corman epics, maybe because there're no rubber monsters to laugh at. Instead, the bad guy-alien is a very human-like Richard Devon who appears to come in doppelgänger twosomes. One is sort of an okay guy who can pass for the human original; the other, however, is an emotionless demon, thanks to a tricky alien force. Together the two Devons seriously confuse the rocketship crew, that is, when the alien half isn't zapping and ejecting human "trash".
Now maybe you can figure out the plot. I couldn't, given all the holes recounted by other, more perceptive, reviewers. But then, when did narrative matter for a Corman quickie. Too bad those dignified members of the august UN couldn't meet in something besides a basement and a bare wall. But then, the rocketship isn't much fancier. Good thing Corman spent his budget instead on a pretty good cast that makes the nonsense watchable. I just wish the headman had put a fetching Susan Cabot into something beside a shapeless flight suit. A tight sweater and skirt would have done nicely; after all, I thought this was required attire for all Corman heroines, inside spaceships or not.
Then too, I'll bet this was the first flick to cash in on the first space satellite, the Russkies' Sputnik. But notice, the enemy here is not the commies; instead, it's a master race from outer space trying to keep us from polluting outside our own neighborhood. That way, the story doesn't get political in an obvious way. Still, it's a not a very complimentary comment on our own ambitions.
The 70-minutes may not be Corman's best, but it's not his worst, either. Plus, Richard Devon deserves a bare bones Oscar for a performance over and above the call of a paycheck.
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