Lust In Space - FORBIDDEN WORLD

The late ‘70s and early ‘80s were a magical time for Roger Corman’s New World Pictures.  The summer blockbuster was still a new, exploitable beast and no one exploited like Corman.  He knew what people wanted and he would give it to them cheaper, faster, and trashier.  The fun of New World’s rip-offs was that they were rarely straight copies of popular movies.  They seemed straightforward, but actually diverged in weird, wonderful ways creating mad scientist mash-ups like; BATTLE BEYOND THE STARS (STAR WARS + THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN + The Waltons), STARCRASH (STAR WARS + BARBARELLA + Italy), GALAXY OF TERROR (ALIEN + acid trip).  Perhaps the sleaziest, cheapest, and most ridiculous of Corman’s chimeras was FORBIDDEN WORLD (ALIEN + STAR WARS + softcore porn).  

The Capsule:

Intergalactic Troubleshooter and space Lothario, Mike Colby (Jesse Vint) is sent to Xarbia to help some panicking scientists.  It seems they have accidentally created a bloodthirsty mutant organism, as scientist tend to do.  Sexy Dr. Glaser (June Chadwick) seems really glad to see Mike; Dr. Hauser (Linden Chiles) and sweaty security chief Richards (Scott Paulin) less so.  While Mike gets better acquainted with the lady doctor, Subject 20, the mutant in question, grows larger and starts taking out the more dim members of the compound.  Conflict builds between Hauser, who wants to protect his deadly wonder of science, and Mike who wants not to be eaten.  Rapidly gaining intelligence, Subject 20 has a plan of its own that no one will like.  

Directed by Allan Holzman, FORBIDDEN WORLD is not to be confused with FORBIDDEN PLANET, though that was obviously Corman’s intent, because the title makes no sense, otherwise.  The only thing forbidden on this world is common sense.  It is also known as MUTANT, which is more appropriate since it is about a mutant, but should not to be confused with MUTANT from 1984, which stars Wings Hauser and is about zombies.  

The movie slams out of the gate with a dizzying open that ambitiously rips off ALIEN, 2001, and STAR WARS all at the same time.  Mike is awakened from hypersleep by his trusty robot sidekick, SAM-104 (Don Olivera)—who sounds and looks like an eleven year-old boy in a homemade stormtrooper costume—to find his ship is under attack by, um, pirates?  It’s hard to discern because like all Corman’s sci-fi movies of that period, it repurposes the space battle scenes from BATTLE BEYOND THE STARS (that footage cost a ton of money, damn it).  It cuts from unrelated spaceships blasting lasers to Mike and SAM pushing buttons on a set while a view screen—which is behind them—shows random explosions.  Some of the explosion happen on the surface of a planet, so maybe it’s a screensaver.  

Once we get to the forbidden planet world of Xarbia, the mood abruptly switches tracks from sci-fi action to sci-fi porn.  Studly Mike is greeted—and eye fucked—by Dr. Glaser, slinking around in her low-cut jumpsuit.  It is so close to parody that I’m surprised they didn’t make Mike a space-pizza delivery boy rather than a troubleshooter.  Seriously, what kind of deep space science facility has a sauna?  When Mike stumbles in on clothing averse Tracy (Dawn Dunlap), her reaction is predictable.  “How dare you? Get out!  Wait, since you’re already here, we might as well have sex.”  Paraphrasing, but not by much.  And this is after he has already bedded Dr. Glaser.

The most egregiously porn-set scene comes after a traumatic death of one of the stupid, stupid crew members.  Dr. Glaser comforts the distraught Tracy in the way all professional colleagues do, by giving her a backrub as they both stand naked in the sauna.  This is only a guess, but I’d bet that was a script note from Roger.  “Heavy exposition scene.  Recommend boobs.”

Not everyone lusts after Troubleshooter Mike, some just resent him.  Head scientist Dr. Hauser is ruffled to find he is no longer the cock of the walk as far as eligible space bachelors go.  Richards, the security chief, is understandably grumpy since the monster got his girlfriend Annie just before Mike arrives.  Of course, the twitchy perv blows all inherent sympathy by watching Mike and Dr. Glazer go at it on the security monitor.  The monster might have done Annie a favor in that situation.

The facility roster isn’t exclusively horn-dogs.  Engineer Beale (Ray Oliver) is happy to just chill and play his space flute.  Then there’s obsessive Dr. Timbergen (Fox Harris, the loon in the radioactive Chevy Malibu from REPO MAN), who has no time for hygiene, much less love.  He comes to lunch still wearing his blood-stained lab coat and scoops up a biological sample with his fingers.  If this were a cop movie, he would be the coroner who does an autopsy while eating a sandwich.  

Of course, the one thing the residents of this interstellar Club Med lack more than inhibitions is any hint of self-preservation.  When Mike arrives, the scientists nonchalantly walk him through a lab literally dripping with blood and test animal guts to show him Subject 20, which is now cocooned in a plastic, completely unsecured incubator.  After explaining how dangerous it is, everyone leaves it in the care of the janitor, ironically named Jimmy Swift (Michael Bowen). Swift manages to do one better than ALIEN’s Kane by sticking his head directly underneath the cocoon as it undulates and leaks goo.  Cut to security footage of Swift flailing around with a giant black loogie dissolving his face, smashing into every piece of glass in the lab and spraying blood onto the camera, which no one is paying any attention to.  

I enjoy how Mike, who "does not know a gene from a jelly bean” is belittled by the scientists for wanting to destroy the creature.  Dr. Hauser is adamant about protecting their scientific accomplishment, even though it is actively killing his co-workers, and defends his position until the end.  His end, at least, which isn’t long.  Dr. Glaser is keen on communicating with it, hoping to use a computer link to ask it questions like, “Why do you enjoy killing humans so much?” and “Is there any chance we can persuade you to not eat us?”  Her efforts are rewarded by being shish kabobbed on a mutant tentacle.  

Of course, the scientists' most shortsighted endeavor was creating the mutant in the first place.  It could less be described as an accident than as a thoroughly intentional, highly complicated experiment in mass suicide.  First, they develop a fast replicating virus that instantly mutates any life form it touches, then for kicks, they spice it up with human DNA, inject it into a fertilized egg, and implant it—completely voluntarily—into one of the scientists.  Who could possibly have foreseen any complications?  This group would reject Wile E. Coyote as a member for being too risk averse.     

The fully grown Subject 20 is an imposing ALIEN knock-off, or it would be, if it was anything more than a completely immobile plastic statue.  Early on, it has two modes of attack, sitting completely still and waiting for someone to lean close to its mouth, or getting shoved off something by the film crew to simulate motion.  Later, it develops spiky tentacles and the ability to open its mouth, making it more dangerous.  Plus, it provides the opportunity to use a POV shot from inside its chomping jaws.  Having eyes inside your mouth seems disadvantageous, but the mutant makes it work.

I should note that, according to the stories, the substance invented for the mutant’s acid blood actually was caustic to flesh, making the prop more dangerous in real life than on the screen.

As I mentioned in my reviews of GALAXY OF TERROR and HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP, New World was where a young Jim Cameron spent his formative years, working in production and art design for their sci-fi films before becoming the director of the illustrious PIRANHA II: THE SPAWNING.  Even as trashy and ridiculous as these movies are, it’s fun to catch all the quick shots and setups that made their way into Cameron’s undisputed masterpiece, ALIENS. For instance, Mike is unable to use his laser in the mutant’s lair because it has coiled around the life support system, which echoes the Colonial Marines having to sling their heavy weapons in the xenomorph nest for fear of hitting the reactor’s coolant system.  And SAM the robot’s being ripped in half by the end stage mutant echoes Bishop’s fate at the hands of the Alien Queen.  I’m sure these were just subconscious inspirations, I don’t recall ALIENS having a space sauna.  Not in the final draft, anyway. 

The golden days of New World are long gone, as are its cheap, crazy mashup B movies.  It’s about time someone got those going again.  Who wouldn’t want to see CAPTAIN AMERICA + A QUIET PLACE + 50 SHADES OF GREY?  On second thought.

C Chaka

Monster Hangover – COLOSSAL

Science fiction has always excelled in the use of metaphor.  Classically it was used by storytellers wanting to tackle taboo subject matter that could never be talked about directly, like racism, religion, or authoritarianism.  Sure, this guy is an alien, but he’s really an immigrant.  People are being replaced by evil plants, but the plants are really communism.  That sort of thing.  These days, though, with relaxed censorship and an open social discourse, we can tackle pretty much any topic or taboo head on.  Does that make metaphor less relevant?    If we already have DANCES WITH WOLVES, do we really need AVATAR to turn everyone blue and throw in dragons and machine-guns and shit?  The answer, of course, is yes.  All movies are better with dragons.  Plus, metaphors are fun.  They can add gravitas to a silly concept or lighten up a heavy subject.  Sometimes, though, your metaphor about the unintentional consequences of irresponsible behavior can get away from you and end up destroying a bunch of buildings in downtown Seoul, Korea.  Because that’s just what happens in Nacho Vigalondo’s sweetly absurd relationship/kaiju movie, COLOSSAL.

Capsule:

Gloria (Anne Hathaway) is at a low point.  She lost her sweet writing gig for being a touch too sarcastic.  Her successful, boring boyfriend, Tim (Dan Stevens) kicked her out of his Manhattan apartment for being a boozy lay about.  Now she is forced to move back to her parent’s vacant house in her small New England hometown.  Things look up when she runs into her childhood friend Oscar (Jason Sudeikis), who offers her a job working at his bar.  Gloria is slowly-very slowly-putting her life back together when she realizes she has a strange connection with the mysterious, giant monster who has been attacking Seoul, Korea lately.  It always appears at the same time, just as she is wandering drunkenly through a playground on her way back from the bar.  Turns out that the colossal kaiju is somehow linked to Gloria, and every action she takes in the playground is disastrously mirrored halfway around the world.  Gloria is horrified, but when the increasingly controlling Oscar learns that he has his own avatar in Seoul, he sees the chance to be the big man he’s always dreamed of and keep Gloria by his side for good.

This wonderful little film brings together two of my favorite things, kaiju and drinking.  And a strong female lead.  Probably should have used that one instead of drinking.  To be honest, though, there is much more drinking going on than kaiju action, and Anne Hathaway’s Gloria is pretty awful for the first half of the movie.  Not awful in a mean way, awful in the enjoyable, train wreck sort of way.  The heart of the movie is watching her take slow, awkward, incredibly destructive steps toward being strong. 

Hathaway is as close to perfect casting as you could get.  She has a knack for playing likable, multi-dimensional women who can’t quite get their shit together.  She embodies Gloria’s emotionally adrift boozer to a tee, from her just enough to be cute without requiring any effort hairstyle, to her pricelessly immature facial expressions.  We can’t feel that sorry for her ending up back in her childhood town, forced to crash in her parent’s empty house. One, because it is all her own doing, and two because, as downward spirals go, this is a slow and gentle ride.  She still has a place to live, if uncomfortably, and enough money and sympathy to survive.  Her drinking isn’t so much a crutch against the pain as it is a distraction from her directionless life.  What else was she to fill up her time with?  

This is because Gloria’s problem isn’t alcohol, it’s men.  Intentionally or not, Gloria wears a sign on her back that says in blinking neon “SAVE ME”, and there is always a seemingly proper gentleman ready to swoop her off her feet and sort out her life for her.  In a way, drinking is a defense mechanism, putting a barrier between her and the overly controlling jerks she attracts.  

Compared to Gloria’s hot mess, the men start off looking great.  Take Dan Stevens, or as he’s better known, that guy from Downton Abbey.  Tim seems to be the reasonable one in the beginning.  Who can blame him for kicking Gloria out of his apartment?  She can’t even keep her lame excuses straight after being caught sneaking in after a night of drinking with her vapid party friends.  He puts his foot down for her own good, and remains stern when she calls up, drunk and rambling about a monster attack on the other side of the world.  Once he gets wind that she may actually be pulling her life together without him, he suddenly lays on that apologetic British charm.    

Oscar is the worst.  Literally, demonstrably, the worst.  He starts off looking great.  He’s the grounded one, a responsible adult running a modest business.  Just the guy to guide Gloria to the right path.  If this were a romantic comedy, he would be the Patrick Dempsey type, the sort of boring square that stands up in the end and, in a moving little monologue, accepts the girl just as she is, flaws and all.  This ain’t that kind of movie.  Underneath all the friendly support and awe shucks charm is a manipulative, self-loathing prick who needs to control everyone in his pathetic little orbit.  Oscar is just the man Gloria needs to show her she doesn’t need a man.

Not only is Oscar a smooth operator, he has an ace up his denim sleeve.  He owns a bar, and alcohol is Gloria’s kryptonite… if kryptonite made Superman really silly and forget stuff instead of killing him.  Oscar exploits Gloria’s weakness like a pro.  He doesn’t push, he just provides.  A beer here, a futon there, little things to make her feel indebted.  He fills her empty house with second hand furniture that he claims she asked him for, knowing that she was too plastered to remember if it’s true.  He has weaponized generosity.

He’s so subtle about it, Gloria may have gotten completely sucked into his little trap if her vice hadn’t manifested in the most unsubtle way imaginable, a giant, city destroying monster.  She is horrified at the idea that she might be the cause of all the devastation, and even more so after a drunken experiment confirms it.  Oscar, however, just sees it as another way to manipulate her into staying close.  Once he discovers his own kajiu, he completely drops his nice guy facade, especially when the world clearly labels the giant robot as the villain of this monster drama.  

Oscar blackmails Gloria into hanging around, under the threat of daily robot rampages.  He feels no empathy for the hundreds of innocent people he could be killing with his childish tantrums.  Interestingly, Oscar’s obsession with Gloria doesn’t seem to be physically motivated.  His goal is more about keeping her as trapped and unhappy as he is, company for his misery.  He gets jealous when she has a drunken hook up with his handsome but totally useless friend, Joel (Austin Stowell), and when Tim shows up to woo her back.  Even then, though, he acts less like a romantic rival and more like a possessive bully on the playground.  Which is how the whole mess got started.  

The best fight in the movie isn’t between the massive avatars, it’s between two average humans.  After a battle of wills in Gloria's house, Oscar is determined to punish her for defying him. When he makes a break for the magic kaiju park, Gloria tries to stop him by turning all his gifted furniture against him.  She smashes him with a chair, drops a bookcase on him, and tries to squash him behind the giant TV.  He has to leap out of a second story window to get away from her.  Once they reach the park, the struggle takes an unpleasant turn.  Oscar sucker punches her and forces her to watch as stomps around, causing untold destruction on the other side of the world.  Things would have gone differently if she'd shown up packing an ottoman.

In the end, it all comes down to Gloria doing what she has spent her whole life avoiding, taking responsibility and fixing her own problems.  I love the moment when she calls Tim as she is walking into Seoul’s surprisingly populated kaiju boxing ring.  At first it seems like she is reaching out to profess her love in case her plan ends badly, but really it’s just to call him out for being a controlling knob and to dump him for good.  One down, one to go.

Scientifically speaking, the final face off with Oscar is preposterous, but so is the very nature of the movie.  Anyone expecting anything remotely realistic at this point is watching the wrong movie.  As metaphors go, though, it is immensely satisfying.  She shows her lifelong bully to be the sad little man he always was, and she does not let him down easy.  His choice of last words, which Gloria shouldn't have been able to hear, but seems to understand anyway, seals his fate.  The movie may play fast and loose with physics, but unfortunately for Oscar, gravity still applies.

Well, maybe there is one bit of realism in the end.  As Gloria victoriously strolls through the shell shocked city, she comes across a sympathetic ear to tell her crazy tale.  Before she begins, the woman--a bartender--asks if she would like a drink.  Gloria pauses, gives her a look of steely determination, and sighs.  Of course she wants a drink.  Of course she's going to continue to screw things up.  And yes, possibly knock over a few more buildings by accident.  She'll get her shit straightened out eventually, with no assistance from men or giant robots required.
  

C Chaka