Director: Phil Tucker
Stars: George Nader, Claudia Barrett, George Barrows
Snack Report: Salted Caramel Magnum Bars
Viewing Companions: Zelda and Mr. Falbeaux
We’ve been dealing with some weighty subjects lately in the Fright Nights Challenge. For example, “Is God Dead?” “Can good and evil co-exist in the same person?” and “Can skeletons really fly?”
So tonight I decided to go with something less serious… something so lightweight, in fact, it would probably blow away in a light breeze. Browsing through my DVD library, I found the perfect candidate for Fright Night #16: Phil Tucker’s Robot Monster (1953).
Widely acclaimed by the anti-critics, it was named one of the worst films ever by the Golden Turkey Awards and Razzies Award founder John Wilson, and it made the cut in The 50 Worst Films of All Time and How They Got That Way by Harry Medved and Randy Lowell. It was actually one of the very first films riffed on by MST3K, and it was so bad, they weren’t even sure it could be satirized.
Robot Monster is a movie full of contradictions and inconsistencies. For one thing, there is no Robot anywhere in it. You could make the case that Ro-Man (part-gorilla, part deep-sea-diver or space alien) is a monster, and it would be hard to argue with that. But right off the bat, this movie suffers from an inaccurate title.
It only made things worse when meager box office returns and negative reviews inspired a hasty re-naming, and it was promoted as Monsters from Mars, though it’s mentioned multiple times during the movie that they’re from the Moon.
Let’s not even get into the expected screw-ups for a film of this caliber… terrible acting, nonsensical plot, crazy improvised props, and truly awful dialogue. So many sci-fi/horror movies from the 50s and 60s push the limits of bad cinema, but Robot Monster is truly up there in the Pantheon along with Beast of Yucca Flats (1961), Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966), and The Robot vs the Aztec Mummy (1958).
You know what else doesn’t make any sense? The bubbles… so many bubbles. In fact, the bubble machine is front and center at the entrance to Ro-Man’s lair churning out bubbles like Lawrence Welk on coke. It was even mentioned in the credits.
And what about the plot, you say? Well, if you really want to know…
In footage borrowed (with permission, no doubt) from a number of different “Lost World” and apocalypse movies, stock-footage dinosaurs (also an alligator with a fin on its back and a beaded lizard) battle ferociously. Cities lie in stock-footage ruins as a race of gorilla aliens wearing space helmets has conquered Earth, completely wiping out the human race. Except, of course, for a handful of people who just happen to be immune to the Calcinator ™ death ray. They’re spending Armageddon hanging out in Bronson Canyon (a famous free movie set for cheap filmmakers in those days), having a picnic in a lovely spot among the rocks, dirt, and scrub.
Ro-Man takes his orders from the Great Gazoo (or something like that). He’s another gorilla in a space helmet, so they look pretty much identical. But you can tell he’s the boss because he’s in control of the bubble machine. Their terrifying death-dealing technology also includes a thrift-store table and a WWII army surplus shortwave radio topped with TV rabbit ears for the video screen (which is clearly made of wood).
So anyway, Ro-Man is ordered to track down those survivors and kill them. And as so often happens, Ro-Man falls in love with the young woman scientist and has second thoughts. The Great Gazoo threatens Ro-Man, saying that he’d better get off his ass and start killing everybody because otherwise he’ll turn into a Hu-Man. So he kills some more people, but then Gazoo kills him anyway with a lightning bolt, just because.
Gazoo has obviously had enough of this nonsense. To finish off the remaining survivors, he starts an earthquake and then gets the dinosaurs and lizards to come back and start fighting again.
Then Johnny wakes up. What a relief! ‘Twas but a dream, like that one season of Dallas. Everyone’s alive, and they have a group hug and go on another picnic or something.
But was it a dream? Because – What a twist! – as soon as they’re gone, Ro-Man emerges from the cave and attacks the camera three times!
It’s no wonder that (according to the Medved Brothers) Phil Tucker became so despondent over his failure as a director that he attempted suicide. He put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. And as you might have guessed… he missed.
But in the end, Ro-Man had some measure of revenge.
Over time, Robot Monster found its audience and eventually made over a million dollars – many times its micro-budget of about $16,000. It helped that the movie was shot in just four days and filmed entirely outdoors with no sets. I know it’s hard to believe, but it was even praised for its groundbreaking stereoscopic photography (it was originally released in 3D, complete with special viewing glasses) and innovative sound technology.
Speaking of sound technology… my jaw dropped when the opening credits revealed that Elmer Bernstein was responsible for the film’s score. I found it shocking that the composer for The Magnificent Seven (1960), The Great Escape (1963), and The Ten Commandments (1956) (not to mention Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video) was doing soundtracks for the likes of Robot Monster.
According to Wikipedia, Bernstein was at a difficult point in his career – he was “graylisted” for his left-leaning politics and was only being offered minor films. Anyway, he said he enjoyed the challenge of helping out a small film.
Tonight we reached the halfway point in the 31 Fright Nights Challenge with what is certainly one of the silliest films in our programme. Robot Monster was a wonderful palate cleanser, and there will be more Schlock and Awe to come. But don’t worry… we’ll get back to Dreadpunk Gloom tomorrow!