Pulp Science Fiction

While researching the latest advancements in bikini technology…I mean underground art, I happened across the illustrations of Timothy Anderson, a guy whose Earth-bound name disguises an otherworldly talent. A concept artist calling Salt Lake City, UT his home (isn’t that the place of the Mormon infestation?), not much else is publicly known about this low-key and yet fantastically talented craftsman.

Anderson’s latest pieces are the imagineering of several sci-fi classics reinterpreted as pulp novel covers, such as Alien, Blade Runner and The Matrix. In case you’ve never seen – much less heard – of these iconic movies (what, you live under a rock or something?), here’s a primer…

ALIEN (1979)
A blue collar mining ship picks up a gnarly case of space herpes in the form of a nearly indestructible alien that has a mouth inside its mouth. Guess what the alien puts in its mouth(s)?

BLADE RUNNER (1982)
Detective film noir set in 2019, the highly polluted future. (Told’ja global warming was slightly more fact than fiction.) A cop is forced out of retirement to hunt down replicants (fake humans) to keep them from getting on the welfare system. His job is to shoot them in the artificial face. Too bad one of ’em looks like a supermodel and he’s compelled to make out with her artificial face.

THE MATRIX (1999)
A computer whiz is sucked into a digital world where he has to do battle (to the death, of course) with an imperialistic program hell bent on deleting the mainframe world of L’users. Oops – sorry…that was the plot of Tron (1982).

At any rate, check out Tim’s mind-melding art by clicking HERE.

Sci-Fi That’ll Put You In A Coma

Coma, a 1978 hospital sci-fi thriller, has been resuscitated and remade for a two-night TV “event” on the A&E Channel, starting on September 3rd, 2012 and concluding on whatever day follows that. (Sorry – I only use ancient civilization calendar apps.)

Sporting an ensemble cast (Richard Dreyfuss, Ellen Burstyn, James Woods, Geena Davis, and Steven Pasquale, whoever the hell he is), Coma is described by some television hack who really knows how to chump a marketing opportunity: “Lauren Ambrose stars as Dr. Susan Wheeler in this thriller about a medical student who discovers that something sinister is going on in her hospital after routine procedures send more than a few seemingly healthy patients into comas on the operating table.”

B-O-R-I-N-G.

If you’ve seen the original, you’ll know what I mean by B-O-R-I-N-G in all caps. The TV show/movie, based on a Michael Crichton story, deals with the unsavory business of reluctant organ donors and the black marketing thereof. Here’s how it goes down…

You can check into Boston General, but you can’t check out. Even if you go in for emergency paper-cut surgery, you’re more than likely to have a reaction to the anesthesia and slip into the movie’s title. Once you’re in that blissful vegetative state, your body is moved to the state-of-the-art Jefferson Institute where they specialize in taking care of comatose patients unable to pay their medical bill.

Even though there were more-than-average incidents of people “dying” at Boston General, when the subtly sexy Dr. Wheeler’s girlfriend Nancy goes in for a little slice ’n dice, she ends up in a coma. When Wheeler investigates with the help of her boyfriend, Dr. Bellows (so named because he seems to yell a lot), they find out there’s some not cool medical monkey business going on.

The patients were intentionally over-gassed, their “useless” bodies taken to Jefferson, and their valuable innards removed, cleaned, packaged and sold on the organ Black Market (the inner guts version of a rummage sale). The scene where Wheeler goes into the Jefferson’s showroom and sees hundreds of naked bodies suspended horizontally while their vitals are awaiting to be extracted is one of sci-fi’s neatest shock moments.

When Dr. Wheeler takes her findings to the hospital’s head cutter and sips some comforting brandy offered by the devious doc, she starts to get all cramp-y and pass out-y. Good thing the doctor is there to put her in the “coma” ward and perform the gutectomy himself.

Things get blankie-grabbingly intense as Dr. Bellows races to save her. Who cares – I wanna know what happened to the rest of that brandy. Kinda clinical (sorry) at times, the corpses show more emotion than the doctors. Call me practical, but bodies suspended by wires awaiting organ harvesting appealed to me.

Consult your primary care physician before viewing.

Superman – 100 Years Old

Superman, an extraterrestrial from a distant planet (and currently a bona fide taxpayer of Earth), is arguably science fiction’s greatest icon, Godzilla and Flipper notwithstanding. So it makes perfect sense that some sort of acknowledgement of Superman’s contributions to crime-prevention and costume parties be put forth for publicness and stuff. Hence, the Adventures of Superman historical marker/plaque project.

As first reported by Armand Vaquer over at the way cool Monster Island News, “Plans are taking shape to celebrate the 100th anniversary of George Reeves’ birth in 2014 and part of the celebration is to dedicate a plaque at the spot of a location shoot for the 1953 episode, “The Man Who Could Read Minds.” (Note in case you’re from another planet: George Reeves portrayed Superman on TV.)

Screw a statue that Earth pigeons would probably just crap on, this is a plaque! You won’t see so much as a diving bell dedicated to Aquaman or a photo booth commemorating Hawkman. This is Super F’n Man, man – he deserves only the best.

The plaque dedication will take place in August 2014 on Reeves/Superman’s property in Tarzana, California. (I know what you’re thinking – doesn’t Superman have a secondary residence called the Fortress of Solitude? From Superman’s diary: “The Fortress of Solitude is the occasional headquarters of Superman in DC Comics. Its predecessor, Superman’s “Secret Citadel”, first appeared in Superman #17, where it was said to be built into a mountain on the outskirts of Metropolis. By issue #58 (May-June 1949) it is referred to as the Fortress of Solitude and said to be located in a “polar waste.” However, the Fortress does not actually make an on-stage appearance until the story “The Super-Key to Fort Superman”, published in Action Comics #241 (June 1958).

Super dweeb Jimmy Olsen (played by Jack Larson) will be on hand for the ceremony that I have as yet not been invited to.

Sure, we could’ve built him a tribute park or a christened a dock at the marina in his honor, but Superman wouldn’t have liked all this fuss. He’s as low key as they come. As such, the only ego-driven past time he indulged in was deflecting bullets with his face, toying with Lois Lane’s affections and roasting criminals with his heat vision, any activity of which would earn him a plaque a dozen times over.

A Monster Never Before Seen

 

In the upcoming Creepy Crawly, an indie short horror flick-o-rama, there’s a family that lives on a rural farm. Not sure if old MacDonald is somehow related. Seems like he could be, what with that hit song of his ’n stuff. The family probably grows bacon, hamburgers, hot dogs and all the other important food groups. But what they are soon to find out is that they beleaguered by a “creepy, bloodthirsty creature never seen before by human eyes.”

Theories abound – could the bloodthirsty creature be a country Chupacabra? If it was a farm in Mexico, maybe. The movie’s title might be a clue; if you’re taking a swing at it, go for some sort of snake-y/spider-y thing with red icky bumps on its face and death flaps hanging off its neck or something. Then again, the creature could be an inside out cow. (My instincts tell me I may be right about this one.)

Whatever it is, I’m sold. If this thing has never been seen before, then I HAVE TO SEE IT. I don’t know why, I just do.

Zombie Summer Camp

It’s almost like a recipe for cookies – one part summer camp, one part church and one part face-eating zombie. And while we’re in the kitchen, might as we’ll ransack the cupboards and throw in ten gallons of gore, a heaping of dark humor, and some raisins, which are mummified grapes.

Mix together and serve as Camp St. Zombie, an indie still-in-production horror/comedy hybrid. Whether we get to see it or not is another topic for discussion as the film, being financed on Kickstarter.com [click HERE to donate], has a way to go before they can slap an R-rating sticker on it. As of this blah-blah-blooging, there are 38 days left to help make Camp St. Zombie happen.

If it does happens, Camp St. Zombie will be about St. Lazarus, a camp for wayward children run by the catholic church. (And you thought Camp Crystal Lake was a death trap?) According to the press release: “two inept military soldiers dump a barrel of toxic waste into the lake and the children begin mutating into flesh-hungry zombies. Now a young priest and the rest of the camp counselors must defend themselves against a horde of undead children.” And I for one hope flesh gets consumed by the barrel full.

If Camp St. Zombie doesn’t happen, there’s always Nudist Camp Zombie Massacre/2011 (blood, monsters, aliens, vampires, zombies and naked people) and Zombie Cheerleading Camp/2007 (flesh-eating cheerleaders with bloody pom-poms).

I wish the summer camp I went to as a kid had zombies and naked cheerleaders. Then I’d be a much more emotionally balanced person and more open with my feelings and such.

A Monster With Sideburns

Equinox, a below-grade 1970 horror-sci-fi drive-in flick, is at least entertaining on a baked potato chip level. You kinda like it, but it still feels weird in your mouth. But Equinox is not without its charms; when you force yourself to sit all the way through it, there’s something vaguely familiar about the stop-motion monsters and SATANIC BOOK that summons them. According to Hollywood, due to the similarities in their plots, Equinox is believed to have inspired Evil Dead (1981). Need more proof? Both movies start with the letter “E”. Coincidence? I think not.

Two swingin’ early ’70s guys and two willing chicks go into the Southern California hills to have a Kentucky Fried Chick™ picnic and do battle with a mythical creature that looks like a clay gorilla with Motorhead sideburns.

The park ranger, named Asmodeus (why is it most park rangers have that very same name?), is after a Necronomicon-type book that allows him and his magic ring to call forth more creatures from Hell. Oh, crap – the early ’70s guys have the book. The professor who had it first, is probably under the rubble of his crushed house just outside of the Celtic castle in the middle of the woods that no one’s ever noticed before. And still the delicious skin-on chicken goes unfinished.

Three people go into the woods, one comes out – and gets run over twice by a car driven by an invisible entity. (They show it at the beginning and end.) He and his blow-dried hair survives, only to get locked up in a loony bin where no Motorhead gorillas, giant cavemen in purple leotards or winged demons can get to him.

Besides special effects that were clearly made by grade-schoolers or people just starting out in pottery, the entire movie is little more than Park Ranger Asmodeus trying to recover the book. Then again, Equinox does feature a monster with sideburns. Surely, there’s points for that.

Barbarella – Space Nympho

Some days you wake up and you win the Lottery. Or at least get a whistle in your box of Sugar Smacks™. My winning Lotto™ ticket, in the form of news, comes down the pipe that Drive director Nicolas Refn (never met him) is working with Gaumont International Television on a TV series based on the Jean-Claude Forest comic-book character made famous by the 1968 Jane Fonda film of the same name. In other words…BARBARELLA. Gee to the whiz, I can’t even look at Jane Fonda and not say unto myself, “Wow – that chick totally looks like Barbarella!” 

Someone, and I don’t know who, had this to say about Barbarella: “Originally appearing in a V-Magazine serial in the early 1960s, Barbarella, a young woman who traveled from planet to planet having often-carnal adventures, served as an early symbol for the sexual revolution that would blossom in the ensuing years.”

There was a sexual revolution? Why the heck am I always the last to know? But here’s what I do know about Barbarella…

A futuristic nympho takes off her space suit and has sex with anyone who so much as points their pocket rocket at her. Best movie ever.

In the year 40,000, Barbarella, some sort of special agent operative for Earth, is assigned to chase down Doctor Durand Durand and keep him from doing something  bad. Not sure why as I was distracted by all of Barbarella’s clothes changing.

Along the way she meets Pygar, a blind angel with whom she has sex. Then she meets the Catchman, a hunter of the ice, with whom she has sex. Then she meets Dildano (heh), the leader of the resistance, with whom she has sex.

Barbarella is later captured and put in the Excessive Machine, a device designed to pleasure its victims to death. (No, it’s not the Orgasmatron as everyone believes – that was in the sci-fi comedy Sleeper/1973. Do your homework.) She blows the machine’s circuits and seems disappointed when it won’t work anymore. Awesome, and yet typical of women of the past, present and future. Barbarella’s later locked in the Tyrant’s Chamber of Dreams, where the Black Queen lives. It looks suspiciously like the inside of a lava lamp. I’m pretty sure they rubbed each other’s future parts in said lamp of lava.

Heavy psychedelic visuals, kinda like your parent’s version of the future after they’ve taken some goofers. The sex is R-lite, but the free-spirited Barbarella is a joy to behold. Yeah, the sci-fi effects are outlandishly corny with a heavy dose of space hippie, but so what? She keeps taking off her clothes, man. I’ll say it again – best movie ever.

Giant Monsters Slap Each Other

Gargantua is a really cool name for a monster. It implies size and likely temperament, and would look badass on a T-shirt, to say nothing of the logo on coffee cups, fanny packs or even the hood of my car.

War of the Gargantuas, released by Toho (Godzilla’s monster garage) in 1966 in Japan as Frankenstein’s Monsters: Sanda versus Gaira, is one of those “so weird it’s good” giant monster movies. If you’ve seen it, fist bump to you. If you haven’t, you’re missing out on one helluva freakfest with an underpinning of loss, sorrow and snacking on humans.

Downtown Hong Kong real estate is being “re-developed” by two gigantic man-creatures. One is brown, the other green, and they both have shaggy hair and big lips, looking like 100-foot tall Mick Jaggers.

A baby Gargantua escapes from a lab and grows to be the size of a billboard. [insert science guilt here.] A giant octopus (cool!) attacks a freighter, but the Gargantua kicks its tentacles and finishes the job, eating all but one of the salty sailors.

The military tracks it to the mountains of Japan where they blast it with lasers, which make that neato crackly sound. Right before its about to die, a second Gargantua appears out of friggin’ nowhere (it was probably hiding behind a billboard) and saves his “brother.”

Rescued and rested, the hungry green monster resumes marauding and goes out for some fleeing citizens. A great moment in giant monster history happens here: A chick lounge singer is entertaining at the Haneda International Airport  lounge, performing “The Words Get Stuck In My Throat,” when Gaira crashes through the roof, grabs the warbling woman and is about to get her stuck in his throat. Or rather, she would have, but the sun coming out from behind the darkest of clouds stops him. He doesn’t like being in the spotlight. The singer does, though. (Historical note: Toho later added a shot of regurgitated clothes hitting the tarmac in the scene where Gaira chews before swallowing. Harsh.)

This sets off a running slapfest that stomps all over buildings, cars, and more than a few flower beds. The brown Gargantua (I call him “Nice-y”) knows what he has to do, which is to position themselves in such a way that the military can bomb the living crap outta them.

The Gargantua Brothers are friggin’ weird to look at as their facial expressions don’t really change. But their eyes tell their crushing sadness of being different from everyone else.

Sadly, Toho never made a sequel to War of the Gargantuas. Too bad – I would’ve liked to have seen Mom and Dad Gargantua come looking for their rowdy offspring, and bust up the place.

Moon Woman

I freakin’ hate Netflix™ for raising their prices and glutting themselves on grease-fried profits. But occasionally I keep my amplified grumbling to myself and neighbors when I come across heritage horror and sci-fi classics in their catalog. In this case Woman In The Moon, which came out in 1929. That’s when really old people were born.

Woman In The Moon continues with Austrian-American filmmaker Fritz Lang’s use of women playing strong pivotal roles (i.e., Metropolis, 1927) instead of doing the dishes or crying, like they were often portrayed as doing back in the really old people days. Called the “first real serious science fiction film,” Woman in the Moon, a silent movie (Silent? With a woman in it? Yeah, right. Note to women – kidding! Please let me feel you up) is Lang’s 26th in a career that saw a staggering 55 of his movies come to market.

Plowing through genres ranging from sci-fi and horror, to gangster and westerns, nearly all of them were done with Lang’s proprietary impressionism and ground-breaking use of light and shadows that didn’t involve some stagehand turning on and off a light switch after he yelled, “Action!”

Woman in the Moon (shouldn’t it be “on”?) is a timeless classic. In it, a scientist has irrefutable proof there’s gold on the moon, and insists someone build him a g*ddamn rocket ship right the heck now so he and some other scientific believers can go get it and become rich, I tell you.

Before they can get their launch pad on, mean criminals, hearing of the plan to mine the moon, force Professor Mannfeldt and entrepreneur Hellus (cool name) into taking them as add-on luggage. Hellus’ girlfriend Friede also luggages along. No space helmets required for anyone, just winter Cardigan sweaters as it’s friggin’ cold in space.

Once on the moon, gold, like so much lunar cheese, is f’n everywhere. A fight ensues, shots are fired, some words get said. A bullet takes out an oxygen tank, making it so not everyone can get back to Earth. Rock, paper, scissors provides the ultimate decision. (Not really, but I’ll just say it involved scientific methodology and the drawing of some sort of space straws.)

Prior to the trip, another scientist (only mentioned) theorized that the far side of the moon has a breathable atmosphere. This was later validated in 1973 by Pink Floyd. Man, people back in the late Twenties (and early ’70s) were so ahead of their time.

As for the “woman in the moon” part, who do you think drew the shortest straw?

Demon Ghost Priests

There is more gore, guts and leaking human radiator fluid in The Cemetery’s two-minute trailer than most horror movies have by the time the credits roll. And here’s the bestie best part – the liberated organs look real and not fake, like the ones on the evening news.

Arriving on DVD August 20, 2012, The Cemetery is a place of closure for unfortunates who died during exorcisms gone wrong. Of course, this didn’t happen in these days times. This was back in the pre-internet days of 1671, where those without TVs and spiritual substance were tortured to the point of blood gooshings by priests who tried their Christian best to cast out the demons who made you and me such filthy heathens.

Were they working in our best interest, or just really liking making us suffer and bleed all over the church/slaughterhouse floor? I think we all know the answer here.

Fast forward (or double click) to today. A team of cynical paranormal investigators plan to find out the truth of these past atrocities. Mind you, they’re thinking these old stories are just double cow flop, having done bogus shows on abandoned prisons, haunted houses and decrepit mental hospitals. All of which can be pretty dull if there are no real ghosts to mix it up with. So off they go into the spooky Pennsylvania woods where they become the by-products of discount butcher shops, made so by the demon ghost priests of yon.

So I’m thinkin’ good stuff here. And hey, The Cemetery’s soundtrack boasts some gnarly heavy metal stylings by Fleshgod Apocalypse, Ulcerate, Circle of Dead Children, and Squash Bowels. Sounds like the stuff the demon ghost priests do to the living. But with more solos.