Space 1979 Threequel Trilogy: The one they made to bring a character back to life

 

Title: Star Trek 3: Search For Spock

What Year?: 1984

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: What The Hell??? (3/5)

 

In considering choices for this feature, my hardest choices involved the Star Trek franchise. I grew up as an obsessive-compulsive Trekkie, whether it was original, Next Generation or Deep Space 9, and of course I saw most of the movies. The cinematic Trek universe is already famous for both some of the best and some of the most notorious of 1980s sci fi, including one I was definitely considering from the beginning. Up till now, I have held my fire, simply because there isn’t much of anything here that is neglected or in need of evaluation. Whether they’re considered the best like Wrath of Kahn or the worst like The Final Frontier and for that matter Star Trek: The Motion Picture, the Trek fandom has made sure that none of the franchise’s movies have fallen into true obscurity. The one I finally settled on as representative for all is the only one that I come closest to actively hating.

Our story begins with a recap of the dramatic finale of the last installment, when Spock sacrificed himself to save the Enterprise from the blast of the Genesis device. Kirk and the crew return to starbase, to discover that the damaged ship is to be decommissioned and scrapped. Meanwhile, Dr. McCoy is acting strangely. Kirk soon realizes that Spock’s mind lives on sharing the doctor’s body. To reunite Spock’s mind and body, they must commandeer the Enterprise for a trip back to the planet at the epicenter of the Genesis effect. Add in Kirk’s estranged son, mutated creatures, a renegade Klingon and a self-destructing planet, and you have… a movie?

Star Trek 3 was put into production immediately after the commercial and critical success of Star Trek 2: Wrath of Kahn. The project was written and produced by Harve Bennett, with the bold choice of Leonard Nimoy as director. Trek 2 director Nicholas Meyer departed, reportedly in disagreement with the decision to resurrect Spock, though he would return as co-writer of Star Trek 4 and direct again in Trek 6. Christopher Lloyd was cast as the villain, Klingon commander Kruge, a year before he would first appear as Doc Brown in Back to the Future. The movie was a box office success, and laid the way for three more franchise films with the original series cast.

When I was a kid, I went to Star Trek 4 through 6 in the theatres and to my recollection liked them all, including 5. I didn’t get to any of the earlier films until a bit later, and I really didn’t “get” them for quite a while after that. (I had no idea what the original film was like until college.) Back then, it was already an inside joke that the “even” ones were good and the “odd” ones were… less good. Star Trek 3 was usually supposed to be the exception. In further hindsight, its real position was simply one of maximum cover. It was between the two most popular movies of the franchise, and on either side of them were by far the most infamous of them all. Over time, I came to understand and appreciate the other movies better, but  3 was the one I never got around to, leaving me with only the recollections of a single rental in the early 1990s. Even from that, I started to become skeptical whether it was really any better than the more criticized films of the franchise.

I finally got around to viewing all the “odd” films in one go when I bought the franchise Blu Ray set a few years back. With that frame of reference, my impression of Search For Spock remained just one big pile of “meh”. It might not have the legendary problems that afflicted “Trek 1” (the one I really had in mind from the start) and Final Frontier, but this has more to do with a lack of ambition than its own merits. Inevitably, there are good moments, notably a lively heist-movie style sequence when the crew take the Enterprise out of space dock, but they are less interesting and even less satisfying than the weird and awkward moments of other movies in the series. On the other side of the balance are the calculated “dramatic” moments that simply feel checked off, with the exception of a tense scene when the Klingons board the Enterprise. This movie is also the one that sets off an uncanny feeling that has consistently hindered my appreciation of the franchise’s movies: It feels not simply less than the sum of its parts put like a synopsis of them, as if it was a synopsis of the movie rather than the story itself. Maybe this is just me, and I don’t pretend to be able to explain why it feels this way, but it’s my honest feeling.

When I viewed it for this post, what stood out all the more is how much flat-out weirdness is stuffed into the movie. Yet, even these simply sink into vaguely pleasant mediocrity. The most surreal element is the casting of Lloyd, who was already somewhat typecast as a comedic actor. Seeing him as a villain in generally “serious” production should have been the movie’s most intriguing twist, akin to Leslie Nielsen’s turn in Creepshow. His performance and character certainly contributes a number of the film’s better moments, and for me are a major reason the movie is watchable. But what we don’t know about him (especially his real affiliations and loyalties within the Klingon Empire) is ultimately more interesting than anything we learn onscreen, and the story does very little to turn the mystery to its own advantage. Like far to many things, his presence is an isolated oddity.

For the “one scene”, the one part of the movie that rises to its potential is a scene where possessed McCoy tries to hire his own ship. He wanders into what looks like the uptown version of the Mos Eisley cantina in hopes of hiring a ship to the Genesis planet. He alternately talks like himself and like Spock, in a genuinely impressive display of Deforest Kelley’s acting talent. When a disreputable captain arrives, he quickly grows impatient with pleasantries and euphemisms, declaring, “How can you get a permit to do a damned illegal thing?” Then, when one of the Federation’s officials tries to intervene, the doctor actually tries the Vulcan nerve pinch, and is amusingly surprised by the result.

It’s a great scene, but it’s the one that irritates me most. It may be played for laughs, but McCoy possessed by Spock actually has a better plan than anyone else. So what was stopping the filmmakers from going through with it? Replace the Enterprise (which they had to do in the next movie anyway) with a Millennium Falcon-style tramp freighter. Make it a race with the Klingons and the Federation’s well-meaning authorities, perhaps including Kirk himself (shades of “City on the Edge of Forever”!). Focus on the journey to the quarantined planet instead of the skullduggery at the end. It might not have been a better direction, but it would have been different, which is what is truly lacking in this movie.

In the proverbial cold light of day, that the common denominator in the “odd” films was studio interference. Star Trek: The Motion Picture was rushed to theaters virtually unfinished by suits who had never viewed it as more than a Star Wars cash-in, while the whole history of The Final Frontier amounted to William Shatner being pushed down the stairs. By comparison, The Search For Spock was the one that stands out as a flat out cash grab, and that remains my strongest issue with it. In taking that course, the production not only took the easiest path to more money and more movies, but avoided any fundamental change in the dynamics of the series. What’s most disheartening is that apart from Meyer’s symbolic departure, there were no signs of opposition to the plan, conspicuously from Nimoy. Once this train started, it was going to the station whether or not it had any brakes. I might not be able to justify giving it a rating lower than I have (especially after the movies I’ve gone easy on), but this is one time when merely mediocre is far worse than actually “bad”.

For links, the image credit goes to The Geeky Nerfherder. As usual, see the feature Introduction for the rating system and classification system. More to come, and I can't say I'm looking forward to it.

Movie Mania: Jaws the Game

 

With me movie review plans this week, I've been thinking over how to do a few quick toy blogs. After reviewing Jaws 3 and then looking through my old pics, I hit on a perfect solution: Start a new feature on movie toys and merchandise, with an egregious example already mentioned. I present for your consideration the Jaws game, still lying around the family estate. Here's a few pics to start things off.

The Jaws game was released in 1975 by Ideal. It was already reasonably routine for board games to be released based on movies and TV shows. Ideal's offering went in a new direction with a quite large shark whose (ahem) jaws could be rigged to snap shut with rubber bands. The goal was to pick various pieces of flotsam from out of the shark's mouth using a providing tool that looks like a dental pick. It was similar to Ideal's 1970 game Buck-A-Roo as well as Operation, and likely influenced other action-gimmick games like Crocodile Dentist. Somewhat unusually, the game was re-issued without the movie name Sharkey's Diner.

My own recollections of this game are simply of having it around forever. I can't recall if I ever played it, but I can remember looking over the pieces, so we must have gotten it out once in a while. It will be clear that the shark is the worse for wear; the eyes are stickers that are peeling, and the teeth have been mostly separated for a very long time. I always remember the pick being taped up with what looked like a paper clip, a further indication it must have gotten used at some point. It was only when I researched this post that I found out it was originally all plastic. It does still come with all the original pieces, one of which only turned up after I had taken most of the pics. Here's a shot of the pieces, instruction sheet and the end of the box.

Inevitably, the main attraction for me was to play with it as a toy. I can only remember trying two or three times at most, and even with the imagination of young me, it never quite worked. The obvious problem was that I had no idea how to rig the jaws (and still don't). Without that, the jaw just sort of flops up and down, as seen in these pics. Examining it now, the fins are just as problematic, clearly and correctly designed to hold the shark up at an upward angle but a direct obstacle it you try to maneuver it to dive or even strike straight ahead. Still, I'm sure I got at least a little play out of it  Here's a few pics with old and new playmates.

"I think we need a bigger rake."

It's Sidekick Carl, he'll be fine. Maybe.

I think I need a  bigger couch.

There was just one more thing to try, just for fun. It's not like it's really... Oh, Hell no.

You should've seen the one that got away.

There you have it, folks. Jaws is bigger than Godzilla.

For links, here's a video and followup about the game by John Wild, and a Battlegrip post that includes some vintage advertising.

Space 1979 Threequel Trilogy: The one that was supposed to be a National Lampoon parody of its franchise

 

Title: Jaws 3 aka Jaws 3D

What Year?: 1983

Classification: Weird Sequel/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: Dear God WHY??!! (1/5)

 

Since this feature hit the 25 review count, I’ve been kicking around some new ideas and different directions. One thing I got back to was an early decision to avoid “franchise” movies, which excluded at least one of the very first movies I listed for consideration. For the next few reviews, I’m not only reversing that decision, but looking at a particular category, the “threequel”. With those parameters, there was no better choice than one of the very first examples, and still one of the most infamous offenders of all, Jaws 3.

Our story begins with the appearance of the movie title, which snaps like the jaws of the titular creature. After more aggressive 3-D lettering in the credits, we see a waterskiing team, and we will see much, much more. Over the next few scenes, we are introduced to a theme park identified as Sea World but feels more like a science-fictional undersea lab, complete with a control room and a network of glass tunnels that look like a hamster Habitrail. The futuristic feel is heightened when we meet our hero Mike Brody, introduced as the son of the police chief from the previous movies but clearly aged far more than the 8 years since the original movie came out. All is not well, as one of the park employees is gruesomely devoured within its boundaries. Brody leads a hunt, aided by Kay, the chief biologist, Fitzroyce, an obnoxious big game hunter, and a pair of friendly dolphins. Surprisingly, they manage to catch the shark in good time, and it becomes a new exhibit. But the shark quickly dies, right about the time the biologist examines the lunched employee. She reveals that the shark that killed him is much bigger… and still in the park.

Jaws 3 was the third film of the Jaws franchise, one of the first American movie series not based on books or other pre-existing material and possibly the first to use simple numbered titles for the sequels. The movie was infamously first proposed as a parody with the backing of two producers of the original movie, a move opposed and ultimately stopped by Universal Studios. The final script was based on a story and outline by the respected writer Richard Matheson, who had previously written the script for Duel for Steven Spielberg from his own short story.  Joe Alves, a production designer for the original movie, was chosen to direct. Dennis Quaid was cast as the junior Brody, with Bess Morgan as the biologist/ romantic interest and Lou Gossett Jr. as the park owner. Roy Scheider specifically refused to return as Chief Brody. The film was made for $18 million, twice the budget of Jaws, and filmed in 3-D, a move which contributed to significant problems with image quality when the movie was released on TV and home video. It was commercially successful with a gross approaching $90M but poorly received by critics. Later reviewers would argue between Jaws 3 and 1987’s Jaws: The Revenge as the worst in the franchise.

I remember being very aware of Jaws as a kid in the early to mid 1980s. (Sooner or later, I’m definitely going to do a post about the Jaws game.) To my recollection, I asked my family to rent the first movie not long after we finally got a TV and VCR, and I was duly awed all the way into adulthood. I have further recollections of seeing ads for airings of the sequels, particularly Jaws 3, on TV. However, I didn’t get around to watching it until four or five years ago. I went in interested by the science fiction elements as well as Matheson’s participation. On finally watching it, my immediate and strongest reaction was that it was quite inexplicably boring. I went back to it for this review, and quickly found it far more perplexing.

The central reality of the movie is that most of the human characters register as little more than generic and vaguely annoying, egregiously Gossett. As a further consequence, the central conflict is effectively between the shark and the theme park symbolically intruding in its realm. Viewed in these terms, the movie actually works well enough for a while, especially up to the capture of the first shark. The problem is that the shark can no longer simply lurk out of sight, and the effects have not improved nearly enough to make it believable or menacing in its own right. Matters are made far worse by heavily overlapping issues with optical effects and image quality. At least as seen in “2D”, the grain and quality of much of the film looks like it was shot for 1980s syndicated television rather than a big-budget studio production, while the underwater effects sequences literally look like they could have been done in the 1960s. Badly.

All these issues still don’t get to the most fundamental problem of the movie: Most of its length is a tug of war between the surreally weird and simply boring. The former moments come principally from the shark attack sequences, and still are very mixed. The most genuinely effective (and seriously considered for the “one scene”) are an early faceoff between a shark and the dolphins and the demise of the big game hunter, seen from inside the (big) shark’s mouth. But these are largely negated by the mainly optical sequences of the shark attacking the habitat, by far the worst of the movie, the series or quite possibly the decade. The most egregious absurdities comes in the finale, where the creature first appears stuck in the main window of the control room like Pooh after eating too much honey, then blows up into more pieces than the Death Star.

 In the other column are scenes that are irritating or banal: Skinny dipping (with the “skinny” implied at best), and romantic meet-cutes, and dancing, and water skiing, and water skiing, and water skiing. And did I mention there’s a lot of water skiing? Then there’s extra “cringe” moments from Gossett, notably a line about segregation that by all indications is meant to be a joke, plus the incomprehensible participation of Sea World, which in light of later events is absolutely ghoulish. These are the scenes that mock the filmmakers and the viewer with the possibilities of what might have been if the comedy/ parody angle had been approved. Indeed, it is the precise lack of self-aware humor that haunts every aspect of the production like the ghosts from a native burial ground, holding back what could be “so bad it’s good” to just bad.

For the “one scene”, the one redeeming scene that stood out from the first viewing comes at the start of the final act, when the big shark attacks a Habitrail tunnel full of guests. The point of view starts and for the most part remains within the tunnel interior, a dramatically conventional choice that actually works within the limitations of the effects. It starts with a girl innocuously shouting that she sees a fish, then repeating a more ominous warning. As the group begins to react, the tunnel becomes simultaneously exposed and claustrophobic. Then the shark strikes, and within moments, water is pouring in. The group frantically rush for the exit, only to find the path already sealed off. Those who are furthest ahead find a place of at least temporary safety between two bulkheads, if the one behind can close fast enough. Like far too many of these moments, it’s a great scene that needed a far better movie. 

The closing word here is on the rating, which I have given to very few movies and then mostly to ones I flagged very early (especially Inseminoid and Laserblast). With this one, I was ready to give it the lowest rating at the start but came very close to giving it at least one higher. The one thing that decided me is that the quality of the effects, and that is a true first. What should put this in perspective is that this movie cost not only twice as much as the first movie but about as much as Empire Strikes Back, and it quite simply looks like garbage. Never mind comparisons with Jaws, the Delaurentiis knockoff Orca looked better than this. Disney’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea looked better than this, almost 30 years earlier. Dark Star didn’t look much worse than this, and its effects included an actual beach ball. Of course, it must have been difficult to get everything right while filming in 3D with 1980s equipment, and then convert it back for VHS and DVD. But the whole point of the franchise was always that it doesn’t take the latest technology to tell a good story. That is what makes this film a total waste of talent as well as money, especially for Alves, who of all the people involved had the least excuse. It’s bad enough to put good talent in a bad movie, still worse to do so in a movie that could have been good, and that is how you get a movie with no right to exist.

For links, Screen Crush gives an insightful review of the movie and an overview of its reputation. As usual, the classifications and rating system are outlined in the feature Introduction.

Legion of Silly Dinosaurs: Dinobots crossover!

 

If there's one thing that's been a surprise with this blog, it's that I haven't done a lot more entries for this feature. I have definitely been feeling like doing something dino-related, and to that end, I came up with this post as a catchup. When I was growing up, I loved robots almost as much as I loved dinosaurs, so of course, I was mesmerized when I found out that the Transformers and certain other lines featured robot dinosaurs. Alas, I never got any of these as a kid, but over the years, I've picked them up here and there. Here's a rundown of my dinobots.

When I thought of doing this post, there were three I thought of immediately. As is often the case, this original lineup did not include the major, name-brand dinobots, and I hadn't really missed them. Instead, they consisted of two "knockoffs" and one of the "spinoffs" to the Transformers line. Here's pics of the dino/ alt modes.

Of these, the one I've had longest and the one that has interested me most is the red one. It's a knockoff I got for Christmas when I was about 12. From my usual uncanny recollections, it was sold at the local grocery store, I think with a few others even I don't recall. I seriously considered this guy for a "Mystery Monday" entry, as I have never found identification of the manufacturer or any independent record of the line. Here's more pics of him being transformed.

It will be obvious that this is the biggest of the group. In fact, this is probably the biggest bot I actually had as a kid, definitely bigger than the Robotech guy. It's a uniquely simple and robust style, even more so than the Gobots, which has made it particularly difficult to come up with a real lead. The face piece is no longer completely secure due to a broken peg. Originally, it could turn around when the bot was in dino mode, but tends to fall out if it's reversed. The chest piece clearly has openings for an electronic sound gimmick, but it's really just a shell, indicating that the design was stripped down after the original molds were created. There is also a tiny compartment in the back that might have been intended for a battery. Here's another shot with the Truckstop Queen.

"If I didn't already have a boyfriend..."

The next in the lineup is a recent find, actually purchased at a museum gift shop. It's part of a line called Adventure Planet that includes a variety of creature-transformers as well as "straight" playsets. It's most noteworthy for looking like a "real" dinosaur, a bit old-school and quite nice. The alt mode is really more of a shell that the bot retracts into. Unfortunately, it's none too sturdy with a very serious flaw in how the legs are anchored. It doesn't help that the head literally comes out of the posterior. Here's some pics of his transformation.

The third bot is the one authorized Transformer, one of the "single step" ones that have been on the racks in recent years. The transformation involves pushing down on the dino head. There's also an action feature where the tail goes up and down if you push on the back plates. Here's a few more pics of him, and another of the main group.

The one name-brand, full-sized dinobot in this lineup is one I bought on sale a year or two ago. I almost left him out because I literally couldn't transform him. I finally worked it out after taking most of the pics I wanted. Here's a few pics of him, and the trouble I had with the transformation.

"I swear, this has never happened before."

"On second thought, I'm not into metal."

The extra guy in the lineup is the oldest of the lot, and another mystery item. I got him as a reward in school in 1987. He's a pencil sharpener, still functional as such. He would originally have had a hinged belly plate (which must have been sculpted with the tips of his feet) and two little arms, as I recall with  C-clamp pincer hands. My most distinct recollection is that there was also a pair of scissors (maybe just pictured on the packaging) that were made up as a sort of robo pterodactyl. The only surviving manufacturing mark says, "Made in Hong Kong". Even in his current state, he's still cool and cute.

That's all for now. As always more to follow. Here's another take of the lineup to wrap up.

The one with a car, a cartoon dog and the voice of Bugs Bunny

 

Title: The Phantom Tollbooth

What Year?: 1968 (completed)/ 1970 (release)

Classification: Irreproducible Oddity/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: Downright Decent! (4/5)     

 

For this installment, I’m back with something else I said I wouldn’t do in my Introduction, an animation review. I’m honestly doing this, because I’ve ended up with a shortfall at both ends, with material I plan to review that I haven’t given a proper viewing and other stuff I’ve viewed but haven’t decided how or if to include. It’s a testament to the present selection that I made time in the middle of it all to watch one particular movie, one I watched when I was young and found far more relevant when I looked it up again. This is The Phantom Tollbooth.

Our story begins with a musical number accompanying a kid named Milo wandering around town. When he returns, he find a huge box sent special delivery. Declaring he has nothing better to do, he pulls a tab on the box, and a toll both unfolds, complete with a kid-sized car. He drives through and discovers an allegorical fantasy world divided between the realms of words and numbers, each with its own eccentric ruler. It’s revealed that the kingdoms were once united, but split after the disappearance of their original rulers, the princesses of Rhyme and Reason. With the aid of the Tock the Watchdog and the Humbug, he sets out to find the princesses, only to find the path blocked by the Lethargians, the Terrible Trivium and the Demons of Ignorance.

The Phantom Tollbooth was produced from 1966 to 1968 by the animation division of MGM, the studio that had previously thrown its hat in with the original Tom And Jerry shorts, based on a 1963 novel by Norton Juster. The studio brought in WB/ Looney Tunes director Chuck Jones for the project, along with the legendary voice actor Mel Blanc. The main roles went to radio personalities Larry Thor and Les Tremayne as Tock and Humbug, with Butch Patrick cast as Milo both as voice actor and in opening and closing live action sequences. The film’s release was delayed until late 1970, to generally good reviews but uncertain returns. MGM closed its animation division and withdrew from the industry soon after the film’s release, a decision that was most likely made prior to and independent of the film’s success or lack thereof.

My own story with this film is that I was shown the film in 5^th or 6^th grade in the early 1990s. I can also just remember reading portions of the book, I think before I saw the toon. The book struck me as a somewhat odd fantasy, mostly interesting for the character of the Watchdog. The movie was… something else. As with many things, I remembered it but didn’t think to look it up again until years later, when I bought it for viewing material on my epic trips to and from my first job. One of these days, I may get back to the book, too.

Watching the movie as an adult, the most striking and disconcerting thing about it is how conventional it is for most of its length. The musical numbers especially are quite generic, with the exceptions of “Noise, Noise, Noise” and the Doldrums sequence (dear Logos, more on that shortly). The rogues’ gallery of supposedly “whacky” characters, including several of those voiced by Blanc, tend to come across as either underdeveloped or trying too hard. Even Milo coasts along a little above the level of a cipher. These and further issues with pacing and tone make far too much of the film feel like a better movie’s filler.

The counterbalance to all of this are the moments that seem to come out of nowhere and hit like a ton of bricks. Some of the “wacky” scenes do manage to achieve real effect, particularly a sequence where a conductor directs a sunset and Milo tries foolhardily to follow up his act. Then there are the scenes with the Watchdog, the most vivid and well-realized character in the movie. Finally, there are the Watchdog’s opposite numbers, the various Demons. They are at once silly, banal and chilling, especially the faceless Terrible Trivium, who tries to befriend the protagonists before revealing his true nature. It ends in a melee slew of improbable monsters labelled with all too familiar titles that gather together into one giant monster, for an allegorical battle that wears its moral on its sleeve without quite becoming moralizing.

For the “one scene”, sticking with the established format, the choice was always going to be the scene in the Doldrums. Early in his adventures, Milo takes a detour in a swamp that rivals the planet Dagobah for strangeness. Soon, his car is deeply mired in the midst of beings called the Lethargians. The creatures prove almost but not quite shapeless, seemingly of a piece with the muck of the swamp. They even multiply by fission and slump back together, producing freakish visuals that I absolutely remembered from my very first viewing. They sing their song to Milo, slowly becoming more malign as his car sinks deeper, seemingly losing its own shape as it disappears into the slime. Then the Watchdog rushes to the rescue, promptly warning Milo, “They don’t want you doing anything, including eating and breathing!”

In hindsight, The Phantom Tollbooth is another movie that marked the end of an era, particularly for the studio that made it. It also represents a truly irreproducible experiment, merging old-school wacky and new-wave psychedelic under the uncomfortably banner of corporate-sanctioned morality. One extra discovery I made is that Norton Juster is still alive, and apparently active. For me, this movie represents the year 2016, when I was spending 4 to 5 hours a day on public transportation, and other developments were quickly making it all the more relevant. I post this review now as a hopeful gesture. I rediscovered this movie at the tail end of the darkest chapter of my life. I can hope that coming back to it now can mark the start of better days.

Retrobots Revisited: The other Tomy bot!

Way back when I introduced this feature, I introduced the little windup tentatively known as the Tomy Rascal Robot. In the course of that review, I mentioned there was one more bot that had eluded me. That was the end of the story at that time, and like many things, it went by the wayside for other things. In the course of going through some old pics for the giant Iron Giant post, I realized that I hadn't gotten around to posting an update. Early this year, I finally bought one of these little guys online, whom I dub Robbie. Here's a few pics I took at the time.

For the circumstances leading up to the purchase, the main factor was simply that I finally got a decent number of listings when I went looking. The one I got was specifically sold as not working for a bit less than several others. The arms proved mobile; the right one turns a full 360, while the left one is obstructed by the knob. I was a little optimistic that I might get it working. On examination, I determined that the legs still moved readily enough if pushed, indicating the action wasn't completely jammed. Alas, working from the other end, there was no result at all. The little knob to wind it up didn't even stick or jam, it just turns and turns without any result at all.

As for further research, the main thing I confirmed is that the Rascal Robot, Acrobot and Robbie were sold collectively as Pocket Bots, as documented at The Old Robots. The first two were also sold on card under their names, but Robbie lacks a known official moniker, a further indication he was made last. An extra discovery I made is that certain copies of Robbie have the Boeing logo on the dome. I actually saw a specimen on sale, for not much more or less than others, but didn't try to buy it. As previously documented, the Rascal Robot has been reissued, but Robbie and the Acrobot fell out of production by the mid- to late 1980s.

That's what I have to report, and really wraps up this story. As always, more to follow. While I'm at it, here's a pic to wrap things up.

Space 1979: The one where euthanasia is practiced at age 30

Title: Logan’s Run

What Year?: 1976

Classification: Runnerup

Rating: For Crying Out Loud!!! (2/5)

 

In the course of this feature, I have already featured several films that were suggested to me when I first proposed my idea. During that process, there were a very few films where I got pushback in the other direction, particularly when I was explaining and further developing my idea of “runnerups”. This was usually not because anyone thought they weren’t reviewing, but because they were and are influential enough that some didn’t like having them presented as “second” to other films. The big one was Dark Star, which I finally used as an example of other categories and subcategories, followed by Westworld, which I talked myself out of. With this review, I’m finally getting around to one more that was controversial but in my mind from the beginning, in part because it took this long before I was in the right mood to take a look at it.

Our story begins with exterior shots of a futuristic cityscape sitting in the midst of a vast wilderness, and it’s already clear that this is not a standard urban utopia. We then meet the main character Logan and his associate Francis, who speak of themselves as “sandmen” while looking in on a nursery where every infant has the same crystalline implant on their palm. In the course of a little more exposition, we learn that they are the hatchet men of the insular city-state, tasked with hunting down and summarily executing anyone who passes the ripe old age of 30. But the unseen rulers are concerned there are more people missing from the city than the sandmen have accounted for. Logan accepts a special mission to find the fugitives’ way out of the city and see if they have perished or found a sanctuary on the outside. A series of improbable adventures follow, and the most difficult trial awaits when he tries to come back home.

Logan’s Run was produced by MGM very loosely based on a novel by William F. Nolan. The project was originally helmed by the legendary George Pal, before Saul David took over in 1974. Michael York was cast as Logan, with Richard Jordan as Francis and Jenny Agutter of American Werewolf In London as the romantic interest Jessica. The supporting cast included thespian Peter Ustinov, previously introduced to younger audiences as Prince John in Disney’s Robin Hood, as an old man found by the fugitives, and Rocoe Lee Browne as the voice of the renegade robot Box. Some scenes were censored to avoid an R rating in the US, though several scenes of nudity remained in the PG-rated theatrical release. The production was completed for up to $9M and made $25M in the United States, making one of the most expensive and commercially successful science fiction movies between 2001 and Star Wars. Fatefully, MGM let go of the sequel rights to Westworld in favor of Logan’s Run, allowing AIP to make Futureworld.

My own history with this movie began well before I saw it. In the 1990s, if anyone got to talking about 1970s science fiction, the two that would always be mentioned were Star Wars and Logan’s Run. I finally rented it on video when I was finishing high school, around the time Phantom Menace came out. From what I remember, I liked it well enough, but it didn’t make a big impression compared to its reputation. I didn’t think to look it up again until about a year ago, when I had to buy it because it was no longer available from Netflix disk rentals. In hindsight, that alone was the big alarm bell how badly this one had aged.

The strongest impression I get watching this movie when I bought it and again for this review is awkward and self-dated. The best frame of reference is Zardoz, the one movie I might give a better rating if I get around to taking this feature beyond the blog, and that’s a very bad sign at the start. In those terms, it’s not nearly as pretentious or obtuse, but fails to get anywhere near the sheer insanity that made that movie potentially tolerable. Moreover, where Zardoz builds up to a kind of internal logic, this movie pretty much admits its premise is nonsense at the start. Apart from anything else, there’s no way the city could be overcrowded enough to justify the sandmen’s function, to the point that most of their victims are gunned down in empty corridors. And regardless of what we see (or don’t) onscreen, it doesn’t take an anthropologist or a biologist to see that this is going to backfire at some point. If people expect to be dead by age 30, what’s to stop them from becoming grandparents at 28? 

Anything that works in this movie comes from the opening scenes and the middle act. The city itself is well though-out and impressively executed. That in turn sets up for an effective transition when the characters get outside. The reactions, especially from Agutter, range convincingly between wonder, fear and disgust as they go through the wilderness to the ruins of earlier civilization. The most genuinely entertaining moments come when the city dwellers meet Ustinov and see the effects of old age for the first time. That is followed well enough by an intense and unsettling fight scene where the artifacts of the bygone world become literal and symbolic weapons in the hands of those who know nothing of their origin and meaning. These scenes make the finale even more disappointing, as the city-state is overthrown for no better reason than that the filmmakers had to do something to end the movie. 

For the “one scene”, my choice was always going to be the appearance of Box. It’s the scene that marks the symbolic break from the order of the city-state to the wilder world beyond, and the movie’s one all too brief moment of the inspired insanity that marked pre-Star Wars Seventies science fiction movies. After following an escape route revealed by other would-be fugitives (and making a completely unnecessary wardrobe change), Logan and Jessica are suddenly greeted by a very jovial robot. The creation looks like something that could have been cut from Dark Star as too cheap and silly, seemingly made from tin foil, vacuum hoses and for some reason a number of mirrors, with a further tendency to wobble as it moves along. It’s all more than made up for by Browne’s superbly unbalanced delivery. His enthusiasm does not diminish as he reveals the fate of the other fugitives to cross his path, and then breaks out his weapons. The ensuing fight is short but effectively paced, with one surreal final line from the bot as his surroundings collapse.

Coming back around to my personal judgment, this is a movie that I would never have considered for a series like this if I had had the idea 20 or even 10 years ago. Back then, its reputation would have seemed beyond question or doubt (the surest sign being a parody on The Simpsons). But enough time has passed for its fame to fade enough to show its faults. What makes things entirely depressing for me is that this was released literally at the same time George Lucas and Fox were making Star Wars, on an only slightly larger $11M budget. With this much genuinely promising material, couldn’t someone have  just stopped and thought of how to do this a little bit better? It may not be as irritating as Zardoz, as offensive as Space Mutiny or as flat-out terrible as Inseminoid, but this is the movie that is truly the emperor with no clothes.

For links, the image credit goes to Space 1970 (again). As usual, see the Introduction for an overview of the feature, classifications and rating system.