No need to get into the loony plot. Thanks to this ghastly treasure, I nominate Ordung and Tucker for the Outpatient Hall of Fame. After all, who else but the ditzy would think a gorilla suit topped by a diving bell is the stuff of nightmares. And if that's not scary enough, top it off with a menacing Lawrence Welk bubble machine. Still, when those alien bubbles came flying at me, I was under the bed in nothing flat.
Yes indeed, this lunatic mess qualifies for not just any award, but for a big fat Golden Turkey. I love it when the world's at stake, and a shirtless Roy and a busty Alice traipse off to the weeds for some serious canoodling. Nice to know Hollywood won't let world's end interfere with a commercial product. But the movie's real star is lowly Bronson Canyon. It's a burned up pimple on the face of LA that no 50's schlock would be complete without. Then too, I love the way a waddling Ro-Man clumps up and down the desiccated slopes like he's looking for Humane Society rescue. Oh well, what can you say about a near home-movie that cost all of sixteen grand. Heck, production companies spend that much on lunch these days. Still, someone should have let the cast in on the joke. They play things like there's an Oscar at stake. Anyway, a tip of the diving helmet to the makers of this inspired mess. Meanwhile-- Is it safe to come out now?