Starchaser: The Legend of Orin (1985) – Review

Once upon a time in a galaxy not-so-far away (specifically, the 1980s), someone asked: “What if Star Wars, He-Man, and Heavy Metal had a baby… and that baby was raised in a video rental store?” The answer, dear reader, is Starchaser: The Legend of Orin, a movie so boldly bonkers, so gloriously awkward, and so utterly 1985, it practically demands a standing ovation from fans of bizarre animated sci-fi.

This 1985 sci-fi fantasy blasts off with a plot so familiar that George Lucas probably felt a cold chill run down his spine when it premiered, before immediately realizing he was totally safe. We are first introduced to Orin (Joe Colligan), a rebellious caveboy living in a dystopian future where people have been mining crystals for a “god” named Lord Zygon (Anthony De Longis). His people live under the electric whips of robot overseers, but things take a turn for the better when Orin finds a magical sword buried in a cave wall that he’d been space-mining, which emits a “magical” hologram, who is totally not Obi-Wan Kenobi, and tells them of a world above the caves and “magnificent universe beyond.” Orin and his girlfriend, Elan (Noelle North), set out to discover this universe, but they soon run into Zygon, who strangles poor Elan to death.

Don’t you hate it when a love interest is fridged this fast?

Determined to uncover the truth, Orin escapes to the surface, encountering a harsh world filled with dangers. He quickly gets in over his head — literally — as he is captured by decaying cyborgs known as Man-Droids, who intend to harvest his body parts. In a twist that should surprise no one, the hilt emits an invisible blade, allowing Orin to defend himself and escape. He then runs into Dagg Dibrimi (Carmen Argenziano), a cigar-chomping, selfish, wisecracking smuggler who’s basically Han Solo if Han had less charm and sported a kicky neckerchief. Also, along for the ride is Silica (Tyke Caravelli), a reprogrammed office fembot who develops feelings for Dagg. But how does he reprogram a government fembot? Simple, he gags her and does some anal probing.

Things I didn’t need to see.

After many terrible misadventures, such as Dagg abandoning Orin and giving Silica to some slavers, making him not much of a Han Solo analog as he is a complete jerk rather than a lovable rogue, but the team is eventually back together again and on the run from Zygon’s minions. After getting shot down, Orin is found by the beautiful Aviana (also voiced by Noelle North), who’s not a princess but is the governor’s daughter, while poor Dagg falls into the clutches of Zygon he is given the standard interrogation technique you expect in space fantasies.

Hopefully, this will improve his personality.

While recuperating in Aviana’s boudoir, Orin learns that his “bladeless” sword is no ordinary weapon. It’s a sentient lightsaber with a moral compass that has been used by the Kha-Khan, a group of legendary guardians, to vanquish threats to humanity. It only reveals its full power when the user is “worthy,” and to be fair, as galactic heroes go, he’s a little off in the worthy category. But regardless of that, our band of plucky heroes will escape capture, get captured again, find themselves separated, until being reunited for the final battle.

“Do you know where we could find some Ewoks?”

As for the villain. Well, it turns out that Zygon isn’t a god; he’s just a cyborg despot who runs an interstellar crystal empire and likes to cosplay as an evil wizard. He commands an army of robotic thugs and has been hiding his goal of destroying humanity for centuries, and only the Kha-Khan have been able to thwart his plans over the years. The film concludes with Orin learning that he didn’t need that magic sword; he had “The Force” all along, and is about to cut Zygon down without it and free the enslaved galaxy. The fortress explodes (of course), and with Zygon defeated, the people of Trinia rise, their chains broken. Orin and Aviana embrace. Dagg… well, Dagg’s now officially hooking up with a robot. The galaxy, for the moment, is free, and Orin has become the legend he was destined to be.

“You’re not going to turn out to be my sister, are you?”

Stray Observations:

• The opening credits include “Starring the Voices of” and then proceed to list actors no one has ever heard of. Yeah, who needs celebrity casting?
• Orin pulls the magic sword out of the stone, which makes this thing a cross between Excalibur and a lightsaber.
• To prevent George Lucas from feeling too bad, Zygon’s robot guards resemble the Cylon Centurions from the television series Battlestar Galactica more than they do Stormtroopers.
• Zygon’s robot soldiers blow up when shot, but Dagg was able to use Silica as a “human shield,” and she takes no damage when hit. Were office droids given better armour plating for some reason?
• Aviana rides a horse similar to those found in the sci-fi fantasy cartoon Thundarr the Barbarian, which was ridden by Chewbacca knock-off Ookla the Mok.
• This film was released in old-school 3D. Yep, the kind with red-and-blue glasses! Starchaser was one of the first animated movies released in stereoscopic 3D. That explains all the random objects flying directly at the camera.
• Orin cuts Zygon in half with his “lightsaber,” and his two halves plunge down a deep chasm, which looks a lot like the fate of Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace.

Did Lucas rip off this film for his prequels? 

Produced and directed by Steven Hahn, Starchaser: The Legend of Orin is a curious artifact of mid-1980s animation, a film that boldly reached for the stars but mostly ended up caught in the asteroid belt of its more successful cinematic forebears. The film’s derivative plot isn’t helped by its uneven pacing or clunky dialogue. Characters appear and disappear without development, motivations shift on a whim, and the entire story seems to exist as a loose scaffolding for action sequences and recycled genre tropes. Orin, the ostensible hero, is a bland cipher, while Dagg—despite some attempts at antihero charm—often comes across as obnoxious or, frankly, creepy. And with a production budget of approximately $14–15 million, it only managed to gross $3.36 million at the U.S. box office, making its chances of a sequel slim to non-existent.

“Never tell me the odds.”

That said, where Starchaser distinguishes itself, however, is in its tonal dissonance and ambitious blend of genres. The film aims to be an adult-friendly animated adventure, featuring gunplay, death, and even sexual innuendo, while still visually resembling Saturday morning cartoons. This tonal clash can be jarring: one moment features slapstick robot sidekicks, the next reveals unexpectedly dark themes such as slavery, deception by religious authority, and a villain who is far more sadistic than his PG-rated contemporaries. It’s like someone tried to cram Flash Gordon, Heavy Metal, and a church youth group message into one film. The result? A confused Frankenstein of Saturday morning cartoon and fever-dream sci-fi exploitation.

Nightmare fuel, anyone?

Technically, Starchaser was ahead of its time in some respects. Its use of 3D was pioneering for animated features, and it made notable use of computer-generated backgrounds blended with traditional cel animation, a precursor to later advances in animated filmmaking. The animation, while rough around the edges, showcased detailed ship designs, imaginative alien worlds, and a degree of visual flair that helped separate it from lower-budget contemporaries. The visuals are all over the place: at times surprisingly cool with detailed backdrops and cool effects, and other times looking like someone spilled neon markers all over a storyboard and called it a day.

We do get worlds that look like Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath album covers.

Yet for all its faults, and oh, there are many, Starchaser is wildly entertaining. It’s got that “how did this get made?” energy that turns a flawed movie into an unforgettable ride. It tries so hard to be epic, to be edgy, to be the animated space opera of its time. And in doing so, it ends up as a lovable, clunky space oddity, one that fans of cult animation, vintage VHS sci-fi, or just plain weird cinema will adore. It’s uneven, a bit exploitative, but also epically earnest in that beautiful, synth-drenched, animated ’80s way.

“One hero. One prophecy. Zero budget.”

In conclusion, Starchaser is a relic from a parallel dimension where copyright lawyers fear to tread, and storytelling logic went on permanent vacation. It’s a glorious mess, a bootlegged rollercoaster, and possibly the weirdest use of 3D since Jaws tried it. Watch it with friends, snacks, and a strong drink. Or don’t. The Legend of Orin will live on… in VHS bargain bins and confused YouTube compilations forever.