Forbidden World (1982) – Review

Welcome to the Forbidden World, where science is dangerous, aliens are juicy, and every woman is either a scientist, a seductress, or both, usually while standing next to a fog machine and covered in baby oil. This 1982 cult classic is what happens when you mix Alien, Barbarella, and a 13-year-old boy’s imagination, all under the slimy supervision of B-movie king Roger Corman.

The story follows Federation marshal Mike Colby (Jesse Vint), who lands on the planet Xarbia to investigate a government-sponsored genetic experiment gone wrong, which, of course, is just code for “spend 77 minutes being chased by an alien made of rubber and regret.” Mike is a government “troubleshooter,” which apparently means flying into biohazard death zones and seducing every woman within tractor-beam range. The experiment, naturally, is a bio-engineered mutant lifeform called “Subject 20” that promptly begins killing everyone in the research facility. 

 

“What? Science always has a few setbacks.”

And who will provide our “science” for this outing? Most importantly, at least for this kind of movie, we have Dr. Barbara Glaser (June Chadwick), the sultry, soft-spoken scientist who never met a situation too dangerous for a shared shower. Barbara balances her scientific curiosity with an uncanny ability to appear in sheer robes at all the wrong (or right?) times. She’s got brains, beauty, and a knack for calmly studying a mutant that’s trying to eat everyone. Her counterpart, Dr. Tracy Baxter (Dawn Dunlap), is the nerdier but no less cleavage-forward lab assistant who’s also deeply committed to science, unless there’s a chance to flirt with Colby.

 

Who says science can’t be seductive?

Next, we have Dr. Gordon Hauser (Linden Chiles), the head of research and the one who refuses to let the hero just kill the thing, because you have to have at least one irrational scientist in your cast who demands, “We must preserve the creature in the name of science!” But this film has two; we also have Dr. Cal Timbergen (Fox Harris) as the team’s lead geneticist and the creator of the genetically engineered lifeform, Subject 20. He’s obsessed with the science behind it and blind to its growing threat. His ambition to control evolution proves to be his downfall. You know, your typical mad scientist. Meddling in God’s domain is a regular Thursday night for him.

 

Welcome to the galaxy’s most poorly supervised lab.

Rounding out the cast is lab technician Jimmy Swift (Michael Bowen), who is more of a quick snack for the monster than an actual character, and then there is electrician Brian Beale (Raymond Olive), the station’s head of security and resident macho asshat. He makes up for being bad at his job by dying quickly. And finally, our real MVP: Subject 20—a squishy, slurping, DNA-abomination from space hell, that started as a genetically engineered organism designed to end famine but kind of went in the wrong direction. Their goal sounds noble, right? Wrong. Because these guys don’t care about things like ethics or basic safety protocol and will ignore good sense to achieve said goals. Needless to say, they will not achieve these goals. Subject 20 doesn’t want to solve world hunger—it wants to be the one doing the eating. Together, this crew delivers space horror as only the early ‘80s could: steamy, screamy, and extremely gooey. It’s a symbol of science gone way off the rails.

 

There’s no containment protocol for this much goo.

Faster than you can say “Recombinant DNA,” this synthetic protein lifeform quickly mutates into a hulking, goo-dripping, alien nightmare with a face only H.R. Giger’s lawyer could love. It slithers through air ducts, dissolves its victims into gooey puddles, and metabolizes human flesh like it’s sipping a smoothie. One by one, the crew members are picked off in gloriously gory fashion, accompanied by the pulsating synthesizer soundtrack of a late-night fever dream. But fear not! There’s still time for a gratuitous steam room scene, some aggressive ‘80s space romance, and plenty of “Oh no, it’s in the lab again!” moments. Eventually, Colby and the surviving crew must figure out how to stop the monster before it reproduces…or worse, escapes.

 

“Sorry, guys, but not all of us are going to make it.”

Stray Observations:

• The opening space battle is all recycled from Roger Corman’s Battle Beyond the Stars. Corman has always been a conservationist at heart. God bless him.
• To save even more money, they reuse the same film sets designed by James Cameron for Roger Corman’s Galaxy of Terror. Strange that Cameron has never reused any of his sets from Titanic.
• While Beale stalks the facility’s corridors, heading off to his death, the film does quick cuts to Colby and Barbara having sex. I’m no professional film editor, but this was definitely a weird stylistic choice.
• We get our group of idiots scrambling over a very familiar rock outcropping, because you’re not a proper science fiction movie if we don’t see Vasquez Rocks. Sadly, no Gorn makes an appearance.
• Roger Corman has never shied away from ripping off Star Wars, and this film is no exception; the robot SAM-104 looks like it was purchased at an Imperial outlet store.

 

“I may look like a stormtrooper, but I have better aim.”

Directed by Allan Holzman, and proudly stitched together from spare parts of better movies, this gloriously trashy sci-fi horror gem is the kind of cult classic that wears its B-movie badge like a sticky badge of honour. And let’s be clear, Forbidden World was made for drive-in screens and VHS covers. The gore is juicy, the effects are slimy, and the creature looks like a cross between an alien, a blender, and a rubber chicken—especially in the third act. There’s an impressive amount of screaming, melting, and synth-drenched tension, and just as much gratuitous nudity, often inserted with no narrative justification other than “it’s the 1980s and we can.”

 

It’s a forbidden world of ridiculous puppets.

It should surprise no one that the “science” in this science fiction movie is dubious at best. This is the kind of movie where a scientist will solemnly utter: “The creature is composed of synthetic DNA… and it’s feeding on protein.” And then, not five minutes later, someone’s head explodes in a glorious fireworks display of slime and foam rubber. It’s all very serious, you see. But let’s be honest—no one comes to Forbidden World for its hard-hitting dialogue. You come for the monster attacks, the low-budget practical effects that somehow still rule, and the fact that every other scene ends in a scream, a shower, or a sizzling pile of goo. Often all three.

 

“Doctor, you’ve looked better.”

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: this movie looks cheap. Like, “shot-in-your-buddy’s-garage” cheap. The sets are made of fast food cartons and shiny wrapping paper, the monster costume looks like it was cobbled together from melted Halloween masks and then poured over the xenomorph from Alien, and the special effects are about as convincing as a child’s crayon drawing of outer space. The editing? Choppy. The lighting? Mostly “brown.” The monster attacks? Shot in slow motion and awkward close-ups to hide the fact that the creature is about as scary as a soggy beanbag chair. But let’s be honest—this isn’t really about the story or scares. This is a parade of gratuitous nudity, cheap gore, and synth music that sounds like a robot having an existential crisis. It’s Alien meets Skinemax After Dark, sprinkled with mouldy cheese.

 

“I’m not bad, I’m just written that way.”

In conclusion, if you’re into rubber monsters, synth scores, and the kind of movie where science is mostly just an excuse for mayhem and skin, Forbidden World delivers the goods in gooey, guilty-pleasure fashion. Just don’t go in expecting 2001: A Space Odyssey. This is more like 2001: A Space Orgy, with a killer mutant and some dry ice fog for good measure.

Galaxy of Terror (1981) – Review

A doomed crew. A haunted planet. And the most awkward worm-related death scene in B-movie history. Step into a sci-fi nightmare where your fears kill you…not to mention your fashion sense as well. Brought to you by Roger Corman, intergalactic king of “What did I just watch?”

In the distant future (which suspiciously looks like a smoky soundstage), the crew of the spaceship Quest is sent on a rescue mission to the mysterious planet Morganthus, a dead world that eats space travellers for breakfast. The previous crew disappeared, and on the world of Xerxes, the Planet Master, someone whose face is obscured by an aura, wants answers or at least some gooey corpses to bring back for analysis.

 

“We need to send some very expendable people.”

The crew of the Quest is a varied and uneasy mix of spacefarers sent to a mysterious planet to investigate the fate of a missing crew. At the helm is Captain Trantor (Grace Zabriskie), a burned-out war vet who looks like she’s been surviving on rage and black coffee for the last decade. She’s afraid of fire. Guess what happens to her? That’s right, flambé Trantor, courtesy of a severe case of PTSD. Space HR should’ve seen this one comin’. Her second-in-command, Commander Ilvar (Bernard Behrens), is a calm and level-headed leader, balancing Trantor’s edge with rational authority. He is wise. Has a beard. He’s close to retirement. Immediately gets his face hugged by a space lamprey and dies like he’s in a deleted scene from Alien. He may have been in charge, but clearly not of his own survival. 

 

When hentai tentacles attack.

Next is Baelon (Zalman King), the aggressive and prideful team leader on the ground mission, basically, if toxic masculinity wore shoulder pads, that’d be Baelon. He barks orders, ignores good advice, and dies as he lived. Being a complete and utter dick. Next, we have Cabren (Edward Albert), who’s handsome, skeptical, and has the survival instincts of someone who’s read the script. We also have, of course, the prerequisite inexperienced crewman along for the ride, Cos (Jack Blessing), who is easily frightened and may as well have “Dead Meat” tattooed on his forehead. Then there is the mystic and stoic Quuhod (Sid Haig), a man of few words and even fewer facial expressions. He’s great with throwing stars, less great with existential dread. He ends up standing still and letting himself be killed because, deep down, he’s afraid of… killing? Not killing? It’s very Zen. And very dumb.

 

“I swear on this blaster, I will not be the first to die.”

Should we bring along an Empath? Sure, why not? Which would be Alluma (Erin Moran), who feels everyone’s feelings… which is a real drag when you’re surrounded by anxious redshirts. Despite her powers, she gets clobbered by invisible forces, kind of like a space poltergeist throwing a tantrum. Her death is sudden, random, and somehow still more dignified than most. Supporting them are the excitable cook and comic relief character Kore (Ray Walston), who harbours a secret. And finally, we have Dameia (Taaffe O’Connell), the ship’s tech and a capable crew member whose infamous death scene has become legendary in B-movie history. Yes, this is that movie. The one infamous for the notorious “giant maggot scene” that veers so far into exploitation it makes you question the meaning of cinema itself. It’s tasteless, uncomfortable, and somehow both baffling and predictable. Truly the Corman special.

 

“In space, no one can hear your therapist quit.”

Upon arrival, the crew discovers the wrecked ship and a pyramid-like alien structure that seems to be messing with their heads. It turns out the pyramid is alive (kinda?) and taps into each person’s deepest fears, and then kills them with those fears, sometimes with worm monsters, and sometimes with awkwardly Freudian metaphors that have no business being this vivid. Think “haunted house” meets “Freddy Krueger in space,” with less logic and more tentacles. As they go deeper and deeper into the pyramid, things briefly veer from terrifying to awe-inspiring.

 

“Was this place built by the Krell?”

One by one, the crew is picked off in gloriously goopy ways, until Cabren and Ranger make it to the heart of the pyramid to confront the truth: the pyramid is some kind of alien training ground or mind-test simulator left by an ancient race (or something) to evaluate human leadership and fear response. Eventually, Cabren faces off with the big boss — and the reanimated version of his dead crewmates — in a battle of wills and metaphysical nonsense. The pyramid’s testing ends, the horrors shut down, and Cabren… maybe becomes the new master of the pyramid? It’s vague, it’s philosophical, it’s very “we ran out of script, but it looks cool.”

 

Who needs things to make sense?

Stray Observations:

• Captain Trantor launches her ship without proper time for her crew or cargo to be properly secured, and she ignores the computer preset coordinates for hyper-jump. Does this make her a badass or grossly negligent and possibly insane?
• Alluma is the ship’s empath, a career position and annoyance factor similar to that of Deanna Troi on Star Trek: The Next Generation.
• A bloody corpse drops from the ceiling of the crashed ship our heroes are exploring, and their first reaction is to throw a crystal shuriken into it and then set it on fire with a flame thrower. These are not ideal actions for a supposed search and rescue operation.
• While climbing an ancient alien pyramid, Commander Ilvar takes a break from feeling overwhelmed by his surroundings to hit on Dameia. He must have gone to Captain Kirk School of Command.
• We never see Ranger die, yet Cabren never looks for him, nor do we ever see Ranger again. Did he leave that poor guy behind?

 

“I’ll haunt your dreams for this, Cabren!”

Directed by Bruce D. Clark and produced by the legendary Roger Corman, this film exists at the intersection of science fiction, psychological horror, and unabashed exploitation cinema. Though often dismissed for its lurid content and derivative structure, Galaxy of Terror deserves a closer look for the way it reflects the anxieties of its time and showcases the ingenuity (and excess) of B-movie filmmaking in the early 1980s. The setup is reminiscent of Ridley Scott’s Alien, and the parallels are obvious: claustrophobic space corridors, a team dynamic fraught with tension, and a creeping, unknowable menace. 

 

“If anyone comes across large egg-like things, do not look inside.”

However, Galaxy of Terror is more philosophical in its horror (if less subtle), drawing from psychological terror as much as monster mayhem. It postulates that fear itself is the enemy, manifesting each crew member’s personal trauma or dread into fatal, often grotesque scenarios. While the film lifts heavily from its more prestigious predecessors, it also taps into the existential dread popular in science fiction at the time: that the universe is not only indifferent but actively hostile, and that technology and reason are no match for the chaos within the human psyche. These ideas are wrapped in garish special effects and exploitative imagery, but they are there, lurking beneath the surface, like the very monsters the film depicts.

 

Could one of these people be the true monster?

What Galaxy of Terror lacks in narrative finesse, it compensates for with striking visual ambition. The film’s sets, many of which were overseen by a young James Cameron, are surprisingly atmospheric given the limited budget. Harsh lighting, coloured gels, and fog machines are used to disorient the viewer, enhancing the hallucinatory tone of the story. The alien structures are bio-mechanical in appearance, evoking a sense of decay and malevolence that enhances the film’s themes of fear and the unknown.. There’s genuine ambition here, even if it stumbles over itself trying to be profound, scary, and sleazy all at once. It’s less “science fiction” and more “space horror funhouse ride”—one that’s equal parts cool and cringeworthy.

 

“They wouldn’t kill off the love interest, would they?”

The ensemble cast provides performances that are functional rather than compelling, with many characters existing more as archetypes than individuals. Yet, there is a certain earnestness in the acting that grounds the more absurd moments. Robert Englund, in particular, brings a nervous energy to his role, hinting at the screen presence he would fully develop later in his career as the infamous Freddy Krueger. The characters are less defined by dialogue or development and more by the specific fears that destroy them. This reduction serves the plot’s focus on psychological horror, but limits our investment. As a result, Galaxy of Terror often feels more like an anthology of gruesome deaths than a cohesive character-driven narrative.

 

When gore trumps plot.

In conclusion, Galaxy of Terror isn’t a good movie in the traditional sense, but it’s a fascinating one. It’s a 1980s VHS fever dream filled with guts, latex, and deeply questionable decisions. As a product of Roger Corman’s genre factory, it embodies both the strengths and weaknesses of exploitation cinema: the ability to provoke, to disturb, and occasionally to illuminate. So, if you’re a fan of midnight movies, cheap thrills, or just want to see what a Corman budgeted version of Alien would look like, you’ve found your cult classic.

Battle Beyond the Stars (1980) – Review

There have been several films that have “borrowed” from Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai, the most notable being The Magnificent Seven by Preston Sturges, but I doubt even Kurosawa could have dreamed someone would take his premise and re-imagine it with aliens, laser battles and a spaceship with large breasts.

The movie opens with Evil Space Man Sador (John Saxon) giving the people of Akir a chilling ultimatum: submit to his rule and become part of his empire, or get vaporized when he returns with his stellar converter, a weapon capable of turning entire planets into glitter dust. The villagers of Akir respond in the only logical way: send the shyest, most inexperienced guy they can find on a galaxy-wide mission to find mercenaries. Enter Shad (Richard Thomas), a sweet farm boy now tasked with finding mercenaries to defend their homeworld. But he’s not sent off alone, he’s travelling the galaxy in a talking spaceship shaped like… well, let’s just say Freud would have had a field day. Nell (the ship voiced by Lynn Carlin) moans, groans, and sasses, making you question every life decision that led you here, but before our hero can round up those much-needed mercs, he must make a pit stop at the space station of Doctor Hephaestus (Sam Jaffe) with the hope of acquiring weapons. 

 

This guy looks totally trustworthy.

Unfortunately, the doctor wants Shad to mate with his daughter Nanelia (Darlanne Fluegel), by force if necessary. Needless to say, Shad is not too keen on becoming breeding stock, and he convinces Nanelia to let him go and join in the fight. It should be noted that while she provides no weapons, she does bring along a highly advanced computer system that can help predict Sador’s attacks. More importantly, she’s the closest thing this film has to a love interest and, unlike Princess Leia, she won’t turn out to be the hero’s sister. The two quickly split up to look for more mercenaries, all with varying degrees of skills.

 

“I’m not exactly magnificent, but I am drunk.”

• Cowboy (George Peppard): He’s not a soldier, not a mercenary—just a laser-rigged delivery driver for Earth’s weapons supply. But when he sees Shad in trouble, he doesn’t hesitate to jump in, bringing his cargo of heavy-duty firepower and down-home wisdom.
• Gelt (Robert Vaughn): A Jaded Assassin with a Heart of… something. He has mad sniper skills, dry sarcasm, extreme moral ambiguity and offers to fight for the villagers in exchange for “a meal and a place to hide.”
• Cayman of The Lambda Zone (Morgan Woodward): Reptilian-looking alien whose skills include blowing things up, being surprisingly noble, and he hates Sador for wiping out his race and fights with style, guts, and scales.
• Nestor (Earl Boen et al.) A hive-mind collective that shares one brain. Nestor is… well, Nestors. They’re a race of identical white alien clones who share thoughts, senses, and their only fear is becoming bored to death.
• Saint-Exmin (Sybil Danning): An Intergalactic glamazon with a plunging neckline and a death wish, looking to prove herself in battle. 

 

Fun Fact: Her costume uses more metal than her ship.

The ragtag defenders of Akir return just in time to prepare for Sador’s arrival. They train the locals, set traps, and do their best to turn farmers into fighters. What follows is a surprisingly ambitious space battle—especially for a movie made on a shoestring budget—with laser dogfights, kamikaze maneuvers, and more model spaceship explosions than you can shake a proton blaster at. Each mercenary gets a hero moment. Cayman rams a ship, Exmin goes out in a blaze of laser glory on her way to Valhalla, Cowboy dies the way he lived—coolly and with bourbon, and Gelt finally finds peace in the arms of death.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ve booked a part in Superman III.”

Shad finally faces off against Sador in a last-ditch, underdog showdown. With Nell damaged and many of his allies gone, and Nell caught in a tractor beam, Shad activates Nell’s self-destruct program, which explodes and causes the Stellar Converter to backfire and rip apart Sador’s flagship. The Akira are saved. Most of the mercenaries are dead, but are remembered as heroes. Shad and Nanelia decide to rebuild—romantically and agriculturally. The moral of the story? Always be nice to assassins, never underestimate a farm boy, and never trust a mutant with a stellar converter.

 

“I wanted to live forever!”

Stray Observations:

• The natives of Akir are known as the Akira. An obvious nod to Seven Samurai director Akira Kurosawa.
• Cowboy offers to help with the ground defences, but despite his skill and cargo of handguns, I don’t see that being all that useful when Sador’s “Stellar Converter” can destroy a planet from orbit.
• Robert Vaughn’s Gelt is similar to his character in The Magnificent Seven, with some of his dialogue lifted almost verbatim from that film.
• Fans of classic science fiction television may recognize the actress who plays Lux, an Akira who hooks up with Cowboy, as actress Marta Kristen, who played Judy Robinson on Lost in Space.
• The space battle footage was so expensive and well done (for the price) that it was recycled in other Corman films throughout the 1980s and even appeared in some TV shows.
• The film has a wonderful alien cast. You’ve got a hive-mind lizard, a glowing telepath, a mutant with interchangeable heads, and a mercenary with a grudge. Basically, the Star Wars cantina after karaoke night.

 

“I’m taking you to Jabba’s palace.”

Produced by Roger Corman and directed by Jimmy T. Murakami, Battle Beyond the Stars may be another cash-in on the success of Star Wars with a plot borrowed from The Magnificent Seven, but beneath the spandex and Styrofoam, there’s a lot of heart. The film knows exactly what it is and leans into the absurdity with glee. It’s not trying to be Star Wars—it’s trying to be a good time. And on that front, it delivers. Loudly. Cheesily. Gloriously. As for the special effects? Honestly, for a Corman film, they’re shockingly decent, thanks to young James Cameron working in the art department before he went off to build Titanic-sized careers. The spaceship designs are creative (if occasionally questionable—Nell’s, um, anatomy is… bold), and the laser battles are charmingly outdated.

 

Millennium Falcon, eat your heart out.

The soundtrack, composed by James Horner before he ascended to Hollywood legend status, goes way harder than the film probably deserves. You’ll find yourself wondering why a movie that features a spaceship with breasts has music worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy. But here’s the thing: Battle Beyond the Stars doesn’t care what you think. It’s having fun. It’s earnest, it’s scrappy, and it’s full of heart. It’s the kind of movie where every dollar of its $2 cheeseball budget is stretched to $2.50 through sheer enthusiasm. It wants to be a space epic—and in its own gloriously goofy way, it kind of is.

 

“Please get writer John Sayles on the phone.”

While the plot of this film is recycled from Seven Samurai and The Magnificent Seven, years later Zack Snyder would take his own crack at it with his Netflix offering Rebel Moon, but where Battle Beyond the Stars cost a whopping $2 million, Snyder’s film had a combined budget of $166 million. That means Zack Snyder’s budget was 8,200% higher than Roger Corman’s flick. Visually, Rebel Moon is a showcase of epic landscapes, massive ships, and high-tech warfare. But the polish doesn’t always translate to engagement. In many places, the film feels sterile, more focused on image-building than world-building. Where Battle makes you wonder how they pulled it off, Rebel Moon makes you wonder why you don’t care more.

 

You can’t put a price tag on charm.

In conclusion, Battle Beyond the Stars is a scrappy, energetic sci-fi cult classic. It’s a patchwork quilt of genres: one part Western, one part samurai film, three parts space nonsense. And that’s why we love it. It’s a cosmic B-movie love letter to the power of imagination, duct tape, and just enough budget to be dangerous.

Galaxina (1980) – Review

There once was a glittery artifact from the golden era of late-70s, early-80s sci-fi spoofs — a low-budget, tongue-in-cheek movie that tried to riff on Star Wars, Star Trek, and Barbarella all at once, a film that somehow ended up feeling like a stoned Saturday morning cartoon for adults. This artifact would be, of course, the cult classic Galaxina. 

Written and directed by William Sachs, Galaxina is what happens when you mix sci-fi, bad jokes, and painfully slow pacing, and then forget to add the fun. Supposedly a parody of Star Wars and other space operas, this 1980 misfire feels less like a clever spoof and more like a half-hearted high school play with a bigger budget and no direction. In the distant year of 3008, humanity has apparently survived everything except good fashion sense and sexism. The film follows the misadventures of the crew of the Infinity, a kind of interstellar patrol ship that looks like it was built from leftover parts at a sci-fi yard sale. Not that the crew is much better.

The Wrong Stuff.

The Infinity is manned by your typical ilk found in films of this nature; there’s incompetent captain Cornelius Butt (Avery Schreiber of Doritos fame), his first officer, Sgt. Thor (Stephen Macht), a man more interested in his rowing machine than his job as a space cop, then there is pilot “space-cowboy” Pvt. Robert “Buzz” McHenry (J.D. Hinton), who fills the prequiste Western character that seems so important in older science fiction shows and movies. Then there are the ship’s mechanics, Maurice (Lionel Mark Smith) and Sam (Tad Horino), who aren’t quite up to Harry Dean Stanton or Yaphet Kotto’s standards, but they do try. Finally, we come to the key crew member and title character, Galaxina (Dorothy Stratten), a voluptuous blonde android servant who does most of the actual important stuff aboard the Infinity, such as navigating and basically keeping the crew alive. She will also be forced to dress like a French Maid and wait on the crew, because, why not? And what perilous mission is this stalwart crew sent on? They sent off into deep space to retrieve the “Blue Star,” a legendary, powerful gem that supposedly grants immense power to whoever possesses it but that no one really knows how to use. Standing between them and their goal: a galaxy filled with weirdos, space bikers, spaghetti Western planets, and very little common sense.

“You can tell we’re on an alien world because of the colour filter.”

To prepare for the long journey through deep space, the Infinity’s crew enters a “hibernation” period — a form of cryo-sleep that will last for 27 Earth years. Galaxina, being a robot, remains awake to pilot the ship and maintain its systems during the voyage. During this long period alone, she becomes curious about human emotions, particularly love, after secretly reprogramming herself based on old romantic media stored in the ship’s database. All this is so she can have a relationship with Thor. And why would she want a relationship with a man who has the personality of a trash compactor? Well, other than dreaming of electric sheep, what is an android to do with herself?

I think she needs a self-esteem update.

Upon arrival at Altair One, Galaxina ventures into a town inhabited by alien creatures who consider humans a delicacy, and it’s here we get our Star Wars cantina scene. She encounters Ordric, a masked figure who also seeks the Blue Star and after a High Noon confrontation, Galaxina defeats Ordric and retrieves the gem. However, she is soon captured by a biker gang that worships a deity named “Harley-David-Son” and plans to sacrifice her. Thor and Buzz rescue Galaxina, but Ordric, having survived being gunned down, boards the Infinity and reclaims the Blue Star. But lucky for our heroes, an alien creature, previously birthed by Captain Butt after consuming a mysterious egg, intervenes and defeats Ordric. In the end, the crew discovers that the Blue Star has been eaten by another alien prisoner aboard the ship, rendering their mission futile.

“Would you be a dear and eat the director?”

Stray Observations:

• The film opens with a long text crawl followed by a spaceship slowly passing by the camera. I guess if you are going to rip off Star Wars, it’s best to let the audience in on this fact from the start.
• The pacing is slow and the music is ponderous, even using Strauss’s’ Also sprach Zarathustra from 2001: A Space Odyssey, which is an odd choice for your low-budget space parody.
• Sam is Asian, so he constantly quotes Confucius because racist stereotypes never go out of fashion, not even in the year 3008.
• The laser sound effects were borrowed from 1978’s Battlestar Galactica. I guess if you are going to riff on Star Wars, you may as well borrow from something that was also ripping it off.
• The name of the correctional prison planet was “Altair One,” which is a possible reference to “Altair IV” in Forbidden Planet.
• Every time the Blue Star is mentioned, an invisible heavenly chorus is heard by the characters, in one of the few running gags that kind of works.
• It’s illegal for the crew to fraternize with Galaxina, as it is against the laws of nature and the Federation to have sex with a robot, but then why dress her up as a sexy French maid? 

Does having blue balls improve performance?

Visually, the film punches above its weight. It’s a mix of impressive-for-the-budget miniatures and sets, alongside very obvious cost-cutting choices, the script being the most obvious one. The movie is openly derivative, borrowing visuals and concepts from Star Trek, Star Wars, Alien, and Barbarella, among others, but without much thought going into the jokes. However, Galaxina doesn’t aim to compete with those classics, instead, it uses their familiar imagery to deliver a satire of science fiction tropes, sadly, not all that successfully. Bad writing aside, the film did have some power behind the camera with Dean Cundey as the film’s director of photography, who would go on to work on films like John Carpenter’s The Thing and Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park. He does solid work here under the circumstances. Easily the best production aspect of the film are the spaceship models and miniature sets — while clearly constrained by budget, they show a surprising level of creativity and charm. 

I’ll grant that the Infinity is a cool-looking ship.

Unfortunately, charm will only get you so far. Galaxina tries desperately to be funny, tossing out gags about alien diners, space cults, and intergalactic police departments at random. The problem is, the jokes are so lazy and drawn out, you can see the punchlines coming from galaxies away. Scenes drag on endlessly, characters bumble around in ugly rubber suits, and the special effects, while occasionally charming in a cheap-and-cheesy way, can’t save the fact that nothing actually happens for most of the runtime. The movie also can’t seem to decide what it wants to be: Is it soft sci-fi, a bawdy comedy, a love story, or a series of awkward sight gags strung together? Director William Sachs appears to answer that question with, “Why not all at once, and badly?”

Note: Do not expect exciting space battles. In this universe, combat consists of two ships sitting still while firing back and forth at each other, waiting to see whose shields fail first.

What gives Galaxina an extra layer of emotional complexity, however, is the tragic fate of its star. Dorothy Stratten, whose natural beauty and screen presence elevate the material, was murdered by her estranged husband shortly after the film’s release. Her death casts a long shadow over the movie, transforming what might have been a disposable piece of cinematic fluff into a haunting time capsule. She brought a quiet, graceful presence to the role, and while the film didn’t give her much to do beyond looking stunning and eventually developing feelings, she’s still the film’s best element. Watching Galaxina today, it is difficult not to feel the weight of what might have been, as Stratten shows real promise as a comedic and dramatic actress despite the film’s limitations.

A salute to what may have been.

In retrospect, Galaxina stands more as a fascinating artifact of its time than it does a good science fiction parody — a film that captures the excesses, ambitions, and tragic losses of the early 1980s entertainment world. It is a flawed, uneven, and often baffling dumb outing, but it is also sincere in its oddball intentions. For those willing to meet it on its own bizarre wavelength, Galaxina offers a glimpse into a bygone era of cinematic experimentation, wrapped in silver jumpsuits, neon lights, and bittersweet memories.

The Batman vs. Dracula (2005) – Review

In the crowded world of Batman adaptations, The Batman vs. Dracula stakes (pun intended) its claim as one of the more bizarre, yet surprisingly effective, entries. Released in 2005 and spun off from The Batman animated series, this direct-to-video movie takes the Dark Knight into full-on horror territory — and it works way better than you might expect.

The premise is gloriously pulpy: The Joker (Kevin Michael Richardson) and the Penguin (Tom Kenny) break out of Arkham – the place does seem to have an open-door policy – with the intent of finding money presumably hidden in a crypt at Gotham Cemetery, but instead of riches, the Penguin accidentally awakens Count Dracula himself (Peter Stormare), buried beneath Gotham Cemetery. Naturally, Dracula sees Gotham as a fresh new buffet of souls.

 

This is why I avoid cemeteries as a general rule.

Once revived, Dracula seeks to reclaim his dominion by turning Gotham into his new kingdom of the undead. He hypnotizes Penguin, making him his bumbling human servant, while setting his sights on building a vampire army. Dracula begins feeding on Gotham’s citizens, turning them into his vampiric thralls. As citizens start vanishing (or worse, becoming vampires), it’s up to Batman (Rino Romano) to solve the mystery and stop the ancient evil — all while juggling his daytime identity as Bruce Wayne and maintaining his already shaky relationship with the public, made even more difficult as some witnesses are blaming Batman due to Dracula also wearing a cape. 

 

As if the GCPD needed any more reasons to hunt Batman.

To make matters worse, Dracula has set his eyes on Vicky Vale (Tara Strong), seeing her as an ideal subject to revive his vampire bride, Carmilla Karnstein. Needless to say, this heightens Batman’s personal stakes in the matter, and he is forced to confront the reality that Dracula is no ordinary villain and it’s up to our Dark Knight to ride to the rescue with not only some nice garlic bombs but some extra pieces of super science to hopefully vanquish this ancient evil. But can even Batman’s scientific mind, brilliant detective skills, and supreme fighting ability stand against such a powerful supernatural foe?

 

“I’ll use your cape as a dinner napkin.”

Stray Observations:

• The opening credits state that Batman was created by Bob Kane, which not only left out writer Bill Finger as co-creator of Batman but also Bram Stoker as the author of Dracula.
• The elaborate “prison crypt” that held Dracula bears some resemblance to what Tom Cruise found in the 2017 version of The Mummy.
• Upon learning of The Batman, a man dressed as a bat, Dracula is impressed by what his legacy has produced. Lucky for Batman, Dracula didn’t seek out a bloodsucking lawyer to sue the caped crusader for likeness rights.
• Dracula, introducing himself as “Alucard” (“Dracula” spelled backwards), was also used by Lon Chaney, Jr. in the title role in Son of Dracula.
• Dracula’s bride, Carmilla Karnstein, has had several nice film adaptations, such as The Vampire Lovers and Twins of Evil.
• Dracula’s Castle, as seen in the Transylvanian flashback, bears an uncanny resemblance to the castle Dracula calls home throughout the Castlevania television and video game series.

 

If only the Arkham Asylum video games featured Dracula.

This animated outing is stylish without being too grim, keeping the art deco-meets-anime vibe for which The Batman TV show was known. The action scenes are fluid and creative, especially when Batman has to fend off entire hordes of the undead with a combination of gadgets and sheer grit. The movie also includes several elements from Elseworlds tale Batman & Dracula: Red Rain – an obvious inspiration for this movie – and visually, the film leans into that gothic imagery, with lots of shadowy alleyways, crumbling graveyards, and mist-shrouded streets. We also get a nice nightmare sequence that lets the filmmakers revel in the horror.

 

This is about as freaky as you can get.

Tonally, the movie finds a sweet spot between superhero action and classic horror. It’s darker than the average animated Batman fare, but still accessible enough for teens, and it actually manages to be unsettling at times, with Dracula depicted as a legitimate threat, not to mention the reanimated undead looking quite creepy. The film also plays well with Batman’s strict no-kill rule — something that becomes quite a dilemma when facing an undead monster. It’s a nice tension point. Of course, not everything works. While Joker gets some fun moments, his inclusion feels more like a studio note to keep familiar villains in play rather than a natural fit for the story.

 

Did we really need a vampire Joker?

In conclusion, The Batman vs. Dracula is better than it has any right to be. It’s a fun, moody horror-Batman hybrid that delivers thrills, chills, and a solid story in a tight 83 minutes. While it might not hit the emotional highs of Mask of the Phantasm, it’s still a worthy entry in Batman’s animated library, especially if you like your Dark Knight facing down literal monsters.