Robot Monster (1952)

I should start off with my initial impression of this magnum opus...it's not that bad, since at the very least it's entertaining. My most hated film of all time, Vice Academy, still tops this film in dosages of pain per minute, as does a few others I could mention. But it didn't feel that way as my friend Jen and I heroically struggled through this lovely gift from our ancestors in that dark, abyssmal era known only as the 1950s. Still, the countless continuity problems and gigantic potholes in the script can provide hours of fun for the seasoned B-meister, if not as much pure surreal enjoyment as Plan 9 From Outer Space or Missile to the Moon.

We know we're in trouble when the first characters we see are the Nauseating Kids, Johnny and Carla. As you might expect, because this is the way things should be, the boy's a rapscalion while the girl just wants to hold her doll and play house. Dear God, they're so archtypical (Johnny has dark hair, Carla has blonde, the boy wears overalls, the girl wears a frilly dress, etc. etc. etc.), it's like they're Obnoxiousness Incarnate! Anyway, the brats end up pestering a couple of archeologists, George and Roy, who are investigating a cave. Because that's what archeologists do. Hang around caves even with no sign of tools or even things to investigate in sight. Oh wait, there is a cave painting, conveniently located right next to the entrance.

Johnny's mother Martha and sister Alice show up. Through the magic of expository dialogue, they explain that the Nauseating Kids' father is dead (explaining why, goodness gracious, women and children are being left unattended!) and they were having a picnic when the N.Ks 'slipped away.' To start with, who would 'just happen to have a picnic' near the site of an archeological dig? (or rather, what is claimed to be one; as far as anyone can tell, George and Johnny are really your friendly neighborhood escaped killers). For another, how do all of the kids in your care just slip away without anyone noticing? Maybe Mommy and Alice were experimenting a bit too readily with the patented cocktails of the era. I don't blame them.

Then...well, if what I write makes no sense, it's because the film doesn't. Really. Everyone inexplicably decides to take a siesta, while Johnny runs back to the cave and is hit by a rock. Or a bolt of lightning. Whatever. It doesn't kill him (damn!), but it does knock him unconscious. Suddenly we're 'treated' to stock footage showing the sight of two "dinosaurs" being rolled at each other...excuse me, wrestling. Honestly, as far as I can tell, this was the director's private homage to the dada movement, because it has absolutely nothing to do with anything.

Anyway, after that stupid and meaningless interlude (and it goes on for about five minutes or maybe ten; it just felt like forever), we find that an alien being named Ro-man has invaded the planet and wiped out almost every human being using death rays. There are only a handful of survivors, mostly hiding in a burned out cellar with the help of a 'shield' of some kind. They survived the death rays thanks to George (now called 'The Professor') inventing an antibody that protects the human body from 'all possible illnesses' (!!!). OK, let's spend a moment analyzing this little plot point which even Stan Lee would call 'implausable.' How was the Professor able to give everyone the serum in time? Why, because all the survivors are among his family or assistants (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention, now Martha, Johnny, Alice, and Carla are all members of George's family, because all this is Johnny's dream...oops, sorry I gave that shocking twist away!) and, well, the Professor felt free to experiment on all of them! Plus, there's the question of why an antibiotic, even one that cures all diseases, would work against a death ray.

This is only the beginning of countless reasons why this film is truly horrific, but in the good way. There's the fact that Ro-man, under pressure from his boss, gives the survivors a one-day ultimatum to surrender or he'll hunt them down (isn't it lucky Roman's base just happens to be located some feet away from where the last remnants of the human race are hiding?). Never mind that the film seems to progress for three days until Roman finally gets sufficiently pissed (in the American sense of the word; as far as I can tell, alcohol is a gift unknown to the invaders). Roman, in his endless and rambling threats to the survivors, swears a couple of times to 'this time' use 'physical means' to kill the 'humans.' This reminded me a lot of something from "The Simpsons." Professor Frank sells Homer one of his inventions, proudly claiming that it can teleport matter. Homer replies, "Hmm, and it only transports matter?"

Oh, and then there's Roman himself, who has the body of an ape and the (visible) head of a man in a bubble helmet. Despite being a "robot" (sorry, a "robot monster!") he develops the hots for Alice, who gets tied up twice and carried around by virtually every male cast member (except Johnny) as well as loses her virginity to Roy (of course, since this is the 50s, a mock wedding ceremony overseen by the Professor is made, with Carla sagely asking, "Did they just play house?") and becomes the source of Ro-man's infatuation and angst (never mind the fact that he still goes about trying to kill off her family and the survivors of her species...speaking of which, how the hell does an alien robot lust for a human woman? Did his creators foolishly build him with hormones?) Ah, and how can I forget the lovely scene where Johnny stupidly spills the beans about the 'miraculous antibiotic' to Ro-man! (Of course, this may not be so bad, since earlier during one of their two-way television conversations (don't ask) the Professor mentioned the antibiotic right in front of Ro-man, but it seems that Ro-man, who is the most inept agent of genocide ever, didn't catch it that time). Ro-man responds by saying he'll recalibrate the death rays to surpass the antibiotic dust. Or something.

Anyway...the film rushes toward its climax as Roman finally gets off his hairy arse and starts kacking the humans one by one with his bare hands. Amazingly for a film of its time (or even ours), he manages to strangle Carla (of course, we don't actually see it…). Don't give our bubble-headed monkey man too much credit because it wasn't too much of a feat, since Carla stands around and talks to him. I guess her father should have been more careful in teaching her not to chat with relentless homicidal robots trying to wipe out their species. As the film's actors display their dramatic ranges mourning Carla, Johnny and Carla's relationship is given a disturbing new dimension when the boy cries out, "I wish I'd have played house more often when she wanted to!" I guess even the Cleavers weren't safe from Caligula-esque antics.

Roy buys the farm too, leaving Alice at the mercy of Ro-man (as well as leaving Johnny and Martha the responsibility of repopulating the planet). Ro-man refuses to kill Alice, causing his boss to take matters into his own hands and kill everyone himself using the death rays, including Ro-man (how he does this, despite the 'miraculous antibiotic' and the fact that he's out in Limbo somewhere, is beyond me and the scriptwriters). There's that same stock footage with the dinosaurs again and then, finally, Johnny awakes from his nap to find Alice, Roy, George, and Martha who collect him and walk off into the horizon together. The end...or is it?!?!

Like the works of Ed Wood, beneath all the sheer B-ness there's a passionate attempt to make a "message." The clunky dialogue and goofy monologues that highlight the film really try to convey the despair of the few survivors of the human race and the emotional turmoil of Ro-man. Instead, though, we have proof that great b-movies are not made, they are born.