Plan 9 From Outer Space
This must be the smelliest science fiction movie through which I've ever had the audacity to sit, but it does give some pretty important background for The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra and its ilk. Plan 9 falls victim to every trap of science fiction since the genre's inception. The rampant sexism, ill-conceived morality, and truly ripe acting catch the audience in a headlock and start knuckling the defenseless members WAY before the crappy fifties "special" (think "short bus") effects get through. By this time, the audience has either drunk the kool-aid and wants to be the first on the block to throw a Plan 9 costume party, or has swallowed his own eyeballs in an act of self-preservation. This film garnered a whole sixty-three percent on the Tomatometer from pure stink alone.
This film doesn't need Tom Servo or Crow for a serious mock. Not since New Moon has a film been such a rat in a barrel, while ushers hand out the .22s. Honestly, if you like campy cult classics, this must be seen, but please, unless you're a long-time addict, have a shot of Stardust handy in case of an overdose.
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