Return of the Fly (1959)

Our sequel today picks up fifteen years after the events of its originator at the graveside service of Helene Delambre, who never really recovered after assisting her husband Andre’s suicide.

You remember, right? When the mad scientist placed his head and hand into a hydraulic press after his experiments in matter teleportation went staggeringly awry, where his atoms were mixed with a fly, turning Andre into a fly-headed, fly-handed monster? Right? Right. If not, go watch The Fly (1958) and then come back. Go on. We can wait -- just remember where you left off.

For the record, only Helene, the deceased's brother, Francois (Price), and Chief Inspector Charas knew the real truth, about the mutation, with Charas being responsible for the murder of the other half of this failed experiment, trapped in a spider’s web, crushing the pitiful, pleading creature with a rock before a spider pounced.

But now, their orphaned son, Philippe (Halsey), demands to know the truth as to what really happened to his father, which haunted his mother so badly all these years that it eventually drove the woman to an early grave. And once his uncle finally spills the beans, Philippe is soon determined to perfect his father’s teleportation machine and secure his family's legacy.

At first, Francois wants no part of this but soon comes around -- mostly to make sure Philippe doesn’t make the same critical mistakes his father had.

Moving all the machinery to the basement of the old ancestral mansion, using his father’s notes, Philippe, Francois, and Philipe’s assistant, Ronald Holmes (Frankham), soon have the transporter rebuilt and fired-up and successfully disintegrate and reintegrate several varmints.

Too bad for all involved that Holmes is acting under an alias, is a wanted man for murder, and is currently engaging in some industrial espionage. And after his assistant uses the contraption to destroy the body of one of Scotland Yard’s finest, Philippe sniffs out his true intentions before the villain can cash-out.

Unfortunately for Philippe, this confrontation does not go his way at all and he winds up in the transporter, too.

Also, Holmes tosses a fly in there with him because, one, his former boss suffers from a severe case of pteronarcophobia; and two, he’s seen what the transporter can do when two different test-subjects get zapped at the same time (-- that aforementioned cop and a hamster); and three, he’s just that big of an asshole.

Alas, Francois arrives too late to stop any of this and winds up taking a bullet while Holmes escapes; but he does manage to trip the switches for the reintegration process, and then Francois comes face to face with his worst nightmare come true... 

After squandering a shit-ton of money converting their projection booths to accommodate 3D stereoscopic films, a fad that had barely lasted six months, most theater owners were either skeptical or downright hostile when Darryl F. Zanuck asked them to now tear all of that out and widen their screens instead for his newly minted CinemaScope process in late 1953.

However, having learned a harsh lesson over the non-standardization of the 3D free-for-all, Zanuck promised more consistency to appease exhibitors, promising a steady supply of product in this new widescreen format.

The Grand Island Independent (December 31, 1953). 

To do this, Zanuck and 20th Century Fox struck a deal to make the lenses and equipment for CinemaScope readily available to other studios; and Fox even went so far as to bring in Robert L. Lippert to produce a series of B-Pictures shot in the same widescreen process.

And so, together, they formed Regal Pictures in 1956, which landed Lippert a seven year commission to make 20-pictures per year, each shot in seven to ten days, with a budget of $100,000. Though one should note that Zanuck hedged the deal, not allowing his new B-Unit to smirch the reputation of his A-product, which is why things like Stagecoach to Fury (1956), Kronos (1957), and Hell on Devil’s Island (1957) were all technically shot in 'Regalscope.'

The Grand Island Independent (July 18, 1957). 

Fox and Zanuck never were ones for genre pictures and seldom dabbled in horror and sci-fi -- the only real monster movie I can think of was The Undying Monster (1942), which was pretty great if you've never seen it, which makes their production of The Fly a bit of an anomaly; especially after the big-budgeted sci-fi epics This Island Earth (1955) and Forbidden Planet (1956) both disappointed at the box-office for rival studios Universal and MGM respectively.

But even though The Fly was shot in CinemaScope and Technicolor, the production cost was kept fairly low, around $350,000, when compared to $800,000 for This Island Earth and $1,900,000 for Forbidden Planet. But unlike those other two films, The Fly proved to be a huge hit for Fox and became one of its biggest money-makers of '58. And technically, it wasn’t really a Fox product at all -- at least not at first.

“The Fly was an in-house project,” said Bernard Glasser in an interview with Tom Weaver (Science Fiction Stars and Horror Heroes, 1991). Glasser was one of Lippert’s stable of producers, who revealed, “Regal purchased the short story by George Langelaan that appeared in Playboy Magazine. Lippert felt that he had something special with this project, and he requested additional funds to produce the picture.”

And so, The Fly would essentially get an upgrade and nearly all traces of its Regal origins were systematically removed. Said Glasser, “If Lippert relinquished producer credit, it must have been for a good reason; I’m sure that he could’ve had producer credit if he felt it was important.”

And perhaps slightly embarrassed by its subject matter despite the box-office success, but not embarrassed enough to not cash-in, when a sequel proved to be in order, the studio quickly distanced itself and turned the franchise back over to Lippert.

By 1959, Lippert had dumped the Regal moniker and rechristened his unit as Associated Producers Incorporated (API). And to pull off this mandated sequel, Return of the Fly (1959), he turned to Glasser and director Edward Bernds -- the two men who had produced Space Master X-7 (1958) for him, which had served as the equally successful bottom-bill for The Fly.

“The Fly was the sleeper hit everyone had hoped it would be,” said Glasser. “It was Harry Spalding’s idea to make a sequel. (Spalding was Lippert’s production supervisor.) He suggested that Ed and I be given the project.”

“Why we got Return of the Fly I don’t know,” Bernds explained to Weaver (Interviews with B Science Fiction and Horror Moviemakers, 1988). “Maybe Fox thought it was going to be a slough-off, just something to cash-in on the popularity of the first one. But I also think it was kind of a bad time for Fox and they thought they could capitalize on us, at a reasonable cost, and get a reasonable product.”

I delved into the cinematic history of Glasser and Bernds when I wrote up Space Master X-7 a while back, so feel free to check that out to get up to speed on them. But as they set to work on the sequel, it turns out the parent studio wasn’t quite ready to let go of the project after all -- at least not completely.

“Return of the Fly was supposed to be just another Regal project,” said Glasser (Weaver, 1991). “Perhaps it was the quality of Ed’s script or revised thinking on Lippert’s part that upgraded the project".

To start, the production was under orders to use the still standing sets from the first film to help save even more costs, meaning it would be another rare feat for Lippert’s B-unit, where it would be allowed to actually shoot on Fox’s backlot, which had been strictly forbidden.

Said Bernds (Weaver, 1988), “We who worked for Lippert were kind of second class citizens as far as Fox was concerned -- pariahs, so to speak. Fox didn’t want us on the deluxe Westwood lot, but when the time came to do Return of the Fly they wanted us there.

The San Francisco Chronicle (August 3, 1959). 

“I believe this was a tough period for Fox and they wanted us to absorb some of their overhead," Bernds continued. "Return of the Fly was made at the Fox Westwood lot, with Fox personnel all the way through, even a cameraman. Fox just simply couldn’t do things in any way except top-notch, and so our sets for Return of the Fly were as good as an A picture’s would be.”

Thus, the sequel would be shot officially in CinemaScope but would be demoted to black and white film stock -- just like its co-feature, Roy Del Ruth's The Alligator People (1959), whose title pretty much says it all. 

The Los Angeles Times (August 26, 1959). 

Added Glasser (Weaver, 1991), “Most of our money was being spent unproductively … The production department of the Fox studio asked Lippert to move Return of the Fly to the studio instead of our shooting it at an independent lot. Of course this means an increase in production costs and no control. Because of the inefficiency of the slower Fox crews and the added charges and surcharges for set operation and construction, it was impossible for me to lock in any expenditures. I had been reluctant to make the move to Fox and had predicted problems. But Lippert didn’t want to antagonize the Fox big brass. But shooting on the Fox lot greatly enhanced the production values of the picture.”

Still, despite the upgrade, Bernds felt the shoot was plagued with bad vibes. “It seems to me that the 20th Century lot was a rather dismal place when we shot Return of the Fly there. Not much (other) production, and many of the crew worried about their jobs.”

Meanwhile, as Bernds hammered out the script, it would prove interesting enough to coax Vincent Price back into the fold to reprise his role as Francois. “He wouldn’t sign to do the film until he read the script,” said Bernds (Weaver, 1988). “So, as soon as I had a first draft I sent it to him. Then, after he’d read it, I visited him in his palatial home -- that’s a fancy word, but believe me, his place was palatial -- and he said he liked the script. We discussed it at considerable length, he said he’d sign and he did.”

“We were surprised when Lippert approved Price and his salary,” said Glasser (Weaver, 1991). “Perhaps Price had been a good luck omen for Lippert. It began with Price appearing in Lippert’s The Baron of Arizona (1950). Or perhaps Lippert was playing on a hunch. At any rate he approved the additional expenditure for Price, $25,000. (The total budget was estimated around $275,000.) Price was always a gentleman, always ready and prepared, but as I recall he was not overly enthusiastic about the screenplay!”

Yeah, unfortunately, most of those “interesting” moments Price signed-up for wound up cut-out completely, much to the star’s chagrin.

Said Bernds (Weaver, 1988), “What Vincent read was a first draft, and like many first drafts it was a little overlong, and some cuts were made to trim it down and some changes made to bring about budget economies. Vincent liked some of the scenes we had cut, and he objected.

“If I recall correctly, they were mostly scenes with Danielle De Metz -- scenes of warmth and charm, but, when you’re pressed for footage, not truly essential to the progression of the story. But I conferred with Vincent from time to time, and I made changes that satisfied him.”

Thus, despite these changes, Bernds found Price a delight to work with, calling him “thoroughly professional, always prepared, giving his best to every scene. His wasn’t even the biggest part in Return of the Fly, but his star status and the strength he brought to his performance lifted it out of the B-category it might have fallen into."

As for the main protagonist, Glasser cast Brett Halsey. Now, Halsey seemed to be cursed with bad timing throughout his Hollywood career. He got signed at Universal but barely made a scratch -- though some folks might recognize him as one of the two teens who get killed in Revenge of the Creature (1955), the one who wasn't fastballed into a tree -- before the studio was bought out by MCA, which cut staff and purged all contract players in 1958.

But the actor landed on his feet at American International, where Halsey headlined the likes of High School Hellcats (1958), also directed by Bernds, and Submarine Seahawk (1959). And then, after starring in Return of the Fly, he got signed by Fox to a multi-year contract. But then this was voided, too, after the whole Cleopatra (1963) debacle, which nearly bankrupted the studio.

Halsey would have much better luck abroad, working with the likes of Mario Bava and Lucio Fulci in Italy. And while Halsey does fine as Philippe, he really isn’t in the film all that much. I swear, his pasted-on head on the tiny fly almost had as much screen-time as the real actor did.

“The whole cast was good to work with -- Halsey was excellent, as always,” recalled Bernds (Weaver, 1988). “David Franklin, who played the villain, was new to me … I wanted the contrast between the charming and pleasant Alan and the killer Alan to be a startling one, and David was everything I’d hoped for when I wrote his scenes. De Metz was very young, very pretty; practically no experience, but her youth and beauty were a plus. Maybe the fact that she wasn’t an experienced actor made her performance seem more innocent and more real.”

The only disappointment Bernds had with the cast was a failure to sign on Herbert Marshall to return as Inspector Charas. “I must have written with Marshall in mind because the role in my script is referred to as Charas throughout -- but in the movie the character played by John Sutton was named Inspector Beachum. I’m not sure why we didn’t get Marshall, but he would’ve added stature to the part, and another link to the first Fly would have been a definite plus.”

The last notable cast member was Ed Wolff, a former circus giant, who had portrayed Bela Lugosi's robot in The Phantom Creeps (1939), a Martian in Invaders from Mars (1953), and the rampaging cyborg in The Colossus of New York (1958). Wolff took over the role of Philippe after his transformation into a human-fly hybrid. Then, as the creature breaks out of the lab, is merrily chased around the hills by the cops for a spell, it then spends the rest of the movie tracking down and killing those who double-crossed him.

Ed Wolff (right), The Colossus of New York. 

All the while, Francois, the Inspector (Sutton), and Phillipe's long-suffering girlfriend, Cecilia (De Metz), manage to capture the Fly Human and hope the Human Fly can be herded back to the lab and into the transmitter where they think they can, hopefully, reverse the process.

“I believe that what the science fiction writer needs most is a sense of story and enough science to make it work,” said Bernds (Weaver, 1988). But the writer / director also freely admitted that most of his films in the genre were “utterly unscientific and that ridiculous was probably not too strong a word” to describe them, and how “science really takes a beating in his pictures.” But they still entertained people and made money.

Glasser and Bernds had wanted to insert footage from The Fly to pad out the sequel and fill-in the backstory; but Fox nixed this, feeling the color footage wouldn’t mesh with the rest of the film properly. This left it to Price to get us all up to speed with a massive plot-dump at the beginning of the film.

Now, I had never seen this sequel before writing it up, but judging from all the photos and stills I had seen over the years I felt the monster design and mask for Return of the Fly looked so much better than the original. And while I still think it looks better in theory, in action -- oh, great googly-moogly.

It's so huge the poor stuntman ensconced inside it can barely keep his balance as he runs around. I mean, watch as Wolff keeps reaching for it, to steady it, as the encephalitic contraption constantly wobbles and teeters around and threatens to topple him. (Ironically enough, my problem with the original was I thought it was too small?!)

“[Wolff] just couldn’t stand on his feet for long periods of time,” said Glasser (Weaver, 1991). “And he had great difficulty breathing while wearing the fly head. Our friend Joe Becker, a stuntman, did most of the closeups wearing the fly’s head. Joe did all the action sequences for Wolff.”

Apparently, due to his condition, Wolff had little stamina, which hampered efforts to give the plodding chase scenes any real juice. The inflatable proboscis of the Human Fly was a nice touch, and they really could've had something there if the size of the whole apparatus was, I don't know, halved? 

Also sad to report that the fly with the human head FX might be even worse than the original.

However, I freely admit when the bad guy, played beautifully by Frankham, sends the cop through the transmitter, turning him into a were-hamster, who then steps on the hamster with the human hands? Thaaaaat kinda freaked me out a bit as the thing stubbornly refused to die.

Beyond that, Return of the Fly is a bit too ‘paint by numbers’ to really generate any real amperage. Not all that terrible, but no more than serviceable as far as sequels go.

Originally posted on July 9, 2016, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Return of the Fly (1959) Associated Producers (API) :: 20th Century Fox Film Corporation / P: Bernard Glasser / D: Edward Bernds / W: Edward Bernds, George Langelaan (story) / C: Brydon Baker / E: Richard C. Meyer / M: Paul Sawtell, Bert Shefter / S: Vincent Price, Brett Halsey, David Frankham, Danielle De Metz, John Sutton

UFO: Target Earth (1974)

With hard-hitting investigative reporter Tom Lewis our prologue does begin, who, along with his impressive porn ‘stache, is currently interviewing a series of eyewitnesses who claimed to have had a recent close encounter with a UFO in the rural areas around Athens, Georgia.

Here, as part of his news feature, Lewis (Harper) receives vox populi testimonials from a college professor, a senior citizen, a young couple -- who actually claim to have been abducted by some telepathic aliens and examined before being safely returned relatively unharmed, and a couple of ranchers; the last two claiming the flying saucer they saw caused a light plane to crash on their property, which only received a cursory investigation for reasons unknown -- as if the government already knew what had happened to the doomed pilot and plane and closed the case.

All the while, Lewis’ footage of “I don’t know what I seen but I saw it” reinforces a lot of familiar flying saucer scenarios: bright lights, swamp gas, weather balloons, lost time, equipment failure, EMP flashes, animal mutilations, abductions by benevolent and technologically superior beings, and a military conspiracy to cover it all up. 

These are then reinforced further with a series of classic black and white snapshots of alleged UFO sightings over the years during the myopic opening credits. And not to spoil too much, but these are the only UFOs we will be seeing for the duration of the movie.

Thus, once the slideshow credits wrap-up, the anal-probe is suddenly yanked out from under us all as the film proper will implore the audience to essentially forget all that nonsense about flying hubcaps and little green men because it all couldn’t be any further from the truth, as far as extraterrestrials are concerned. And, boy howdy, do we have the guy who can get us to the real truth! Well, sort of. But not really.

Now, this man in question is Allen Grimes, a post-grad teaching fellow in electronic engineering at the University of Fauxsville, Florida. And on the afternoon of March 26, 1974, when Grimes (Plakias) attempted to telephone a colleague for some “academic business,” this call would forever change his life!

See, he winds up on some ersatz party-line thanks to some static interference of unknown origin. And what he hears is an unsecured conversation between a Colonel Crabby-Ass and a Major McJerkface, who discuss a rash of UFO radar intercepts around the Buford Power Plant near the town reservoir. And as a slack-jawed Grimes silently listens and takes notes, they continue on about a sudden interruption of the local power grid and a course of action to investigate whatever the hell is going on up there.

Alas, we do not get to see a sortie of jet-fighters buzzing the area and engage with any UFOs because that would be both engaging and exciting. Nope. Instead, we stick with Grimes, who, while processing what he’s just heard, flashes back to his childhood, where a much younger version of himself awakens from a nightmare; a nightmare about a bright light, like a star, that was burning him.

But his consoling mother says not to worry because that was just his ‘Morning Star’ coming to wake him, and how everybody has a Morning Star that guides them. And as we puzzle over just what in the ever-lovin’ hell THAT was all about, we cut back to Grimes in his office, who finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor long enough to make another phone call to a girl named Vivian, whom he must see in person immediately.

Now, this Vivian (Cline) is a little on the freaky-deaky side as she’s developed an acute sensitivity to strange alien phenomena, or so she claims, and carries the social stigma that comes with this belief. Thus and so, she’s dubious of Grimes’ motives for speaking with her as he records their conversation, meaning her responses are rather clipped and guarded when he puts the question to her: Can she really ‘feel’ extraterrestrial beings around us?

Apparently she can, as Vivian confirms she does have ESP, but not in the way he thinks, which is too ‘dimensional.’ What she feels is a type of alien energy or presence, and if she could just tap into the proper wavelength Vivian is almost certain she could communicate with the source.

This news really excites Grimes, who would like to explore the possibilities of this talent further with Vivian after he consults a few more experts.

And after talking with a rather affable astronomy professor about the probability of alien life visiting our planet (-- which we will expound upon later), Grimes meets up with Vivian again at a local watering hole.

Here, the woman expands on a strange feeling she had when they first met; a strange, oppressive malediction that is definitely emanating from him. And when she takes his hand to try and tune into it better, she is overcome by some kind of psychic feedback, gasping about energy and bright stars. And this feedback loop is so great it ripples into their surroundings as the lights flicker and the jukebox drops several RPMs until Vivian breaks contact.

Later, Grimes consults with his old physics professor, Dr. Mansfield (Light), about the strange encounter he just had with Vivian. Seems in less than one hour after her physical contact, there were enough UFO sightings in the area to make the national news. And do we get to see any of these? Again, that would be both exciting and engaging; so, no, we do not.

And while Grimes had hoped Manfield would be just as excited about this psychic whammy as he was, and help him spitball on his rapidly developing theory of what’s really going on at the reservoir, the elder Mansfield, instead, preaches caution. But Grimes will not hear it, and in his zealousness the man does not realize he is now the target of something not of this Earth. And his life kinda depends on whether this ‘something’ is benevolent or hostile…

American physicist Enrico Fermi was instrumental in the successful development of the Manhattan Project during World War II. It was Fermi who was credited with creating the world’s first working atomic pile, making him the father of the Nuclear Age and one of the key architects of the first atomic bomb.

Fermi was rare in that he excelled in both applied and theoretical physics, earning himself a Nobel Prize for his work in induced radioactivity as well as significant contributions to the development of quantum theory, nuclear and particle physics, and statistical mechanics.

Enrico Fermi.

Fermi was still working in Los Alamos at the National Laboratory in 1950, where one day, while walking to the commissary for lunch with several colleagues, he joined in on a spirited conversation with the others about the recent deluge of UFO reports that had been accelerating ever since Kenneth Arnold’s first sightings of several flying saucers back in 1947.

But when the conversation turned to other subjects as the meal commenced, Fermi suddenly stopped suddenly and exclaimed, “Where is everybody?!”

Illustration by Walter Molino (alias Reggio Emilia).

Edward Teller, a friend, colleague, and witness to this eureka moment, recalled for Stephen Webb (2002), "The result of his question was general laughter because of the strange fact that in spite of Fermi's question coming from the clear blue, everybody around the table seemed to understand at once he was talking about extraterrestrial life."

Another colleague, Herbert York, added how Fermi would not let this go and how he followed up on this observation “with a series of calculations on the probability of Earth-like planets, the probability of life given an Earth, the probability of humans given life, the likely rise and duration of high technology, and so on. He concluded on the basis of such calculations that we ought to have been visited long ago and many times over.”

This contradiction between a lack of solid evidence of alien contact to prove they’ve actually been here and the high-probability estimates for the existence of other civilizations out there, somewhere, formed the basis of what was to become The Fermi Paradox. To illustrate, put on your thinking caps and try to wrap your heads around this:

There are billions of stars in our galaxy alone that are similar to the sun, and many of these stars are millions of years older than the one in our solar system. And with those numbers, there’s a high probability some of these star systems have spawned Earth-like planets; and if our Earth is typical, others, too, may have developed intelligent life. And with that big of a head start, surely one of them had developed some form of interstellar travel by now?

So, the question remains. Where is everybody?

To answer that, first, let's presume every sighting ever recorded of a UFO on Earth really was just a weather balloon, swamp gas, or a hoax. Next, to address the reason why no super-advanced alien civilization has ever made contact with Earth is, in theory, something called The Great Filter, which basically states at some point all life hits some kind of a wall or dead end, where things stall or get derailed; be it evolutionary, environmental, social breakdown, or advancements in technology get out of hand (-- think nuclear or robot holocaust --) before they reach an intelligence level where, say, the difference between magic and science is almost nonexistent as author Arthur C. Clarke once theorized.

And if you want to stay up all night pondering imponderables, read up on whether we on Earth have already survived this Great Filter or have yet to plow into it. Have we stalled out? Is technology getting out of hand? Will a gamma burst from space fry us all? My money is on we’ll destroy ourselves through hubris by letting the Earth become uninhabitable due to greenhouse gases and climate change. And if not that, we’ll blow it all up over something stupid and petty -- most likely differences in dogma.

Are we doomed then? Is Soylent Green our future, or, by some miracle, will we achieve something akin to Star Trek? Pardon me if I don’t hold my breath. Then again, this is just one of many theories or possibilities.

And another one of those possibilities is our current technology is too primitive or we’re simply listening for the wrong things. As Carl Sagan once pointed out; it could be that our minds work exponentially faster or slower than another form of intelligence out there. Maybe it takes our galactic neighbors 12 years to say “Hello,” and when we hear this message it sounds like nothing more than garbled white noise. Do you speak bacteria? I sure don’t.

So, maybe, as we reach out with more powerful instruments we might just finally pick up on something. (I know there’s been efforts to go over old Seti data and widen the parameters when crunching it on the computers to translate what we’ve picked up over the years.)

Also, it’s a mighty big universe in a “You Are Here” sense, and there’s a chance, however slim, they just haven’t found us yet, which might not necessarily be a bad thing if you buy in to the Alpha Predator theory, where the most advanced civilizations out there are systematically wiping out all other forms of intelligent life.

And lastly, maybe, just maybe, they have been here all along, which fits the Cosmic Zoo option, which believes the aliens are here essentially on safari as observers, trophy hunters, or catch and release zoologists.

Personally, if they have visited, I like to think they’re just rubbernecking. It’s always been my pet theory with Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) that it was the little juvenile potbelly aliens who’ve been buzzing the Earth all these years, stealing stuff and taking unwitting folks on a cosmic joyride, until they got caught by the elder ganguly aliens, who make them give it all back, apologize, and promise to never do it again in a musical extravaganza, light show, and obscene hand gesture exchange on the Dark Side of the Moon at Devil’s Tower. 

When interviewed by Edwin Howard for The Memphis Press-Scimitar (July 3, 1974), Michael DeGaetano, the writer, producer and director of UFO: Target Earth (1974), explained why he decided to make a film about UFOs and extraterrestrials. 

The Arizona Daily Star (November 11, 1974). 

“Well, on my 34th birthday I said to myself: You’ve got one year before you’re 35 and you haven’t made your first movie yet,” explained DeGaetano. Having worked in motion picture distribution and promotion for nearly ten years in his native Atlanta, Georgia, apparently, a younger version of the newbie filmmaker gave himself an ultimatum that he would have a film produced by the time he turned 35. (Perhaps he should’ve waited until he was 45? Too easy? Yeah, probably.) 

“So I closed up my marketing business, took over a firm called Centrum, a design firm, which I renamed Centrum International Film Corp., and set about raising money for my first film.” Using his connections in the industry, DeGaetano pre-sold the film to several territories and raised enough money to shoot his film, which began life as something completely different.  

Illustration by Walter Molino (alias Reggio Emilia). 

“I had another film in mind. Some time before, I had noticed a telephone booth in a cemetery, which struck me as really strange and a fascinating image and idea for a horror movie. My original idea was to film this and call it The Telephone.  

“But finally, when I sat down with my production team to get down to specifics, the Pascagoula incident involving the UFO had just happened. I was fascinated by it, and I said, I’m going to make a movie about flying saucers.” 

The Mississippi Press (October 19, 1973). 

Now, the Pascagoula incident DeGaetano mentioned was not in reference to a squirrel going berserk in a Mississippi Baptist church. No, he was referring to an alleged incident that happened on October 11, 1973, somewhere along the Pascagoula River, when two fishermen, Charles Hickson and Calvin Parker Jr., claimed to have been abducted by a trio of tall, pincer-handed aliens, taken aboard their ship, and experimented on.

“They all told me I was crazy," said DeGaetano. "I know, but won’t it be fun? So that’s how UFO: Target Earth came to be made. And it was fun.” Pretty sure he and I have different definition of the word "fun."

The Mississippi Press (October 15, 1973).

And while UFO: Target Earth is no Close Encounters -- not even remotely close enough to even have an encounter, and I shudder to even mention them in the same sentence -- DeGaetano’s magdumb opus does address the Fermi Paradox, albeit indirectly, when Grimes sits in on a lecture conducted by Fauxville’s chief astronomer, Dr. Whitman (Erickson).

Here, Whitman goes on and on about the arrival of comets being harbingers of great cataclysms over the centuries. What he’s selling probably isn’t true, but it's kind of interesting in a some forgotten tome of Time Life’s Mysteries of the Unknown sense.

The Memphis Press-Scimitar (July 3, 1974). 

After the lecture, Grimes consults with Whitman on the odds of extraterrestrial life existing elsewhere and the possibility of them ever visiting the Earth. The older man puts the odds of alien life at three to five-percent (-- meaning at least three out of every hundred stars could produce sustainable life somewhere, so that isn’t quite as minuscule as it sounds), and then expounds further on how while it is possible for them to visit it’s highly improbable they would have the means to ever find us let alone get here.

It’s a fun little scene that doesn’t completely reek of bullshit like everything else presented thus far, and it really sticks out amongst the existential dreck to come as DeGaetano, through Grimes, commits to his own pet theories on non corporeal alien life.

And this ongoing thesis begins with Grimes and Vivian hitting the road to interview eyewitnesses and collect data to be crunched and collated back in Mansfield’s computer lab. This includes a talk with Colonel Crab-Ass, who is obviously rattled when Grimes reveals he listened in on his earlier conversation, but will neither confirm or deny anything except to stay away from the Power Plant, which is currently on military lockdown for … reasons he’d rather not discuss.

Still, rumors persist of structural damage around the plant, as if touched by some concentrated heat-source that left blisters in the metal, which our protagonists only recount because telling is always a helluva lot cheaper than actually showing your audience something.

Well, to be fair, we do get to see something. That something being the boom mic for a laughably extended period in the next interview with an elderly woman, who describes something flying over the reservoir, something so big it eclipsed the sun before plunging out of sight. Something shaped like a disc that turned into a bright light as it fell.

Once the interview wraps up, Grimes can barely contain his excitement about this documented sighting of an “energy source with a flight pattern.”

Next, he checks in with Mansfield, who says all the data she’s received and put into the computer with her assistant, Dan Rivers (Arcuragi), confirms there has to be some massive energy source located at the bottom of the reservoir. What that data was exactly I do not know because they never bothered to tell us. And, hell, even talking about data entry at this point would be considered an action scene in this damnable movie.

Anyhoo, to follow up on these findings, Mansfield direly instructs Grimes to place some fancy sensors that will detect … something on the opposite side of the lake and as far away from their camp as possible. Meanwhile, Vivian is starting to act even more strange as she gets closer to the water, who then accuses Grimes of trying to buy her soul with his technology.

After assuring her this was never his intention, Grimes loads up the sensor on a boat and the director fills out a reel by following our hero as he putters all, the, way, a, cross, the, water, and, reaches, the, opposite, shore, where he sets to work. (ACTION!)

Back at the camp, Vivian anxiously awaits his return, clutching the walkie-talkie Grimes left with her, which suddenly crackles to life and a strange ethereal voice starts calling out her name. And as this call from beyond persistently repeats, Vivian freaks out and flees into the surrounding woods.

She’s still missing when Mansfield and Rivers show up with more equipment, which they leave behind to go and look for the girl. And when they do finally find her -- stress on the ‘finally’ -- Vivian appears possessed by another presence, who warns them all to get away from this place with all the urgency of unwrapping a stick of gum before snapping out of her fugue state.

Vivian has no recollection of what she just said as they sit around the campfire later that night, where Mansfield also takes a massive plot dump, explaining there’s most likely some kind of alien ship at the bottom of the lake. And what the old lady witnessed all those decades ago was this ship losing power for some reason, causing it to crash and submerge into the water, where it has sat for all these years, occasionally sending out scout ships to secure power for life support; and what Vivian is most likely sensing is some kind of psychic S.O.S. from the occupants as they await a rescue.

Grimes, of course, doesn’t buy this at all because it doesn’t fit his pet theory, which leads to a lengthy philosophical debate with Mansfield over what is possible, emotions vs. reason, which is making my eyes retroactively glaze over again as I type this sentence. It’s pure nonsense passing for something deeply profound. And it only gets worse from there, Fellow Programs, as we take a time-out to finally address Vivian’s backstory just as Dr. Mansfield becomes dizzy and swoons.

As Vivian tends to her, Grimes is called over to the van where Rivers is monitoring the readouts of all the sensors he planted, which are currently going bonkers, and the magic Etch ‘o’ Sketch is detecting a high energy spike coming from -- ah, you guessed it -- under the lake. Vivian then cryptically senses “they’re here” and begs Grimes to take her with him. Meanwhile, a confused Grimes becomes mesmerized by a certain monitor displaying something akin to a Windows screensaver circa 1992.

What follows next is a big old heapin’ helpin’ of metaphysical bullshit shoveled right in your face as a voice through the monitor calls out to Grimes, which says he was the one they’ve been waiting over 1,000 years for. And, I quote, “We are beyond the jaws of darkness, where the light springs from the consciousness of your mind and bends upon itself to become the truth.”

Apparently, these aliens are some kind of sentient energy, who did crash-land on Earth, and who’ve been trying to contact Earthlings for centuries only we weren’t ready yet and couldn’t understand them; and so, our fearful brains manifested this contact with delusions of flying saucers and bug-eyed Martians, leaving them stuck here. Well, at least until Grimes came along.

Vivian sort of sensed this, too, and I think that childhood trauma flashback was to show the alien’s first attempt to contact him but Grimes was too young to understand at the time. But now, he is the chosen one, who must “choose between two time spans: yours or theirs." 

"Give us the power to return, and your time will be destroyed. Nothing will be left. You will die. Only a memory in the mind of your friends will remain. If you refuse, all will end within your lifetime anyway. Your planet will crumble. Already your mind purifies itself of the memory, transforming the imagination into our needed energy."

What follows next is a K-Mart knock-off version of the climax of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), where Grimes, his body rapidly ageing as his -- what, essence?. Yeah, sure, his ‘essence’ becomes one with the aliens, pulls himself away from the psychedelic monitor, and stumbles off toward the lake.

We don’t follow him, though. Nope. We get to keep staring at that screensaver for about an hour as the soundtrack digs into a deeper groove. And when we finally cut to the lake, Rivers tries but fails to stop the now elderly Grimes from going for a swim. 

And when the other man plunges in after him, what he pulls to shore are the mere skeletal remains of Grimes, whose essence has been converted, giving the aliens the power boost they needed to finally get the hell off Earth and head back into the cosmos.

And then the movie leaves us with a quote from the Book of Revelations, Chapter Five, Verse Nine, which tries to tie all of this nonsense in with the Rapture, causing the audience to reflectively punch this movie right in its smug metaphysical face as it finally, finally, comes to an end.

As the old axiom goes, a drowning man will surface three times before taking a permanent dip. I kinda apply the same logic to watching films in that if they put me to sleep more than once, it won’t be getting a third chance at being a non-narcotic sleep inducer because, you never know, it might prove fatal. Or worse: addictive.

I had honestly forgotten what a load of pretentious twaddle UFO: Target Earth was as my first attempt at a re-watch ended in a nice nap about 20 minutes in. The second time I made it over an hour before the Sandman came calling. And here, I broke my rule and took the plunge for a third time because, well, with a deadline looming, it was too late to back out now.

Needless to say, I finally made it to the end. And once this turgid turd-mountain had been conquered, I can honestly say it’s not all that terrible on a technical level. It’s competently shot, as even the extended boom mic cameo can be blamed on improper matting in the full frame home video release. It has a decent electronic score, and the local actors do a commendable job of getting their portentous dialogue out in a timely manner.

As a surprise to everyone, UFO: Target Earth managed a rather extensive theatrical release through Centron International -- I'm thinking mostly so this investors could get at least some of their money back, where it was usually paired up with Richard Winer’s The Devil’s Triangle (1971). 

The Democrat and Chronicle (October 9, 1974). 

Reviews were both scarce and dismissive. “It’s the screenplay of UFO: Target Earth and the direction that must take the major blame for its faults,” said Joseph Seiler of The Daily Journal (October 11, 1974). “It’s basically humorless. It tries to be serious: No dripping monsters, laser ray guns or purple, three-eyed space visitors in search of a new home. There is no physical evidence of the visitors except for a few wavy lines on a TV set.  

“The film then is mostly talk: discussions of the physical and metaphysical implications of intelligent life from another planet. The talking, unfortunately, does not sustain the film. Their philosophical pondering is at best lightweight, and at times sinks from the sublime to the absurd. Makers of science fiction films should credit their audiences with a little more sophistication."

Newsday (September 11, 1974). 

Doc Halliday of The Cedar Rapids Gazette (September 12, 1974) agreed and pulled no punches. "Watching UFO: Target Earth is sort of like watching a high school production of Hamlet. It is not of much interest unless one is closely related to someone in the cast.

"In fact, it looks very much like the semester project of a college cinema class: Every one in the cast resembles a college student or a professor. The dialogue sounds more profound than it really is. The camera effects are used for their own sake rather than for the total effect of the film ... The film wanders far and wide, ultimately coming to its final unraveling. When the dialogue is not ponderous with pseudo-philosophy, it is woefully trite. All in all, the film has little to recommend it."

The Fort Worth Star-Telegram (June 7, 1974). 

"A saturation campaign  can sometimes help a good picture," remarked Chuck Mittlestadt of The Albuquerque Journal (May 30, 1974). But, "It cannot salvage a bad movie. Instead, all it does is irritate the regular customers. UFO: Target Earth is a waste of good film, It is too talky, lacks action, and missing the mark as symbolism. Too bad, too, with a title as intriguing as this one." 

But Perry Stewart's review for The Fort Worth Star-Telegram (June 7, 1974) was practically glowing: "The man who made UFO: Target Earth called the film a 'poor man's 2001. Michael DeGaetano, a publicist-turned-producer, was right enough in his statement. The film borrows some basics from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and there's no doubt that UFO is a poor boy effort." 

The Daily Journal (October 11, 1974). 

And yet, "His maiden feature is a serious attempt to fuse the reality and mythology of the flying saucer syndrome. The trouble is, audiences who attend the film with a title like that usually want something less subtle, more tangible, like green monsters from outer space. It will draw the horror monster crowd, and perhaps a few dedicated freaks will groove on the nifty process photography." Thus, Stewart felt "there's evidence that we'll be seeing better, costlier things from DeGaetano."  

Beyond that, all I could really dig up was a fantastic piece of ballyhoo out of Tulsa, Oklahoma, involving our film and a radio promotion:

The Tulsa World (June 21, 1974).

"Its not a great film," DeGeatano admitted to Howard (July, 1974). "How could it be? We shot it in just 13 days for less than $100,000, but in a month and half -- a little less, really -- we've grossed over $240,000. And I'm already planning my second film to start shooting in February -- a little musical about a 14-year-old boy and a chimpanzee." He also told Stewart his next film would be a musical comedy called George Washington's Bed. That's me shrugging right now.

Somewhat bafflingly, DeGeatano would write, produce, and direct two more films -- just not the simian musical about the Father of our Country he referred to, whose fate is unknown. 

First up was Haunted (1977), where a witch’s curse condemns the town who drove her into the desert to die, which starred a barely sober Aldo Ray, and the boner comedy Scoring (alias Dribble, 1979), which sees the Battle of the Sexes spill onto a basketball court.

He would also write and direct the ersatz slasher Bloodbath in Psycho Town (1989), where a student film project goes staggeringly awry, and Project: Metalbeast (1995), an ersatz cryogenically frozen werewolf movie, which I seem to recall liking well enough when first encountered on home video. But then I didn’t realize it was the same guy who did UFO: Target Earth, which was probably a good thing at the time.

Ergo, what little talent there was cannot save DeGeatano’s first film from itself -- well, make that full of itself. For while I can respect the lofty ideas of the script and the ingenuity on display with such a limited budget to achieve said script’s astronomical ambitions, the end result is nowhere near as good or profound as DeGaetano probably imagines it to be.

Thus and so, the call of “pretentious twaddle” on UFO: Target Earth still firmly stands.

Originally posted on October 26, 2018, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

UFO: Target Earth (1974) Jed Productions :: Maron Films / P: Michael A. DeGaetano / AP: Thomas H. Tolbert / D: Michael A. DeGaetano / W: Michael A. DeGaetano / C: Jerry Crowder / E: Michael A. DeGaetano / S: Nick Plakias, Cynthia Cline, LaVerne Light, Tom Arcuragi, Phil Erickson, Brooks Clift, Tom Harper