Like a Shakespearian fool, Phil Tucker’s B-movie masterpiece mumbles hard truths at every turn, the foremost of which is . . . to put it bluntly . . . humanity’s doomed. “Yikes” indeed! But hey, the good news is the ride there is a helluva lotta fun!
A German doctor, aptly titled “The Professor” (John Mylong), concocts an antibiotic which protects against damn near everything, including the common cold (f.y.i. a stunningly similar trademark of heroin), and, yes, even the ominous Calcinator Ray (thus, the good Doctor’s serum apparently counters and prevents Calcium overdoses) of a fat-assed ape in a diving helmet (George Barrows) from the planet Ro-man, i.e. Russia (yes, I’m aware Ru-man would be more appropriate but I’m not the guilty party here). So, in short, the Russkies are germs who, like any good Commie, attempt to rape and physically abuse the women-folk before killing off everyone who doesn’t house an excessive amount of fur. At least Martin Scorsese’s safe . . . .
Aside from the requisite doom and gloom that comes in the mail with every free sample of detergent, Robot Monster speaks to us on many, many more levels. For example, we learn that the early 1950s were really boring in that the film, made in only four days, grossed over . . . are you sitting down? . . . a million, yes, 1-0-0-0-0-0-0 dollars at the box office. Furthermore, unless you missed the whole of the decade, here’s a newsflash: Russians are bad, bad news that should be avoided at all costs. They take the form of aquatically-prepared primates from another planet and rape, enact child murders (yes, plural), and kill everyone (oops, did I say that out loud?). Sure, pretty seedy stuff for the 1950s but Tucker isn’t one to shy away from the truth anymore than little Johnny, who forthrightly tells Ro-man “You look like a pooped out pinwheel.” Take that Lenin and Co.!
How can we determine that Ro-man is a metaphorical depiction of our Red antagonists during the period? Aside from the Great Guidance’s logic-bending declaration that Ro-man is “an extension of the Ro-man,” the villain in question is highly irritable (a trait which no American possesses, ergo is the vice of every Russian within fifty kilometers), as evidenced by the fact that Ro-man engages in Steven Martin-esque hyper anxiety as the telescreen rings off the hook, repeatedly disturbing the character’s otherwise enjoyable molestation of the only female, Alice (Claudia Barrett), left on the planet without enough wrinkles to make a Sharpei look baby-fresh (that is, “Mother,” played by Selena Royle). What’s more, Ro-man, much like his namesake, is short-winded for he pauses between the first and second syllable of each word, i.e. “Ro-man,” “Hu-man,” “Al-lice,” and “can-not.” Ob-viously, on-ly Com-mies would have the au-dacity to have a speech im-pediment.
Amid all of the Russian malevolence, one can empathize with the die-in-the-wool, all-American characters that is, with the exception of the paterfamilias, who’s–what else?–German. As such, who can blame them for delivering their lines in record time in the face of such an omnipotent, follicly-gifted enemy ? On that note, we can forgive poor Alice for being a stingy with the soldering iron as she works a full 48 hours in order to just miss the deadline, that is, saving the only other people on the planet. Of course, things would have progressed a lot more readily had she remembered to turn on the machine before attempting to use it. (Yet it can be argued that the other remaining Americans didn’t stand a chance in that they were attempting to flee in a spacecraft on a stick.) Furthermore, whose to fault Alice and her beau, Roy (George Nader), a man who–amid a vicious ear bleed with no discernable cause–pauses to take the time to bed ol’ Alice in the tumbleweed in lieu of Ro-man roaming the countryside after issuing one and all a one-hour ultimatum? Not me, for–like a good, guilt-ridden American male–Roy proposes immediately afterward despite the fact that the couple are the only non-relatives in existence and that marriage no longer holds any value. As such, as time nonetheless continues to dwindle, Roy–shirtless–and Alice–in makeshift veil (i.e. scarf-cum-veil)–are joined by the Professor. Understandably, Roy capitalizes on the “Get It While the Gettin’s Good” philosophy as the couple then plan and proceed to go on a honeymoon! And all of this after Ro-man informs Johnny that his kind were obligated to invade Earth for fear that humanity was growing too intelligent and would shortly be able to posit an attack of its own upon the hapless Russ . . . er . . . Ro-mans.
If all of this is a bit much too take, don’t fret, for Tucker inserts a two-second intermission in his 62-minute feature, just long enough for the viewer to realize what is written across the screen before proceeding to continue with the maiming.
If the meat of Tucker’s feature isn’t challenging enough, he makes sure that form follows function by supplying his narrative by way of a convoluted plot. With what appears at first to be poor editing, little Charlie, after taking a nap with his family, awakens with the legs of his pants having mysteriously disappeared (a frequent concern during the period from what I hear). We come to deduce that the evil Ro-man’s Calcinator Ray is the responsible, clothing-depleting party. (Now you know what all the hub-bub was about during the Cold War.) However, not only does the alien beam house the ability to yank the legs clean off your britches, it also changes your name and gives you a new, albeit of a different nationality, father. That’s correct, little Charlie, the bastard son of whoever, is now little Johnny, complete with a brand-spanking-new Germanic dad. Unfortunately, the ray does have side-effects, such as the impairment of one’s ability to count past ten as eight, no five, no seven, er, six people, no . . . some people are left on the planet.
Cleverly, we come to learn that we were good-naturedly duped and all’s well and good for Charlie/Johnny actually never woke from his dream and that he was in La-La Land all along. That’s right, there is no Ro-man, no diving helmet, no rape, no Russkies, no poke in the bushes (pun fun!), no wrinkly old women . . . well, there’s still the Sharpei-impersonator. Thus, instead of having been victim to a poor, poor storyline and inconsistent narration, we come to find out that, ingeniously–on a level comparable to Stanley Kubrick–the tale was told by an idiot, i.e. Charny. So, no, Phil Tucker’s Robot Monster isn’t a cinematic fiasco of monumental proportions, rather an epistemological tour de force that makes the works of David Lynch look like Sesame Street.
Trivia tidbit: On a sad–however ironic–note, Selena Royle would later be blacklisted, only to make two more films during her career.
-Egregious Gurnow
- Interview with J.R. Bookwalter - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Andrew J. Rausch - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Rick Popko and Dan West - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Director Stevan Mena (Malevolence) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Screenwriter Jeffery Reddick (Day of the Dead 2007) - January 22, 2015
- Teleconference interview with Mick Garris (Masters of Horror) - January 22, 2015
- A Day at the Morgue with Corri English (Unrest) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Writer/Director Nacho Cerda (The Abandoned, Aftermath) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actress Thora Birch (Dark Corners, The Hole, American Beauty) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actor Jason Behr, Plus Skinwalkers Press Coverage - January 22, 2015
