This is the guilty secret on Christopher Plummer's resume. If he looks distracted throughout most of the film, I am convinced it is because his agent is just off-camera, waving the paycheck at him to remind him why is doing this tripe. This film is one of those films that's so bad that it becomes hugely amusing. Who couldn't laugh at lines like: "The Temperaure drops thousands of degrees at night!" (So how hot must it be during the day???), or "Imperial Dreadnaught - stop time!" (how's that for a literal deus ex machina ending?). Thrill as windows in spaceships are broken with no inconvenient depressurisation, and the bad guys are 'sneaked' up on by a flying oil refinery. All this plus a godlike alien surfer-boy and Caroline Munro, the pneumatic and surprisingly talented star of a thousand dodgy horror and sci-fi films from the late 70s and early 80s.
They really don't make zero-budget SF films like this any more, more's the pity. As a student I enjoyed it with friends and a great deal of beer. It's great that I can now do so again.
They really don't make zero-budget SF films like this any more, more's the pity. As a student I enjoyed it with friends and a great deal of beer. It's great that I can now do so again.