First off, let's start with a given: Anyone so chest rippingly stupid as to actually compare this micro-budget fiasco with the Spielberg behemoth needs to have scorpions dangled into their eyeballs. For a long, long time.
This is a movie brought to us by the magnificently awful The Asylum production house, most of whose output is a direct cash-in on other major Hollywood releases; Transmorphers, The Day the Earth Stopped, The Da Vinci Treasure etc.
Written by, directed by, starring in, driven to the multiplex by, hawked on street corners by the wonderfully excitable and relentlessly twitchy C. Thomas Howell (he's been in real shows you know (24, Coronation Street, ER, The Big Fat Lie) the story here picks up 2 years after the cataclysmic events of the big budget elder brother. The Martians are gone, wiped out by the microbes that so handily came to humanity's rescue, but Howell's George Herbert is none too convinced, and constantly monitors 'channels' to keep an ear out for any "ULLAH!" from outer space. As luck would have it, it's not long before The Walkers are back and, within the blink of an eye, one of the mighty robotic tripods has swept his son away, providing him with the mission required for the movie to continue.
Oh, thrown into the mix is some guff about time / space portals, a faux Earth fashioned by The Martians to fool our heroes, and a nice line in organic spacecraft interiors fashioned via the medium of pink blankets covered in cling film, and you've got the general idea.
Cheap as chutney, but to be admired for the sheer audacity of the rip-off, as well as the film-makers clear ambition (we can't afford to make it, but by The Christ's we're going to make it anyway), I say ignore the naysayers and check this out sci-fi geeks. You might just enjoy it as much as I did.
This is a movie brought to us by the magnificently awful The Asylum production house, most of whose output is a direct cash-in on other major Hollywood releases; Transmorphers, The Day the Earth Stopped, The Da Vinci Treasure etc.
Written by, directed by, starring in, driven to the multiplex by, hawked on street corners by the wonderfully excitable and relentlessly twitchy C. Thomas Howell (he's been in real shows you know (24, Coronation Street, ER, The Big Fat Lie) the story here picks up 2 years after the cataclysmic events of the big budget elder brother. The Martians are gone, wiped out by the microbes that so handily came to humanity's rescue, but Howell's George Herbert is none too convinced, and constantly monitors 'channels' to keep an ear out for any "ULLAH!" from outer space. As luck would have it, it's not long before The Walkers are back and, within the blink of an eye, one of the mighty robotic tripods has swept his son away, providing him with the mission required for the movie to continue.
Oh, thrown into the mix is some guff about time / space portals, a faux Earth fashioned by The Martians to fool our heroes, and a nice line in organic spacecraft interiors fashioned via the medium of pink blankets covered in cling film, and you've got the general idea.
Cheap as chutney, but to be admired for the sheer audacity of the rip-off, as well as the film-makers clear ambition (we can't afford to make it, but by The Christ's we're going to make it anyway), I say ignore the naysayers and check this out sci-fi geeks. You might just enjoy it as much as I did.