The Charge

Because everyone needs a little road rash now and then!

Opening Statement

What kind of MST3K fan are you? Are you merely a casual MiSTie, recognizing the show's overall quality while owning few actual episodes or do you go so far as to scour Web sites for heretofore unknown Convention Con videos featuring long lost segments of Joel, Mike, and Company? Are you content to know the names of the three main "characters" in the show or do you move beyond the basics to memorize the various one-off and ancillary individuals who've skirted the fringes of the series' skits? Are you content to have experienced many of the worst movies ever made, filmic phlegm like Manos: The Hands of Fate and Bride of the Monster or have you become so jaded by these obvious examples of cinematic stench that you prefer to champion chum like Secret Agent, Super Dragon and Radar Secret Service? Well, no matter your level of obsession, whether you're a Mystery Science tenderfoot or a true diehard denizen of Ward E, the greatest TV show in the history of the medium continues its cult-like conquest of the planet. Rhino keeps releasing the stellar volumes of old episodes and, as the DVD-buying public catches wind of the series' sensational satire, an entirely new generation of MST3K mavens is manufactured. This eighth installment offers a high percentage of later shows, yet from its Comedy Central classicism to its Sci-Fi Channel silliness, this is a series that continues to inspire affection—thus, the questioning of fandom status.

Facts of the Case

It's Mike, Mike, and even more Mike (Oh, yeah, and a single example of Joel) as Rhino unleashes its eighth volume (that's 32 offerings of MST3K goodness for those of you without calculators) of the series. This time we're dealing with salacious stuffed toys, two competing astro-nuts, and a foppish film noir that fails to live up to either cinematic term. With two installments from Season 9, another from Season 6, and one reaching all the way back to Season 4, we have a cross section of post-premium MST3K. Individually, we are dealing with the following failed storylines:

Disc One: Hobgoblins (1987, MST3K Episode 907)
It's another lonely night at the local low-budget film studio and stupid security guard trainee Kevin decides to visit a long-locked vault and do a bit of safecracking. Apparently that age-old adage about curiosity applies equally well to rent-a-cops as to cats. No sooner does our hero jimmy the deadbolt than a collection of skid-row muppets makes a beeline for the exit. Seems these extraterrestrial émigrés are anxious to spread their fantasy-fulfilling mind-melding hallucinations all over Southern California. Just their luck, they run into the oversexed Daphne, the undersexed Amy, and the same-sexed Kyle (they've already met the perplexed Kevin). Into this musky, pheromone-based balderdash comes Nick, Daphne's dim-bulb solider boyfriend who enjoys his woman's weird waist gyrations and beating up Kevin with a stick. After Kyle almost dies, the Grem-Crit-Ghou-Blins set their sights on Amy. Before you know it, the gang has lost this libido-less gal. They all end up at Club Scum where, for one low cover price, you can experience an effete MC, a disturbingly disconnected waitress, and the only J Geils tribute band in the lower 48. Also present is the missing Miss, who decides that this converted high school cafeteria would make a perfect place to engage in a bit of asexual stripping. Naturally it's all the Hobgoblins' doing and Kevin must collect the little blighters and deliver them back to the studio before they continue to confuse the already panicky population of L.A.

Disc Two: The Phantom Planet (1961, MST3K Episode 902)
Astro-naught Captain Frank Chapman and his conveniently disposable co-pilot Ray are out exploring the twinkle-light reaches of cinematic space when a shower of aluminum foil causes their ship to hit a harrowing plot contrivance. Eventually Frank finds himself on an oversized rock formation. Suddenly, he shrinks down to the size of a space flea and, once miniaturized, runs afoul of the puny population of the planetoid. They are a really small race of people who follow the sage-like stutters of a leader named Sessom. Though he's a much smaller stranger in an infinitely stranger land, Sessom hopes to make Frank at home by offering him his choice of brides. One is a minx-like mute named Zetha. The other is Sessom's sexy daughter Liara. Somehow our junior rocket jockey manages to screw up this decision and is soon put through a bizarre pre-marital challenge to the death with a hard-ass named Herron. Before they can cold-cock each other, the Phantom Planet is attacked by a squadron of pissed-off puppies known as the Solarites. Seems Sessom's people control all the gravity in their galaxy—which, when you think about their sub-atomic size, really isn't all that impressive—and the determined dog people are jealous of this physics-defying dimension. It will take teamwork, a control panel loaded with goofy glass rods, and a captured Solarite prisoner to save this silly movie from its own speculative hogwash.

Disc Three: Monster a Go-Go (1965, MST3K Episode 421)
Another unfortunate fly guy, Frank Douglas, is ramming his rocket through the stratosphere when he gets caught in some manner of cosmic anomaly. His capsule crash lands on earth and, in one of those unbelievable coincidences that occasionally happen when mere mortals play glorified God with the cosmos, the fine young Frank turns into a hideous, hulking old geezer with rotten bread dough hanging from his cheeks. Apparently, the extraterrestrial enigma made this Corvette-driving chick magnet into a certified Monster a Go-Go. As the literally pizza-faced fiend stumbles across the countryside looking for victims to satisfy his newfound homicidal space-dust lust, the individuals in charge of saving or slaughtering him stand around arguing over journal entries. Oh, and they also down dozens of martinis with anchovy stuffed olives! No matter how hard they try to track him, the Army is incapable of finding this fumbling Frank-n-Stain. Turns out he was hulking around the Chicago sewers for some reason. Eventually, our interstellar beast wears out his Earthly welcome and, instead of some fancy action sequence or effect-laden send-off, our title creature just up and disappears. Then a voiceover tells us that Frank Douglas actually landed safely at sea, completely unharmed. Huh? Talk about your specious speculative fiction.

In addition, we learn the answer to the famous question, what's worse than the circus? Why the Circus on Ice, that's what. This squalid little short combines the most horrifying elements of the big top with a decided hatred of all things decent to deliver a frightening frozen-water workout.

Disc Four: The Dead Talk Back (1993, MST3K Episode 603)
A gal of questionable virtue finds herself body pierced by a fatally placed crossbow arrow and, since the police are a little lax in their pre-CSI investigation skills, they decide the best way to find the killer is to advertise their evidence to the residents of a local boarding house. Seems our ka-bobbed babe had a few secrets and her fellow tripwire transients are more than happy to spill the scandalous beans. Eventually a group of suspects starts to emerge, including a pervy photographer, a hyper-religious bloke, and the angriest man in the world (who, unlike the angriest dog in the world, is capable of lots of over-the-top movement). Eventually, the cops turn to inventor, scientist, and fashion bon vivant (his well-groomed hair and neatly trimmed beard are MARVY!) Henry Krasker, who is developing a very interesting device. Seems he's constructed a kind of afterlife answering service that allows for the recently departed to speak to the living. Yes, The Dead Talk Back and Henry hopes to nail the murderer with his collection of pipe cleaners and leftover bubble wrap. After a pseudo-séance yields nothing, Henry ups the guilt factor. Eventually an obvious suspect confesses after being convinced that Krasker had the victim's corpse as a component in the DOA mechanism. Turns out it was just a bit of mannequin chicanery.

In addition, we learn that our love of ice cream has very little to do with 31 flavors, deliciously decadent hot fudge, or that stomach soothing sweetness of our favorite cold comfort food. Nope, apparently we are drawn in by The Selling Wizard, Anheuser Busch's nickname for its catalog of grocery store freezer units.

The Evidence

People often ponder what the seminal spoof-athon known as Mystery Science Theater 3000 would make of modern mediocre movies. Would its take on, say, Poseidon be any different than the time the guys ripped on Catalina Caper? Could this series take on such blockbuster tripe as Wild Wild West, RV, or White Chicks and still maintain the high quality of comic criticism it's known for? The answer, surprisingly, is probably no. MST3K was always set up to take on films of noble if noxious intentions. Whether the motives were to make money or explore the entertainment elements of the medium, the creative forces of the past never promised us a motion picture masterwork. Such arrogance never comes across in offerings like The Giant Gila Monster, Earth vs. the Spider, or The Screaming Skull. Indeed, there is a high level of hope in each one of these less-than-stellar stink bombs. However, today's movies believe themselves to be cinematic gods that can't envision failure and balk at any suggestion of their less-than-satisfying aspects. It's a self-delusional righteousness that ruins the chance for true lampooning. After all, how do you attack something that's already countered your criticism with conceit? It's like making fun of a supermodel, except without the fallback position of anorexia. No, modern missteps like the recent Omen remake would die on the MST3K operating table, unable to garner a single substantive laugh—and it's haughtiness that harms the humor.

Look at the movies featured in Volume Eight of Rhino's wonderful DVD series. Each one is trying to be clever (The Dead Talk Back), cutting (The Phantom Planet), creative (Hobgoblins), or just competent (Monster a Go-Go). They aren't artificially attempting to be more than they're not and the aroma of auteurism is nowhere to be found. Each one represents someone's vision and an honest effort to entertain. Sure, some shoot for loftier goals than the others (Planet prides itself on its space junkiness, while Monster can't make a molehill out of its sci-fi scrapple) and skill can filter out the stumbles (The Dead Talk Back) from the sacrilegious (Hobgoblins). Yet the one overriding factor here is Mystery Science Theater 3000's ability to find the inner funny. It all has to do with reticence. X-Men 3 is a big, bloated preposterously pompous piece of mass-marketed manure that can't see the fanbase forest for the tax-break trees. It's bad in ways that are almost impossible to parody. The same with the drawn out and dreadful Da Vinci Code. One could try and imagine what Mike, Joel, Crow, and Tom could do with these 2006 examples of half-baked hokum, but the results would probably be unpleasant rather than unhinged. MST3K works best in an atmosphere of the unassuming. By looking at the four films featured, we can see how the unpretentious thrills while outright ego kills. Let's start with:

Hobgoblins

The '80s was an awful era for film. The vast majority of movies made fit into specific noxious niches (teen sex comedy, lame slasher slice and dice) and, with the burgeoning video market, there appeared to be an endless revenue resource. As a result, anyone with an ounce of idea tried to make their vision viable. Some of this may explain Rick Sloane's Critters copycat, Hobgoblins. Or maybe Sloan is just an imbecile. Whatever the case, this abortive attempt at entertainment boasts more groan-inducing scenes than the entire Vivid adult film catalog—and these are not the good kind of moan and growls. From the nyphomaniacal Daphne, who celebrates her sluttiness with something called the "pelvic percolator" (it has to be seen to be believed) to Kyle who creates an orientation quandary with his lust of hetero-porn while being dressed like an extra from Wham's "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go!," we have a pair of characters who chaff at our sense of cinematic decency. Still, it only gets worse. Once Amy escapes to Club Scum, we get the fabulously awful Fontanelles doing their seminal sonic miss "Kiss Kicker, '99." While lead singer Spit Spignola (frankly, it's the perfect stage handle for this moron) works his wounded wail, we are forced to watch a cast of several fake enjoyment. It's the same level of strained interest one must assemble to sit through this flaccid furball farce. Sloan obviously wanted to make his version of a "gremlins on the loose" monster movie. Unfortunately he created human characters more horrifying than his beasties.

For many, this installment of MST3K represents the series' Sci-Fi Channel highlight. By this point in Season Nine, the show had found a good relationship rhythm between new villain Pearl and her harried helpers, Professor Bobo and The Brain Guy. Equally effective was the robot-dominant dynamic between Mike, Tom, and Crow. During the sketch segments, we get a hilarious look at Crow's documentary on women (he believes them to be myths, like Bigfoot) and a delightful bit involving a phone bank for those traumatized by the film. There is also an excellent pseudo-song (sung by cardboard cut-outs of Mike and the 'Bots) and a wonderful Terminator spoof in which Servo goes back in time to stop Rick Sloan from making this movie. Unfortunately, the well-timed kick to the shins delivered by the bright red fireplug turns out to be the event that inspired Sloan to make this mess in the first place—at least, in MST3K lore. With theater riffs that go from good (the entire sequence with Kyle and an imaginary lover) to great (the title to the Fontanelle's song gets misinterpreted in several silly ways) and a wonderful balance between characters and crappy film, this is one of the many pinnacles in the series' celebrated run.

The Phantom Planet

There is nothing worse than sloppy sci-fi, the kind of techno-speak sputum that offers awkward aliens, faux future shock, and nothing of real speculative fiction value. Then there's The Phantom Planet. This lame lost-in-Lilliput space opera represents the illogical low end of Hollywood B-picture paltriness. The sets look like leftovers from the Rocky Jones serials and the costuming recalls a cut-rate religious spectacle. While the acting is all chest-beating and breast-heaving, the narrative never gets a legitimate logical footing. Instead, we are forced to sit through scenes of semi-erotic male bonding (the entire "fight to the death" dumbness) and the stumbling attacks of an oversized schnauzer. Film fans may be interested to know that Richard "Egaah!" Kiel plays the lumbering Labrador and it's safe to say that his turn as the shuffling Solarite matches his other unexceptional efforts in The Human Duplicator and The Magic Sword (where he played a pinhead—talk about range!). When your interplanetary space saga has more melodramatic romance than laser-blasting spaceships, there's not much hope of being swept away on an adrenalin rush of pure action. In the end, we don't even care if our hero returns to his normal size. The miniaturization angle is so stupid that we've completely forgotten he has to be enlarged to return to Earth.

In fact, the same can be said for every episode offered in Volume 8. Yes, even Hobgoblins. Though it shines the brightest of the quartet, it's more reminiscent of the series' heyday than part of it. What Hobgoblins has going for it that Phantom Planet, The Dead Talk Back, andMonster a Go-Go do not, is a recognizable cinematic strategy. Both space stories suffer from weak otherworldly ideas and our Dead-headed whodunit is riddled with the antithesis of deductive reasoning. As a result, we never feel comfortable as viewers, as the movies remind us over and over again of their inconsequential elements. Even as the dog-faced Solarites attack and Aldo Farnese tries to convince us that he can call up a corpse, the level of ludicrousness is just not high enough. No, only Hobgoblins goes the extra excruciating mile to deliver timeless sequences of sickening sleaze, matched with music that makes hair metal sound like early '70s Sabbath. That is why this episode rocks while the rest merely roll along. There is really no such thing as bad MST3K, just gradable levels of levity. Hobgoblins earns an above average. The rest reside right in the middle.

Visually, the show transfers look especially good. The mastering from video to digital is sharp and extremely colorful. Occasionally, the movie will let the image down (especially in Monster a Go-Go, where no-budget production values mean editing defects and defects aplenty), but as for the series itself, MST3K always makes a fine appearance on DVD. Regarding the audio, MST3K is not an aural exercise in speaker specialization, so all you'll get is a front-channel heavy, crystal clear presentation. Do you need something more than that for your Dolby Digital Stereo dollar? Once again, there are no extras offered here. There really is no point in complaining, though. Rhino isn't really listening, anyway.

Closing Statement

There will be some dissenters out there that cluck over the comment that MST3K could not create classic comedy out of the brazen balderdash that breeches all over our modern multiplex. They will point to obvious examples like Battlefield Earth and Van Helsing and howl at the thought that their favorite cinematic satire couldn't handle these heinous entertainment Hellspawn. They may just have a point. Travolta's lamentable love letter to his spiritual sci-fi writer guide does have the necessary elements for a good comic cleaving and that Hugh Jackman joke violates so many aspects of the horror movie genre that it deserves to be hoisted on its own CGI petard. Still, this doesn't mean they'd be easy to eviscerate. No, it takes a certain kind of celluloid sluice to make for perfect MST3K material and, while three of the films here inspire less than flawless funny business, they all project the proper quality of determined directness that makes them impeccable irony silage. In 2006, we have truly lost our sense of cinematic paradox. Everything is either a blockbuster or unfairly misunderstood. Mystery Science Theater 3000 cannot function in such an ambiguous entertainment bubble. Like the four films offered on Volume 8, there has to be some diffidence. Without it, all that's left is narrative narcissism—never a recipe for wondrous wit.

The Verdict

Not guilty. Never guilty. Can't ever be guilty. Case closed!

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