It! The Terror from Beyond Space
IT! ...Reaches through space! ...Scoops up men and women! ...Gorges on blood!
Year of Release: 1958
Genre: Science Fiction/Horror
Rated: Approved
Running Time: 69 minutes (1:09)
Director: Edward L. Cahn
Cast:
Marshall Thompson ... Col. Edward Carruthers
Shirley Patterson ... Ann Anderson
Kim Spalding ... Col. Van Heusen
Ann Doran ... Mary Royce
Dabbs Greer ... Eric Royce
Paul Langton ... Lt. James Calder
Robert Bice ... Maj. John Purdue
Richard Benedict ... Bob Finelli
Richard Hervey ... Gino Finelli
Thom Carney ... Joe Kienholz
Ray Corrigan ... It
Summary:
They landed on Mars. "IT" was waiting - and help was light-years away.
The panic button is pushed in this 1958 science-fiction thriller about a band of space explorers who suddenly find themselves being explored - and murdered - by a maniacal creature solely compelled by its primitive instinct to hunt and feed.
The commander of a stranded expedition on Mars is found by a rescue ship to be the lone survivor of his ten-person crew. However, his rescuers soon believe he has purposely murdered the entire crew to save the ship's limited supplies for himself, thus lengthening his chance of survival. Unfortunately for all, the commander is found to be innocent when they discover "IT" is aboard, and nothing - including bullets, gas, or grenades - will stop it.
Review:
It! The Terror from Beyond Space, remindin' us that if Elon Musk ever manages to occupy Mars, he'll only be the second biggest blood sucking parasite to do so.
If I could be serious for a moment, though, I'd like to ask everyone to please bow your heads and take a moment to say a little prayer for a good friend of mine who passed away unexpectedly this past week.
Ever since he came into my life he'd been a constant source of stability and a light in the darkness when things seemed to be at their most dire, and although we occasionally butted heads over matters of the utmost importance (ya know, like whether to include A New Beginning in our Friday the 13th marathons since it ain't really Jason under there), we always forgave each other for any harsh words that'd been spoken in the heat of cinematic debate because the flicks're always better when you're among friends.
Bein' in the public eye like I am, ya get to know a lotta people (though usually just well enough to feel comfortable askin' to borrow $20 till you're able to cash your cans in), and what I find myself left with is many acquaintances but very few friends, and he was one of the truest.
He left his mark on my life and mosta the furniture (in his defense, it was usually dark and he'd often had too much to drink) and always reminded me that there was still goodness in this world when all evidence suggested otherwise, and if I'm bein' completely honest, I'm feelin' kinda lost. I'll never forget you, buddy.
Shankles is survived by his companion, Eve, their 72 children, and numerous friends and well-wishers. We're asking that the public please respect the widow's privacy during this difficult time as she processes the loss of her partner, and as a word of warning - anybody on the waiting list for possum kits would do well to steer clear of Chateau Sadie until such time as they are contacted, lest they leave the residence with more corners in their skeletal structure than they arrived with.
For the sake of convenience, and to best accommodate the flood of mourners, Skunky Hernandez allowed me to hold the funeral service during the intermission at the Grime Time since we were showin' another Larry Buchanan movie that night and everyone was gonna be depressed anyway. But I was real touched by all the folks who stopped by to offer their condolences even if most of 'em had their mouths stuffed fulla popcorn at the time.
"I'm gonna miss ya, buttwad. You were one tough son of a bitch," Duke Tankersley said before moving along, the memory of having laid Gank to rest just a short distance away two years before striking him suddenly and causing a sharp twinge of sorrow.
"You were... worthy adversary," Shanghai Muttley remarked, placing a hand over the scarred remains of the pectoral muscle Shankles mangled during an attempted arrest, before offering a respectful nod to the miniature casket Billy Hilliard'd built for the occasion.
"Goodbye sweet baby... Mama loves you," Roxanne Bigelow sobbed, turning away and burying her face into Duke's matted chest hair.
"Kicked the bucket, huh? Well, good fucking rid--" Talon Higgle was sayin' when Tetnis abruptly came around the corner of the concession stand and buried an elbow directly into his nose, sending a shower of blood in a 360-degree arc and spinning him completely around before coming to rest face-first into the horseshoe pit.
"So long, fella," Tetnis smiled sadly, kneeling down next to the coffin briefly before returning to his feet, grabbing Talon by the hair, and pitchin' 'im into the pond.
"Cah'n bewieve he've gone," Billy Hilliard said to no one in particular as Sadie Bonebreak tried consoling her missus who, bout that time, had thrown herself on the casket bawling like an old Muslim woman at an Ayatollan funeral procession.
"Yeah... I always figured he'd bury us all... ya know, after eatin' the choice parts," I chuckled humorlessly.
"Ya reowy geh afached fu 'um," Billy added, not knowing what else to say.
"I spoze ya got family... then the family you choose... and if you're lucky, the family that chooses you," I mused, turning to watch Bambi Mastrude and B.J. Wilder share an uncharacteristic embrace and lean down to say their goodbyes.
"I'm gwah he chove uf... even if ih hurf mow'n vuh naiow I puh frew mah fooh yeffowvey," Billy confessed, limpin' off to check on B.J.
After the flick I told Skunky I'd lock up and to waddle on home, and he said the concession stand'd sold six times the usual volume of draft beer that night, and I'd like to think at least half of that was folks hoistin' their Thermoses to my friend... though it's hard to say given that we were showin' Attack of the Eye Creatures and that flick carries a mandatory six pack minimum.
What's got me worried the most isn't whether I'll be okay, but what this's done to Apollo, 'cause Apollo loved Shankles like a tiny, angry, rat-like little brother even though Shankles only tolerated 'im at best. Poor guy lost his best pal in '23 when ole Gank got crushed pushin' Duke outta the path of a tumbling bear carcass and... now this.
Once everyone who hadn't passed out in their cars'd split, I grabbed a sack fulla leftover burgers and sat 'im down between Shankles' casket and Gank's grave and did my best to console 'im.
"Guess it's just you and me, dude," I said, rubbin' his ear and offerin' 'im a burger.
He took it but just laid it down on the ground and gave me a look of what was unmistakable concern after swiveling his head between the resting places of his departed friends.
"Hey, I miss 'em too, bud, but don't... don't remember that they died... remember that they *lived*," I cracked, pullin' 'im in and huggin' 'im.
"And I'll never leave ya, alright? Me, Billy, Sadie, Roxanne, Duke - we'll always be here with ya, understand?" I managed.
And I think he did.
The next mornin' I got a call from Cleave Furguson offering his condolences, and while I'da never done it if it'd just been me ('cause honestly it's kinda ghoulish) I took 'im up on his offer to stuff Shankles, and it seems to be helpin' Apollo adjust even though he understands he's not really there. That is to say, he's not wherever the mount of 'im happens to be sittin' at any given time, but that's alright, 'cause even though he ain't there, he'll always be *here* 'cause we'll never forget him.
It's pretty hard - goin' on like everything's okay when nothin' is, I mean, but I know Shankles woulda wanted us to soldier on, and the work is a helpful distraction. Plus I'd promised Apollo we'd stay up late and shotgun a half dozen science fiction flicks 'cause he loves watchin' atomic tinker toys get bombarded by intergalactic Honey Bunches of Oats clusters as much as the rest of us.
They never did explain how something could be from beyond space, but I decided to cover this one on the basis that it tends to get overlooked for bein' middle-of-the-road in the annals of '50s sci-fi. Not good enough to be considered a classic, but nowhere near bad enough to develop a cult following - the flick's kinda stuck in the science fiction mid-card despite being better than two-thirds of the fare cranked out during the 1950s boom, and so I figured it'd be a good time to do my part to get as many new sets of eyes on this sucker as possible.
I fully acknowledge and understand why it's the average titles in the middle that tend to be overlooked when it comes time to pick out a night's entertainment, but just because a flick doesn't leave a lasting impression doesn't mean it deserves to be permanently passed over. So to give ya an idea of what you've been missin', I've sifted through its incredibly courteous runtime and filtered out three unpopped kernels of wisdom just waitin' to burst open for an audience who appreciates 'em.
First, there's a fine line between justice and vengeance, and if you fly 140 million miles through space to arrest someone who's already astronomically condemned to death, you're way over it. Second, it's standard procedure to carry tear gas on a spacecraft to ensure support for illegal aliens gains no traction. And third, when you've been pinned down for nine hours by a hostile alien reptoid, it may become necessary to boldly go inside your containment suit.
The movie begins on the surface of Mars where the sole survivor of a crashed marital aid (Carruthers) is bein' picked up on suspicion of snortin' a six-foot line of Tang and murdering the other members of his crew even though it's costin' the taxpayers $8 billion and the guy was gonna starve to death once he'd exhausted his supply of Space Food Sticks. The commander of the retrieval vessel (Van) wants to see Carruthers do the boogaloo at the end of a hangman's necktie, but in the far flung future of 1973 there are still some folks who believe in due process, and so the rest of the crew (Ann, Mary, Eric, James, Bob, Gino, Joe, and John Boy) reserve judgment until a crater-faced reptile that walks like it's takin' a field sobriety test emerges from the ship's basement to ensnare Joe and force 'im to sort through all his old keepsakes so they can donate the remaining kipple to goodwill. Carruthers hears Joe's anguished cries and the crew splits up to search for 'im, only Bob and Gino end up gettin' separated when Gino stops to raid the ship's strategic tobacco reserve, and next thing ya know Mr. Green Genes shows up to make good on the surgeon general's warning. The others eventually find Joe slung up inside the intergalactic dumbwaiter lookin' like he's just gone for a spin on the carousel at the Carnival of Souls, and when John goes rootin' around inside an access culvert he finds Gino unresponsive with a debilitatin' case of E.T.S.D. and tries to coax 'im out until a gnarly three-fingered claw grabs John's face like it's about to use his head to pick up a 5-7-10 split.
John manages to escape following his close encounter of the turd kind, and the crew rigs up a buncha tear gas grenades to the steel grate covering the pipe to blast Starvin' Marvin the Martian when he goes foraging for astronoms. The plan works and the place fills up with smoke until it's cloudier'n Tommy Chong's rec-room, but when the men descend to the lower deck wearin' gas masks and brandishing pistols the bullets just bounce off the monster's chest of angry red granite and they end up havin' to retreat up the ladder where Van's Achilles gets tenderized and infected with intergalacterial cellulitis. Cut off from their stash of smokes the situation begins to deteriorate rapidly, so Carruthers and James decide to sneak out the airlock and walk down the side of the ship like Adam West and Burt Ward and enter the basement unawares to rig a portable electric transformer up to the ladder, 'cept when they try to electrocute Crocodile Bundy all it does is make the ship smell like gumbo and Carruthers ends up havin' to ditch James when his ankle gets hung up and develops a zero-point turning radius. James ain't licked yet though, 'cause he happened to be luggin' around an acetylene torch when his ankle turned into a wobble socket, and so anytime the Chomp Thing commits a personal space violation he twists the knob on the tank and makes critter fritters out of its face.
Unfortunately, Van's wheels're startin' to come off as the extraterrestrial C.H.U.D crud attacks his vessels, so now Carruthers, Bob, and Eric hafta go scour the medicine cabinet for Flintstones chewables when the heel on Mars goes into the reactor chamber to drop a coupla pootonium rods, prompting Van to jump off his gurney and twist the reactor's dial up to the Chernobyl setting. While that's goin' on, Bob's tryna lug James to safety but ends up havin' to drop 'im when the radiation levels force El Lobo del Phobos to abandon his tanning session and carve a few canals in Bob's torso to vindicate Marconi while Carruthers and Eric grab an oil change kit for Van. James makes it back to his outer safe space but by this point the ship's oxygen levels're startin' to dip on account of Lizard Borden suckin' it up like a fleet of Mart Cart operators at Walmart, and that gives the crew the first good idea they've had since they decided to stop and moon Yuri Gagarin on their way outta Earth's atmosphere. I don't wanna give away the ending for anyone who mighta missed this one when it came out back in '58 so I'm gonna put a lid on it, but I'd strongly recommend hangin' around for what was probably the best "Why do they have a bazooka?" sequence ever filmed before Pat Hingle broke one out to battle the rampaging semis in Maximum Overdrive.
Alrighty, well, you can't help but enjoy a sensible chuckle at the naive optimism of the 1950s and the idea that we'd make it to Mars by 1973, but there's also an odd sense of vicarious pride one gets watching an ambitious genre flick overcome its budgetary limitations to produce something the filmmakers and its stars needn't conceal from their resumes. I'm not gonna suggest that the production was painstakingly planned or that the filmmakers showed tenacity and gumption by refusing to pad out the running time to appease theater operators, but you really must appreciate the pace at which the flick moves and acknowledge that they understood the assignment and cranked out a cinematic Reader's Digest science fiction equivalent with a movie that clocks in at 69 minutes and moves along better than 95% of its contemporaries. No doubt, this was achieved out of necessity due to a scant six-day shooting schedule, but the urge (and perhaps, pressure) to go back and film pick-up shots must have been strong, and whether that didn't happen out of frugality, artistic integrity, or any of the myriad reasons in between, the movie deserves credit for its willingness to face the critical contempt that will have arisen for failing to live up to the cinematic expectations of the time. The downside is that a shorter running time does tend to lower a flick's chances of becoming a breakout hit due to a lack of substance, but it also greatly reduces the likelihood that it results in an exercise in tedium that becomes lost to time. It's a conservative approach to be sure (if indeed there was any kind of "approach" at all), but the "low ceiling, high floor" model of film production almost always produces something you'd be willing to watch twice, and if you've seen your share of '50 science fiction fare you will recognize the complimentary nature of that remark given what's lurking at the bottom of the barrel.
Furthermore, while you could make the case that the film's length precluded the opportunity to build any serious tension, its overall concept is one that, along with Queen of Blood, looks to have influenced future filmmakers who would take the idea and flesh it out to create one of the greatest science fiction/horror movies of all time when Alien hit theaters 21 years later. Alien is, of course, smarter, more ambitious, decidedly horrific, rife with tension, and had the benefit of major studio backing, but there's no denying that it drew inspiration from this low budget offering that left every penny it had up on the screen and presented itself in the best possible light to be seen by the folks who would remember it fondly enough to incorporate into their own projects, and as a result, it left behind a lasting legacy that built the foundation for one of the great science fiction franchises of our time. Or, if you're the cynical type, you might believe it got ripped the hell off with nary a shred of credit or piece of the financial pie that followed. You be the judge.
In any event, let's break out our probosci and find out if there's enough nourishment in this thing to sustain us for the return trip.
The plot breaks from the 1950s science fiction tradition of sentient aliens coming to conquer the planet and tries a Creature From the Black Lagoon in outer space approach that lacks the scientific curiosity of its contemporaries and will appeal more to fans of the horror genre than those of pure science fiction. Ultimately, it is the setting alone that establishes the movie's link to the sci-fi genre, and while this is in no way problematic for the flick's entertainment or production value, it is something to keep in mind if horror isn't your thing.
Those seeking depth of story may want to search elsewhere, as the flick relies primarily on its sensational (for the time) hook and relentless pace; but by the standards of '50s flicks, you'll be hard-pressed to find a genre film that attacks right outta the chute and keeps the pressure on throughout its entire run time the way Terror does. It's about as straightforward and simplistic as you can get (alien stows away and tries to kill the ship's crew), but what it lacks in detail and nuance, it makes up for in action, and for that reason, it's one of the best possible entry points for those with an aversion to older films.
The acting is commendable and features an ensemble cast that gives consistently professional (if sometimes drab) performances while staring down a 6-day shooting schedule and working with the knowledge that there weren't likely to be many retakes. What I take issue with is not the cast's performances, but its size, as there just isn't enough story (or kills) to justify it. Admittedly, by shrinking the crew size you might strain credulity with the suggestion that so few people could run a ship of its size, but it can be difficult to keep the characters straight, and there's zero emotional impact following the first two deaths as each character's total screen time up to that point amounts to seconds. Conversely, if there were three fewer characters, it would not only simplify matters, but it would increase the possibility that the creature might conceivably overrun the crew if it were to be further reduced by the climax. Truthfully, there are no standout performances, but of those given, Paul Langton gets all the best lines and brings the most personality with his portrayal of the disabled but sarcastically defiant Lt. James Calder, while Crash Corrigan is always fun to watch as the canned ham smothering to death for the sake of his art inside the rubber suit. The spacewalk sequence is also well done for the time, and is a somewhat realistic depiction despite its parallels to the Batman TV series.
Here's who matters and why: Marshall Thompson (White Dog, Fiend Without a Face, First Man into Space, Cult of the Cobra), Shirley Patterson (The Land Unknown, World Without End), Ann Doran (The Man They Could Not Hang, It! The Terror from Beyond Space, The Green Hornet), Dabbs Greer (Invasion of the Body Snatchers 1956, House IV, Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat, Evil Town, It! The Terror from Beyond Space, The Vampire 1957), Paul Langton (The Incredible Shrinking Man, The Snow Creature, Invisible Invaders, The Cosmic Man), Robert Bice (Space Master X-7, The Snow Creature, The Ghost and the Guest), Richard Benedict (Beginning of the End), Ray Corrigan (The Bride and the Beast, Zombies of Mora Tau, Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla, Unknown Island, White Pongo, The Monster and the Ape, The Monster Maker, Nabonga, The Phantom 1943, Captive Wild Women, Dr. Renault's Secret, The Strange Case of Dr. Rx, The Ape, Flash Gordon 1936, She 1935, The Phantom Empire 1935).
And the mainstream credits: Marshall Thompson (Jim Layton in Battleground, Snake Gardner in They Were Expendable), Dabbs Greer (Reverend Alden on Little House on the Prairie, Coach Ossie Weiss on Hank), Paul Langton (Leslie Harrington on Peyton Place), Richard Benedict (Bill in Crossfire).
The special effects start out promising with a charming miniature set with disabled rocket ship and a backdrop of the Martian surface, but because of the period in which the flick was produced, you know not to expect much in the way of viscera. We do see a little torn flesh in the sequence where Kim Spalding tries to escape the alien and gets his leg torn open, and there's a little dab of blood on Robert Bice's forehead after the iron claw scene, but that's the extent of the creature's carnage. The rocket blasting off is decent for the time (though it does seem to be emitting a concerning amount of sparks), but the shots of the missile floating through space are pretty cheesy, and the spacecraft is silly; if endearingly so. That's not why any of us is here, though. We're here for rubber suit monster mayhem, and as creatures from the period go you could do worse - though the disproportionately thinner arms leading into the monster's barrel-shaped torso are a bit bizarre. It's not a great costume (the creature's tongue was actually Corrigan's chin painted red), but it isn't terrible either, and to the filmmakers' credit, it gets a lot of screen time even if it's not always flattering. That's really all you need to know - they promised a Terror from Beyond Outer Space in the advertising, and they delivered a Terror from Beyond Space. My only objection is that at no time in the movie does the Terror ever carry his terrified female victim over one shoulder while doing the Heisman trophy pose as seen in the promotional materials.
The sets and production design are incredibly charming, even if you never quite get a grasp of the ship's geography. The series of different circular floors accessible by centralized ladders are interesting and make sense given the classic retro rocket architecture, and each floor is chock full of old mainframes, control consoles, and other retro-futuristic decor that brings a smile to your face and helps you overlook things like the wood-paneled office, dumbwaiter, and connective culvert pipe large enough for a spacesquatch to crouch in. Many of the props and costume pieces were recycled from old Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serials and so it's not a stretch to assume that many of the more substantive pieces were hand-me-downs as well, but when you're working on a minimal budget you don't dare look a gift horse in the mouth, and the result is a pretty snazzy spacecraft that's nothing new, but which exudes nostalgia-based atmosphere. Because the ship's floor layout isn't especially distinct from one layer to the next and you don't always know where the characters are the potential for claustrophobia is often lost, but then the monster's a bit too cheesy to engender any real sense of terror to begin with so it's not devastating to the film's mise-en-scene... such as it is.
The soundtrack brings a strong science fiction feel that helps pull the movie back from becoming a full-blown horror feature, thanks in large part to the otherworldly theremin scoring composed by Paul Sawtell and Bert Shefter. The main title was recycled from the duo's work on Kronos the year prior and features a combination of boisterous brass, aloof woodwinds, and playful xylophone that hints at a certain degree of self-awareness that many science fiction scores wouldn't dare risk. I'm not gonna claim that it's a catchy composition or that it's especially unique, but as far as I'm concerned, any composer of classic science fiction who has the good sense to utilize the theremin is a leg up on their competition because it always delivers a spooky sound that's often the one missing element in an otherwise stellar genre movie.
Overall, the flick passes based upon its technical prowess but comes up a teensy bit short on entertainment value. The slightest improvement in the suit, ship continuity, or perhaps a little humor a la Invasion of the Saucer Men, and I'da waved it through, but there's just a little something missing. Regardless, it's probably still a Top 25 title in the 1950s science fiction cycle and a good choice for anyone reluctant to check out any movie older than their parents due to its swift pacing and willingness to prominently feature its creature. Not in the same league as The Blob, I Married a Monster from Outer Space, or Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but better than The Brain from Planet Arous, Beginning of the End, and Killers from Space, and still recommended to fans of '50s science fiction films.
Rating: 59%