directed by greydon clark
a greydon clark production/heritage enterprises
The kind of movie that plays as though it was made for TV, this tale of inscrutable attack by unknown airborne sources is likable enough, though it can’t offer very much in terms of thrillng, fast-paced action. Really, this is the sort of eerie offering that would suffer greatly with the advent of the slasher craze. It also suffers greatly from some narrative confusion, although I will be honest and tell you that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. (You’ll catch on.) As is often the case in films of this ilk, much of the tension and action is generated by the interactions between the townfolk and the kids with the crazy story and the few strange locals who might be inclined to listen and might just know something, and so forth.
why did i watch this movie?
I can’t tell you it wasn’t because the title didn’t make me not think of this number.
should you watch this movie?
Highly redolent of its era, it also seemingly harks back to SF films of the ’50s. It did not have much of a budget. I do not seem to be answering the question.
highlight and low point
Though his character eventually wears out his welcome, Martin Landau invests his PTSD-laden “Sarge” with much conviction, and as “Sandy” and “Greg,” two actors who wouldn’t find much work past 1982 (“Tarah Nutter” and “Christopher S. Nelson,” respectively) do a reasonably convincing job. This is also future NYPD Blue/CSI: Miami star David Caruso’s first credited role, albeit a disposable one. Some of the creatures deployed are more amusing than frightening, though they do lead to the wondrous exclamation, “It’s eating the windshield!”
windshield, being eaten
I’ll admit it, I enjoy it a little too much – trotting out the jejune sally that “the REAL horror here is blah blah blah” and so forth – but dig it, man, that foolishness is perfectly suitable for this bonkers English presentation. Oh, don’t get me wrong, this film is for the most part shoddy and boring, but holy cats does it contain some absolutely bizarre goings-on. For one thing, it’s only around 84 minutes long, but it manages to contain a four-minute-plus lesbian scene that is frankly a lot more explicit than I would’ve supposed. For another thing, at a certain point – for no discernible reason – everything goes slo-mo as the soundtrack suddenly becomes extremely psychedelic and discordant. And no kidding, even though the story concerns a space alien who’s on Earth scouting for new “protein sources” (“spoiler”!), heavens to Murgatroyd but that isn’t the REAL horror here. I watched the climactic action of this picture jaws literally agape.
This picture boasts one innovative idea, which I anticipated watching unfold. Unfortunately, it didn’t bear quite enough fruit – either the producers didn’t have the nerve to take their conceit far enough or they modulated it a bit in the pursuit of mass consumption. The concept, of course, is a whole lotta silence, the reason being the premise that Earth has been invaded and decimated by aliens that hunt by sound. That’s a pretty great proposition, even with some of the questions it raises, but the filmmakers encounter issues with its execution. Now, I mean the following seriously, given that this is a movie dealing with deadly alien invaders that hunt by sound alone: far too many logical inconsistencies present themselves, disabling any suspension of disbelief. I mean, virtually from the opening scene, I was incredulous. That’s kind of a serious problem. A peculiarly reactionary sociology in the family structure has been noted elsewhere; it becomes perhaps even more curious when one considers that the director/co-writer and his wife are the lead actors.
The second feature from director Keating following 2013’s Ritual, this science-fiction hybrid feels like a more fully realized affair. Though it seems to borrow heavily from various sources, it’s as homage rather than imitation – albeit as noted, the ultimate effect is somewhat to resemble The X-Files. Getting all the way to that point, however, is more than half the fun here, as the story’s slow buildup focuses on some familial dynamics, and only in exploiting the well-meaning dismissiveness exhibited toward one sibling by his brother and sister are the realities of their situation revealed. One thing this watcher found exemplary – which other reviewers seem to think a major drawback – is the novel approach taken to fleshing out the details behind the discoveries: None. No explanation is given, no tidy synopsis offered; it’s up to the audience. Personally, I thought this gambit worked perfectly, given the subject matter. The denouement unspools in stages, some of which are surprising (not SHOCKING) and some of which are business as usual. (The makers of Antibirth must have been taking notes, however.) 
Whee! Hee hee! Yee-haw! This giddy space-station extravaganza is an FX-rich disaster film that shamelessly reminds one of numerous other similarly themed flicks (and actually is reminding this guy of 2011’s Apollo 18 right now as he’s thinking about it). You know the drill:
While technically not a horror movie, the moaning and wailing that greeted Episode VIII from its bereaved fanboys (and -girls) could have convinced one otherwise. Which, okay, I can dig where they’re coming from, as this installment plays for laughs more often than one might expect, obscures the franchise’s hoary catchphrase, and – heaven forfend! – introduces 
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 