Alien from L.A. (Albert Pyun, 1988)

In order to convince the audience that Kathy Ireland is a colossal dork in Alien from L.A., director Albert Pyun has her wear glasses. Done, and done, right? Wrong. Taking the tried and true method of making a conventionally attractive woman less attractive by putting her in glasses one step further, Albert Pyun has a bespectacled Kathy Ireland crouch on the beach in oversize t-shirt next to a radiant Kristen Trucksess. You see, by doing this right away, Albert Pyun was able squash any doubts we might be having when it came to buying Kathy Ireland as a colossal dork. Of course, Albert Pyun could have just told Kathy Ireland to act like a "colossal dork." But since this was Kathy's film debut, you can understand why he put her in glasses. At the end of the day, it wasn't necessary at all, as Kathy Ireland gives a nuanced and understated performance as Wanda Saknussemm, a Vista Verdes drive-in waitress with low self-esteem and Daddy issues. On top of those things, Wanda also has bad hair, she walks funny, her voice is annoying, her clothes make her look frumpy and she doesn't like to travel. Oh, and just to clarify, this isn't me talking, this is what her surfer boyfriend tells her as he's breaking up with her.

The actual list of things Robbie (Don Michael Paul) thinks is wrong with Kathy Ireland's Wanda Saknussemm goes a little something like this: "You never want to go anywhere... your glasses make you look stupid, your hair is ugly, you dress like a nerd, you walk like a clod and your voice gives me a headache."

While what he says might sound a tad on the way harsh side, it actually serves as the kick in the pants Wanda needs. Of course, there's not much Wanda can do about changing her life at the moment. It's true, there is indeed room to move as a fry cook drive-in waitress, working at Saks Drive-in alongside her Auntie Pearl (Linda Kerridge) isn't moving her anywhere right this minute.

This all changes when Wanda gets a letter from "Africa." Informed that her father, Professor Saknussemm (Richard Haines), an explorer/adventurer, fell into a bottomless pit, the letter contains a plane ticket. Why does her father's colleague/friend/sidekick/gay lover want her to travel all the way to "Africa"? Doesn't he know that she's deathly afraid of flying? That's right, he doesn't.

Nonetheless, recalling what her surfer boyfriend said to her before he dumped her, Wanda musters up all her courage and hops aboard the next flight to "Africa."

Every time they would refer to "Africa," as if it were a country, I would cringe. Thankfully, all references to "Africa" cease the moment Wanda arrives in... "Africa." Judging by the climate and architecture, I'm guessing she's going to Egypt or Tunisia.

Oh, and, by the way, I looked up Zamboanga, the so-called city in Africa where Wanda's father went missing. And the only Zamboanga I could find is in Mindanao, Philippines.

It doesn't matter, because Wanda isn't going to spending that much time on the surface world. What's the "surface world," you ask? Why it's the world that exists on top of a super-secret subterranean mega-city.

Remember the 1980s? Yeah, well, remember how totally awesome they were? Well, get this, the residents of the super-secret subterranean mega-city at the center of this movie act like it's 1980s all the time. (Yeah, because it is the 1980s.) You don't get it, man. These cats take living in the 1980s to a whole 'nother level. (I get what what you're saying, but it's still the 1980s.) What I think I'm trying to say is, the residents of this particular super-secret subterranean mega-city will be living in the 1980s long after the 1980s are over.

Let me give you an example of what I mean. Remember when everyone, for some strange reason, started wearing flannel and listening to Creed? Well, that doesn't happen in the super-secret subterranean mega-city. Uh-uh. Instead of cutting the decade off at the knees, they continue to expand on what its progenitors envisioned in 1980. Meaning, we get men in make-up, peacock feather eye-patches, Japan albums, neon clothing and welding goggles... lot's of welding goggles.

Oh, and don't bother looking for any actual welding in this movie. Welding goggles are worn as everyday eye-wear in Alien from L.A., and I couldn't be more pleased.

If you're thinking about wearing welding goggles as everyday eye-wear, never buy them from a boutique. If I see a "Cyber Goth" or an "Industrial Goth" wearing welding goggles that have been obviously purchased at a boutique, I give them the stink-eye. I know, you're thinking to yourself: Then wear do I get my welding goggles from? I got two words for you: Hardware store.

Eventually falling down the same bottomless pit her father did, Wanda finds herself in Atlantis. Yep, it would seem like the pit isn't bottomless after all. Either way, she stumbles upon Guten Edway (William R. Moses), who is in the middle of arguing with some trolls. Seeing that Guten is outnumbered and is about to be killed by the trolls, Wanda decides to lend Guten a hand.

I have to say, this was a pretty impressive display. I mean, just yesterday Wanda was being scolded for not wanting to go anywhere, and now she's throwing rocks at trolls. And not only that, she's throwing rocks at trolls in an underground wasteland near the center of the earth. I think it's safe to say, that Wanda is well on her way to becoming a well-rounded human being.

Tagging along with Guten, who she calls "Gus," Wanda hopes to find her father in Atlantis. Unfortunately, the city is a quasi police state that is ruled by Govco. In other words, people from the "purported surface world" (the state run media deny their existence) are not welcome in Atlantis.

She might not be milfy, and she might not be a scientist, but Shank (Janie du Plessis) is definitely a lady and she's clearly wielding a syringe filled with iridescent liquid. Instead of calling Shank a milfy lady scientist who wields a syringe filled with iridescent liquid, I'd say she's more of a demonic Trad Goth who wields a syringe filled with iridescent liquid.

Roaming the streets of Atlantis looking for surface folk to drug and kidnap, Shank overhears Wanda talking about Malibu Beach, and decides right then and there that she's from the surface and needs to be drugged and kidnapped, and brought to Membino (Deep Roy), the boss of bosses, for 400 shiny ones.

Judging by Shank's Trad Goth wardrobe and Membino's giant red eyelashes, I would say that a lot of effort went into the costumes and make-up seen throughout this film. And it doesn't stop there, the set design (very Blade Runner) and the production design is noteworthy as well. In fact, the "do-a-vator" (a device used to put on make-up) looks like something straight out of Life on the Edge (a.k.a. Meet the Hollowheads).

Okay, if the film has great costumes, make-up, set and production design, why was it featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000? The only reason I'm mentioning this because I recently watched City Limits, another movie that doesn't deserve to be featured on  MST3K, and I'm slightly annoyed that these films are being unfairly dismissed as bad. Trust me, I know bad movies, and these movies are not even close to being bad. Sure, Kathy Ireland isn't the most accomplished actress in the world, but I thought she handled herself rather admirably.

Speaking of handling oneself in an admirable fashion... (You're not done writing about this movie?) Just one more thing. Speaking of handling oneself in an admirable fashion, most of the principle actors play multiple roles. Take Janie du Plessis, for example, who plays the aforementioned Shank, she also plays General Rykov, a Govco stooge (I loved it when she tells a fellow Govco stooge that his pantyhose are on too tight). And remember Linda Kerridge as Aunt Pearl? Well, she shows up later as Roryis, the owner of Roryis' Saloon. There are a couple of other prime examples of multiple role mischief, but I've already said too much. In closing, if you like Radioactive Dreams, Vicious Lips (both directed by Albert Pyun) and The Dark Backward, you'll like Alien from L.A.

Vicious Lips (Albert Pyun, 1987)

Tighten the safety straps on your overpriced sex chair, because I'm about to give you an unasked for tour of the inside of a budding rock star's dream-filled brain. Well, a Sue Saad aficionado named Albert Pyun (Nemesis, Radioactive Dreams) will be conducting the actual tour, I'm just a glorified messenger. But either way, that's exactly what we get in Vicious Lips (a.k.a. Pleasure Planet), a film about big dreams and even bigger hair colliding in a new wave extravaganza of intergalactic proportions. Tired of focusing on stocking covered legs and hands sporting gloves without fingers, I chose to aim the single-minded barrel of my leering gaze on the hair and makeup of the four gals that populate this strange and almost wonderful universe. And you know what? It wasn't that hard. All I had to do was tilt my head back ever so slightly, making sure to keep my eyes trained in the same direction I was tilting, and just like that, I was experiencing the sensation that comes with looking up. What I did see? Oh, man, where do I begin? Let's just say, watching a movie where rockers from outer space cavort and frolic with the confidence that accompanies a large, bountiful head of hair will always be more enjoyable than one that features ladies with limp and unmanageable hair. I mean, what's the point of even bothering to lift your head up if the hair that greets the pain and sweat of all your elevating effort hasn't been teased, crimped, or combed to the point of mental exhaustion?

On a bluish sphere some people like to call Earth, many creatures are trying to improve their genetic output by hurling themselves headfirst into dangerous climates in a desperate attempt to stave off extinction. The reasoning being that the extreme nature of the environmental change will cause their respective DNA to fluctuate, making it stronger, more resilient. But what do you do if your particular species has already reached the pinnacle of perfection? Well, in the case four new wave chicks from the "farthest reaches of the galactic perversion," the only rational option is to rock and rule the ill-defined void that is deep space.

You see, your average new wave chick is the most evolved entity on the planet. And since the future will always be located somewhere between 1978-1985, these fashion forward gals have taken the next logical step, and that is, space travel. It's true, I have no evidence that the four main characters who populate Vicious Lips are even from California, let alone the Valley (the made-up birthplace of new wave). However, the fact that the character's back stories are nonexistent means that you're free to create ones of your own.

I wish more films would leave gaping holes in the narrative structure, because other than a few scraps of information dropped here and there, Vicious Lips is pretty empty when it comes to character development. Which sort of sounds like a negative, but like I said, it gave me the opportunity to fill in the blanks. I know, it's the job of the screenwriter, not wily audience members to spin a film's tale. But I thought the narrative shortcomings were awkwardly charming at times. In other words, as far as I'm concerned, the members of the Vicious Lips were all highly evolved Valley Girls who lived in the future, but looked like they were from the early 1980s, which is technically, you got it, the future.

A dizzying amalgam of Pitch Black, Racist in the Year 3000, Persona, and Jem and the Holograms, Vicious Lips is all about reaching for dreams. In non-vague terms, the film follows the members of a music group (called the Vicious Lips) fronted by four large-haired women as they attempt to literally transverse the vast emptiness of space in order to perform a gig at Maxine's Radioactive Dream, a prestigious music venue on the other side of the galaxy. Having just lost their lead singer, the combative Ace Lucas (Angela O'Neill), to a rival band, the three remaining ladies find themselves without a voice. Luckily, their excitable manager, Matty Asher (Anthony Kentz), is able to find another singer (one sporting a space scrunchie) just in time for them to perform their catchy brand of synth rock at the Spacecraft Lounge, a local dive famous throughout the known universe for its chicken wings, the best this side of Marejaretus VI.

While keyboard player Wynzie (Linda Kerridge) and guitarist Bree (Gina Calabrese) welcome Judy Jetson (Dru-Anne Perry) into the lips fold, their chief songwriter Amanda (Shayne Farris) isn't convinced that she has what it takes to advance the band to the next level. As you would expect, an air of mistrust forms between them. Permeating throughout most of the film, Judy and Amanda's sparring is the signature conflict of the piece. In other band news: To save money on posters, Matty changes Judy's name to Ace Lucas (he's too cheap to print up new ones).

Impressed by what she heard over the video phone at the Spacecraft Lounge (the Vicious Lips perform a raucous ditty called "Save Me," which in reality is sung by the awesome Sue Saad), Maxine Mortogo (Mary-Anne Graves) invites the Vicious Lips to play her nightclub: Maxine's Radioactive Dream (a place crawling with shirtless male bouncers and upright aardvarks who seem to be channeling Max Melodramatic from Café Flesh). Commandeering a spaceship, Matty and the band immediately take flight (like I said, Maxine's venue is on the other side of the galaxy). Only problem being that Matty isn't a very attentive pilot. Although, to be fair, it's pretty hard to concentrate on space travel when Ace is singing "Light Years Away" (vocals by Mary Ellen Quinn). Of course, while Ace is wailing, Amanda can be seen scowling in the background. All this hatred toward the new Ace has got me believing that there was something cunnilingual going on between Amanda and the old Ace.

Anyway, crash-landing on a desolete planet, Bree, Wynzie, Amanda (she's actually listed in the credits as "Mandoa," but I prefer to call her "Amanda"), and Ace try to make due while Matty goes looking for help in the amongst the sandy dunes (i.e. get accosted by two scantily clad desert dwellers played by Jacki Easton Toelle and Tanya Papanicolas). Unbeknownst to the frizzy bunch, but a beastly surprise (Christian Andrews) is lurking on board their downed starship.

An authoritative mane of hair is nothing without a strong-willed woman to stand underneath it, and Vicious Lips has four young jackanapes who looked like they were itching to get their gigantic wig on. Actually, make that three out of four young jackanapes. You see, in order to make the characters seem unique, you must add little nuances to each of them to prevent the audience from getting confused about who is who. The makers of Trip with the Teacher dealt with this problem by making Dina Ousley's Bobbie dress in all yellow.

Well, in this film, Bree (Gina Calabrese) doesn't sport big hair, nor does she wear any bight colours. In fact, she's the antithesis of new wave. At first I was annoyed by her normal looking hair (which is some times covered with a fedora). I was all like, "Who does she think she is? Someone tell her to put on a fucking wig." But then it hit me, having Bree be bland was what made her stand out from the others.

Just because Bree stuck out like a taupe thumb doesn't mean the other gals are an insipid mash of woebegone hair spray and frazzled platitudes. On contrary, Linda Kerridge's Wynzie fully embraces the rock and roll lifestyle as the band's resident fashion victim. Seemingly changing her appearance from scene to scene, the keyboard player for the Vicious Lips displays a slavish devotion to the cutting edge styles of the era. And while this dedication to funky duds is a desperate attempt to remain relevant in the youth-centric world of synth-rock, I though Linda did a terrific job of making Wynzie seem sympathetic in spite of her vacuousness.

Even though she is hardly ever seen without an irritated expression on her excessively made-up face, Shayne Farris' Amanda does have the distinction of having the film's largest hair.

Appearing to look embarrassed at times, Gina Calabrese (The Vals) seemed uncomfortable while on stage with the Lips. It's true, there could be a thousand different reasons to explain Gina's awkwardness, but I like to think the fact that her musical instrument looked like an all-in-one bug zapper, flamethrower, satellite dish was the main culprit.

Sheepishly looking back and forth, almost as if she was checking to make sure that a scornful Susanna Hoffs wasn't hyperventilating off to the side of the stage cradling a rusty paint scraper, Dru-Anne Perry explodes onto the screen as the newly minted Ace Lucas. Sure, the booming vocals emanating from her delicious mouth hole were provided by Sue Saad and Mary Ellen Quinn, but the eye movement was pure Dru-Anne. Utilizing her eyeballs to communicate the trepidation she feels over being named the new lead singer of the Vicious Lips, the stunning actress gradually stops nervously moving her eyes in a demented manner and begins to display a still-eyed brand of synth-rock confidence.

This new-found self-assurance is best observed when she wanders around what looks like the set used in the music video for The Romantics "Talking In Your Sleep" (a place where diaphanous drapery and deformed space mutants oversee the visual spectrum) and during the performance of "Lunar Madness," an exhilarating sequence that rewards the band, its squirrelly manager, and, in some respect, the audience, for the pain and suffering we all endured on that sand-covered, overly shaved bikini zone of a planet. Now, I wouldn't suggest that anyone skip the rest of the movie and only watch the last five minutes (after all, you'd miss a lot of wig-based squabbling), but the finale does do an excellent job of encapsulating everything that was righteously perpendicular about this film.

Oh, and the only cast member to possess the wherewithal to exert the power of their sturdy legs in any way, shape, or form during this film, Mary-Anne Graves manages to titillate and repulse simultaneously as chain smoking impresario Maxine Mortogo, the trendsetting owner of the Radioactive Dream (also known simply as "The Dream").

video uploaded by kot347

Special thanks to the priestly denizens over at Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies for pushing my spiritual infrastructure in the general direction of the superb slab of incompetent trash.

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