jamesrupert2014

The ever-mischievous Felix the Cat connives his way to Hollywood where his quick thinking, marksmanship and skill with a sword earns him a contract from none other than Cecil B. DeMille. This early, slightly surreal silent cartoon features one of the biggest animated stars of the era as well as caricatures of some of the era's biggest 'real-life' stars including Charlie Chaplin, William S. Hart, Ben Turpin, and Gloria Swanson. This fun little short was the first of a long line of cartoons featuring caricatures of 'Hollywood Royality' and the antics of the rubbery little black-and-white cat with the detachable tail are always amusing. #50 in the '50 Greatest Cartoons'

In the aftermath of history's most famous (and Hollywood's most fictionalised) gunfight, Wyatt Earp (James Garner), along with his tubercular shootist buddy 'Doc' Holliday (Jason Robarts), goes after the skulking killers who bushwhacked his brothers, leading to a showdown in Mexico with their boss, the villainous cattle-rustler Ike Clanton (Robert Ryan). Although featuring a completely different cast, John Sturges' tale of Earp's 'vendetta ride' is essentially a somewhat more fact-based sequel to his hit 'Gunfight at the OK Corral' (1957). Doing his best to buck his usual affable movie-persona, Garner is pretty good as a vengeance obsessed hard-case lawman and Sturges does a good job of timing the action to blur the distinction between self-defence and murder, a blur that Holliday, as Earp's gun-toting 'conscience', comments on a number of times. As always, Ryan makes an excellent black-hat and the rest of the cast, which includes John Voight (in his second film role) is fine. The desert cinematography is stark and beautiful, and the shoot-outs (the raison d'etre for most oaters) are nicely staged. The film opens with a pious statement that the tale is factual, a claim that should be 'taken with a grain of salt' (a character shot dead in a quick-draw showdown in 1882 was actually shot dead off his horse by a man with a rifle in 1887).

Massai, a proud Apache warrior (Burt Lancaster) escapes from prison-train bound for a Florida reservation, returns to his frontier homeland where he becomes a renegade thorn-in-the-side of the 'Whiteman' while on the run with his woman Nalinle (Jean Peters), daughter of Santos, the weak, alcoholic Chief of the remnants of Massai's once powerful tribe (Paul Guilfoyle). Despite what these days would be the fatal faux pas of much of the main cast being in 'red-face', Robert Aldrich's semi-revisionist Western is pretty good. Once you get past Lancaster's ice-blue eyes and legendary Hollywood grin, he makes a good renegade brave and (with similar caveats) Jean Peters is fine as his long-suffering but tough mate. Aldrich's sympathies clearly are on the side of the natives but the various 'Whitemen' are not as stereotypically deplorable as they are in the more 'preachy' revisionist oaters. The cast is generally good, there are some amusing scenes (notably the back-and-forth between the 'wild' Apache warrior Massai and the 'civilised' Cherokee farmer Clagg (Ian MacDonald)), the colour cinematography is excellent, and the script, while replete with the usual 'Indian English', doesn't stray too deeply into cliché; however, I found the story's ending to be a bit flat, maudlin and contrived. Massai was an historical character, but there is little biographical in 'Apache'.

Nasty aliens led by Ramses (Christopher Lee) plot to eliminate big-headed good aliens before extirpating humanity and taking over our planet. Quickly released to cash in on the popularity of 'Star Wars' and 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' and surfing the '70s fascination with UFOs, this Canadian production is generally awful. Christopher Lee wears an amusing flying-serpent adorned jumpsuit but, as aliens are telepathic, the usually excellent actor never speaks. Robert Vaughn plays a UFO-expert with his standard one-note delivery and an unfortunately constantly-clad Penthouse Pet of the Year Victoria Johnson rounds out the cast as some kind of alien. The 'big-head' make-up is pretty good but, in the aftermath of 'Star Wars', the 50's-style special effects look primitive and amateurish (although the UFO scenes often worked for me because they resembled the equally primitive and amateurish looking 'real pictures' of flying saucers that were making the tabloid rounds at the time). An odd attention to detail saves the film from the absolute bottom-of-the-barrel: many of the silly looking flourishes are based on 'eye-testimony' of 'actual' UFU abductees (eg the pointy androids, the flying serpent emblem). I went to this film when it first hit the theatres (the ads on TV looked promising) and remember being both staggeringly disappointed and curious as to how Christopher Lee would explain his presence in this space-turkey to his frequent co-star, Peter Cushing, who had recently achieved action-figure status after starring in 'Star Wars'.

After Shinichi Ichikawa (Show Aikawa), a nebbish schoolteacher with a cheating wife and resentful kids fashions a cheap-looking replica of the costume of 'Zebraman', his favorite childhood super-hero, he discovers the black-and-white outfit actual gives him superpowers, which become useful when he is forced to battle some gooey, green nose-goblin aliens who are taking over people's minds for nefarious purposes. The story makes little sense (note: I have not read the antecedent manga) but Aikawa's character is likable, the 'action sequences' are fun, there are some comical scenes (I particularly liked the victim of Zebraman's deadly back-kick) and the film has a goofy low-budget appeal (especially for viewers who pick up on the meta-humour and the tokusatsu in-jokes).

After his experimental radio opens communications with Mars, Arthur Wyman (Grant Mitchell), a down-and-out inventor uses Martian technology, such as methods to synthetise diamonds and gold, to become fabulously wealthy. The film was produced and displayed in 'Teleview', an early experiment in 3D that used paired out-of-sync cameras to combine images from two different perspectives. The projected film was then watched through special viewer that used rapidly opening and closing irises such that each eye would only see the image from one perspective allowing 'persistence of vision' to create an illusion of depth. Apparently the system was quite good at generating a 3D effect but the viewers were complex and cumbersome and 'Teleview' was never used again after the initial showing of 'The Man from M. A. R. S' at the Selwyn Theater in New York City in 1923. As of this writing, no copy of the 3D version exists but a 2D version, entitled 'Radiomania' is held by the BFI and currently is included on the Blu-ray disc '100 years of 3D Movies'. The film itself is a lightweight romantic fantasy as the poor inventor with big dreams needs to make good before marrying his landlady's pretty daughter Mary (Margaret Irving). Needless-to-say, the best parts take place on Mars and are both imaginative and comic. This may be the first film to portray the classic 'big-headed' alien (we are told that the Martian cranial capacity is about a gallon and that an Earthling brain is about the same size as that of a Martian chipmunk). There is also an amusing scene in which Arthur orders Martian women's fashions. Mary is nonplussed by the small box that contains the top half of the outfit and later outraged at the interest that Arthur takes in the girls modeling the voluminous Martian skirts and skimpy Martian tops. While probably viewed more for historical interest that entertainment, 'The Man from M. A. R. S' is an imaginative example of an early science fiction film and given the prevalence of big-headed aliens (especially on the covers of the pulps) should be better known.

Led by a were-tuna, sushi come to life as fierce flying-fish and slaughter sexy servers and cretinous customers at a Japanese inn. Can anyone, including the bare-breasted bukkake star, survive the noxious nigari, the sinister sashimi, and the malevolent maki? Also, the terrifying tamago has a lovely singing voice. Everything is over-the-top in this goofy, gory comedy. Plot, acting, script, etc are incidental as everything is simply a set-up for a sight-gag, tacky CGI, or a fake looking blood-geyser. Not as engagingly ridiculous as 'Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead' (2011) but in a similar vein and, like that eproctophiliac epic, anyone who can get past the title will probably enjoy the film. Watched on Tubi with English subtitles.

A disparate group tries to survive in a creepy building while a monstrosity and its minions take them out one by one. Beyond a few lines about bringing back a dead loved-one, there is not much of a coherent storyline nor any character development, just a bunch of grotesque 'boo' moments strung together. The cinematography is the typical dark, murky chiaroscuro with lots of saturation and flickering lights typically used to 'heighten suspense' while masking weaknesses in the special effects. The acting is sufficient for the characters, the script is reasonably free of cliches or forced attempts at humour, and there are some imaginative shots (such as the triangle slowly forming in the clouds). I agree with comments that the filmmakers did a lot with a very limited budget, which makes the film interesting from a production perspective at least. Be warned: if you decide to watch 'The Void' because you have read it favourably compared to Carpenter's 'The Thing' (1982) and Barker's 'Hellraiser' (1987), you likely will be hugely disappointed.

After being torn off the Earth by the 'magnetism' of a 'dead star', Shrimpton-on-the-Sea, a coastal British village forms a tiny independent 'planet', suspended between the attraction of the Earth and the passing star. Cut off from the rest of England, the residents begin to bicker about who's in charge of their new world: the Lord of the Manor and associated toffs or the 'commoners' and workers. The premise is complete fantasy, with a premise that is simply a setup for a 'topical' social-comedy about the equitable division of resources with stereotypes putting face to the opposing points of view (a radical socialist worker verses a snooty Lady of the Manor). The acting is fine for the material, with the best characters being Harold Drake (Eliot Makeham), the reluctant newly 'acclaimed' leader representing common people of 'Shrimpton-in-Space' and Lord Bravington (Morton Selten) as the equally reluctant 'hereditary' leader representing the status quo. The film is short, low-budget (notably in the 'special effects'), and the comedy quickly descends into farce as the two sides prepare for 'war'. The storyline of Englishmen being separated from King and Country is not uncommon in British comedies and 'Once in a New Moon' makes an interesting companion to the post-WW2 comedies 'Passport to Pimlico' (1949) and 'The Admirable Crichton' (1957).

Having escaped the annihilation of his father's army by Imperial troops (relegated to the villainous Harkonnens), Paul Antreides (Timothée Chalamet) and his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), a Bene Gesserit 'witch', join the Fremen, Arrakis' fearsome desert warriors. Due to the millennium-old Bene Gesserit program of spreading myths and prophecies throughout the universe, Paul is seen by many of the Fremen as the Messiah who was foretold to free their world and make the arid planet a paradise. Like 'Dune, part one', Denis Villeneuve's vision of Frank Herbert's popular book is very well done, especially the sets, props, and cinematography. The acting and script suffices for the relatively 'basic' main characters (Paul and Chani, Chalamet and Zendaya). Chalamet is fine when brooding or messing around with worms, but lacks something when trying to sound imperious and powerful, and Zendaya spends most of the film looking looking some combination of tough, suspicious and annoyed. The secondary characters are more interesting (IMO) especially Jessica and the Bene Gessarat Reverand Mothers, but like most villains, the Harkonnens are a bit over-done (but much less so than the hammy and cartoonish characters in David Lynch's 1984 lensing of the story). The only thing I disliked about the film were the inconsistencies in what would 'work' as a weapon in the Dune universe: in the book, 'shields' neutralised energy and fast-moving projectile weapons, so killing was done by blade, but slowly, so as to penetrate the shield; in the movie, energy weapons seem to be used when convienient and there's lots of flashy knife play but little to suggest that the shields were being defeated (and if no shields, why bother with knives (other than highly choreographed melees look really cool)). All in all, like part 1, part 2 is a well-made, entertaining version of a book considered unfilmable. I'm unsure whether to look forward (to or get my hopes up for) the next installment in the epic - I never liked the subsequent books in the series.

Disturbed by our atomic tests, gurgling monstrosities armed with spears emerge from the bowels of the Earth, attack Los Angeles and then encase the devastated city in a fog that hardens into an obdurate barrier that is impervious to humanity's puny weapons. Can the few survivors trapped within the fog-dome stymie the sub-terrestrial invaders' deadly plans? The premise is sufficiently contrived that five characters and three monster suits can represent an existential war of survival. The film is notorious for its excessive use of fog that, while consistent with the storyline, obscures much of the action much of the time (which may be for the best). For a low-budget production, the monster costumes aren't bad and the filmmakers must have been pleased with their titular stars - there is no tension-building wait for a 'big reveal', viewers are treated to a clear look at a Slime-person before the opening credits roll. On the other hand, the script is awful, at times the acting is borderline amateur, the plot is ludicrous, the shoe-horned-in romances are dispensable, and the attempts at humour are limp. There are some better moments: the use of a wild-fire damage as a stand-in for a ravaged city was frugally clever and the quick-cutting used to make three costumes look like a horde was reasonably well done. On par with 50's-era bottom-of-the-barrel creature-features, but much better than the dreck produced by Larry Buchanan later in the 60s (which saves the slime-folk from a 1 or 2 rating). Watchable by anyone who watches this sort of thing.

Lured to a strange planet, a spaceship crew finds the debased remnants of a once-great civilisation ruled by a malevolent computer. I generally like the garish charm of Italian space-operas but 'War of the Planets' is terrible, even by my forgiving standards. The plot makes little sense (and devolves to no sense when the guy with the fangs shows up), the special effects are awful, the endless beeping, clicks, klaxons, and ominous organ music tiresome, the script trite and infantile, and the acting terrible (as best as I could judge watching an English-dubbed version). Directed by Alfonso Brecsia in an attempt to cash in on the success of 'Star Wars', the film is the first of five that share cast and crew members as well as props and special effects (such as they are). Apparently the final film in the series (1980's 'Beast in Space') had some porn inserted as box-office bait. Only watchable by dedicated fans (and even then only barely). The incoherent storyline was not helped by the American distributers rearranging scenes in order to get an action-packed opening (like that in 'Star Wars').

Young tenderfoot Steve Miller (Don Dubbins) drifts into a valley dominated by tough-guy horse-breeder Jeremy Rodock (James Cagney) and quickly discovers a distaste for the kind of frontier justice administered by the rancher at the end of a rope. Quickly complicating matters is Rodock's 'woman' Jocasta (Irene Papas) who is ashamed of her past as a dance-hall pianist (likely a euphuism for her main occupation) and some murderous horse-rustlers. Although not particularly graphic considering the storyline, the film has a hard-edge (especially when Rodock's brood-mares and their foals are stolen). Stetson'd or a fedora'd, Cagney's tough guy is always the same, but he's still good in the standard western-trope of the 'old-timer who built the west and now thinks he owns it'. Papas (and her character) are much better than the usual female in this type of oater and the rest of the cast, including Stephen McNally as scumbag foreman McNulty and lean Lee Van Cleef as the amusingly monikered 'Fat Jones', are fine. The mountain cinematography is outstanding, and the script and Robert Wise's direction elevates the relatively standard tale of epiphany and redemption. Despite the plot's apparent predictability, the ending was, agreeably, not what I expected.

Desperate to maintain the space-program pork-barrel after a faulty system is discovered on the first manned mission to Mars, a vast and complex plot is hatched to simulate the landing on a sound-stage using Hollywood-style special effects. Released about the same time that 'fake moon-landing' conspiracy-theories were gaining ground (Bill Kaysing's self-published book 'We Never Went to the Moon: America's Thirty Billion Dollar Swindle' came out in 1976), the film portrays exactly what 'believers' maintain happened in June of 1969 (and again in November, then twice in in 1971 and twice again in 1972): under the glare of studio lights, fake astronauts stepped from a fake lander to stand in the fake dust of a fake world. The film's nicely done 'fake landing' occurs relatively early in the story and much of the action begins when the astronauts discover that, as the spaceship failed to return to Earth, they are currently 'dead' and realise that, to maintain the conspiracy, they soon will be. The premise is fun and the film is entertaining if major 'suspension of disbelief' is allowed: like many conspiracy theories, the capacity for the perpetrators to 'fake' reality seems limitless (but of course, despite their vast resources, they can't seem to take out one nosy reporter). The climatic arial chase in the desert is outstanding, and while it makes no sense for the two searching helicopters to stay together, the interaction between the two birds, as they seem to look at each other and nod, is brilliant. Sadly, all of the entertaining implausibilities that lead to the climatic 'reveal' are let down by a truly hokey final scene. The acting is functional but formulaic with all the best lines going to Telly Savalas's cranky crop-duster character. The infamous OJ isn't given much to work with but, like fellow 'fake Mars-landers' James Brolin and Sam Waterson, suffers nicely in his desert scenes. All in all, dumb if you think too much about it, entertaining if you don't. Of course, maybe it's actually a documentary...

After successfully leading the billion-dollar Manhattan Project in the race to beat Nazi Germany to the atomic bomb, physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer deals with the ethical implications of the 'genie he let out' while finding himself under investigation as a national security risk. Apparently reasonably accurate (by Hollywood standards anyway), Christopher Nolan's film is a well-executed historical drama highlighted by outstanding cinematography. Cillian Murphy, who can pull off fine hat, is very good (even if he seems to be 'vogueing' occasionally for posters and lobby cards) as he heads up an ensemble cast who are given excellent material with which to work. I'm not a big fan of non-linear storytelling (I find the sudden shifts in perspective breaks up the narrative flow as I struggle to match up the numerous characters with their counterparts in other time-frames) but Nolan is very good at this sort of 'time-space' trick (of which 2017's 'Dunkirk' is an outstanding example). The only scenes I could have dispensed with were when 'Oppy' was being questioned and would briefly manifest his flashback in the present (eg when he recalls having sex with commie Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh), suddenly we're treated to them 'in flagrante delicto' in the interrogation room - a silly, gimmicky and unnecessary flourish to an otherwise mature film). A tiny flaw (IMO) in an otherwise outstanding work.

Agents from a distant future in which women have been rendered infertile and bearded by atomic fallout travel into the past (1911) to kill Albert Einstein, thereby preventing the invention of the nuclear bomb and returning women to smooth-faced fecundity. As time travel films go, this one is more about setting up predictable pratfalls, sight-gags, and food fights than respecting temporal logic and the grandfather paradox, so be warned. The 'future' is moderately well done, and the 'twist' ending is amusing. Don't be put off by the IMDB quote about the cat - it's misleading when taken out of context.

Similar to his earlier speculative documentary 'Luna' (1965), Pavel Klushantsev's 'Mars' explores (then) current planetary science (greatly simplified and illustrated with cartoon imagery) and offers a look at what a possible future might hold when humans, or at least our machines, finally make the journey to the red planet. Unfortunately, by the time the film was released, the photographs from Mariner 4's flyby dispelled the evocative visions of Martian vegetation slowly spreading as the summer released moisture from the frozen poles or of the great canals, presumably built by a long dead civilisation in a desperate attempt to save their dying world. Too bad, I prefer E. R. B.'s 'Barsoom' to the real thing. Like 'Luna', the film will be of interest to anyone interested in the history of Soviet space-science but the depictions of the 'future' (i.e. Moon exploration and colonisation) in the older film are much more detailed and entertaining. Amusingly, when commenting on life on Mars, both films refer to the first Russian science-fiction feature: the silent 'Aelita, Queen of Mars' (1924).

To avenge his father, Stanley Stanfield (Onslow Stevens) allies himself with Prof. Carl Van Dorn, a 'genius with electricity' who brings an invisibility belt, a death-ray, and a giant remote-control robot to the struggle. Together with spunky girl-reporter Gloria Grant (Ada Ince), the daughter of Wade Barnett (Walter Miller), the merciless businessman who drove Stanfield's father to death, they take on Barnett's crew of heavies, led by tough-guy Dorgon (Richard Cramer) for 12 chapters packed with brawls, explosions, booby-traps, car-wrecks, plane crashes and burning ships (without any of the men displacing their fedoras). The serial is quite well made and the plot, while admittedly far-fetched, holds together well and the cliff-hanger endings (and their subsequent resolutions), although 'typical' of the genre, are satisfying (ie no 'cheats'). Unusual for the genre, the plethora of fantastic gadgets are not in the hands of a criminal mastermind, but rather in those of an ally of hero, and the blood-thirsty professor, who is just itching to turn his death ray on something other than plants, is easily the most entertaining character in the serial. The special effects are quite good (for era and genre). The 'turning invisible' effects are very well done and, unlike cheaper chapterplays (such as 'The Purple Monster Strikes'), there is not a constant recycling of optical effects as numerous characters use the 'ray' to turn invisible in a variety of places and poses. There is efficient use of stop-motion to demonstrate the effects of the death ray on living tissue and the robot is great: a giant flailing tin-man with orangutan-like arms and a huge nose that terrifies even the coolest of the heavies. Not unusual for a 12-parter, the episodes become a bit repetitive (Stanley gets tied up a lot and there is always someone eavesdropping when an important plot-point is discussed) but the story moves along briskly to an agreeable conclusion. Cinematographically, the 90-year-old serial has aged well except for some Hal Roach-like undercranking in the fight scenes that results in unintentionally humorous sped-up effects. Note: Roy Kinnard's 2008 book 'Science Fiction Serials: A Critical Filmography of the 31 Hard SF Cliffhangers' states that this serial has been lost but recently high-quality copies of all 12 chapters have appeared on You-tube.

Guy Birkett (Ronald Hines) and his wife (Petra Davies) awaken every morning from a terrible dream only to live another near identical day surrounded by invasive and obnoxious advertising; meanwhile, a strange man (Timothy Bateson) desperately tries to contact Guy only to be told to come back tomorrow, an option he maintains is impossible. Based on a story by Frederick Pohl, this amusing episode of the old anthology is quite well done considering the series' limited recourses. Hines is quite good in the classic sci-fi role of a character who is slowly discovering the unreality of his world and the 'twist' ending is clever and satisfying. Definitely one of the better episodes to survive the BBC's regrettable short-sightedness in deciding to dispose of much of the high-quality science fiction it produced in the 1960s, presumably to save a few quid by recycling the tapes.

After a brief lesson in basic (and now dated) selenography, glimpses of a possible future are offered in which humanity explores, then colonises the Moon, establishing underground bases and, by using the high-resolution telescopes made possible in the airless environment, observes evidence of intelligent life on Mars. The film describes a number of 'firsts' (many Russian, some American) and failures (many American, some Russian) in lunar exploration, which are historically quite interesting. Notably, there are numerous women shown to have contributed to Soviet space science. There is a lot of physics explained in accessible ways, sometimes illustrated by entertaining cartoons (I liked to explanation about the fuel-to-payload ratios - if you want to go to the moon verses if you want to land on the moon verses if you want to land on the moon and return). The film ranges from deep and dry to light-hearted and amusing. There is even a touch of self-referential whimsey as the sighting of life on Mars includes spotting Aelita, the central character in the first Russian sci-fi film: the silent pean to interplanetary workers revolution: 'Aelita, Queen of Mars' (1924). The last third of the film is the most fun, as a potential future of lunar exploration and colonisation is depicted, including discussions of on-site production of oxygen and the conversion of caves to pressurised shelters. The miniature work and special effects are nicely done (reminding me of the excellent silent Russian space epic 1936's 'Cosmic Journey'). All-in-all, Pavel Klushantsev's 'Luna' should find an appreciative audience in anyone interested in the history of space exploration or in Russian sci-fi or speculative-documentary films.

The ability to transfer memories and personalities into the minds of host 'contacts' guarantees immortality to anyone who has previously arranged such 'contacts' (but oblivion to those who have not); however, the ramifications of multiple 'minds' in a single body have yet to be fully understood. The satirical fable borders on the irrational as the government, keen on distracting people from 'real' concerns such as the economy, vigorously endorses the technology despite the obvious problems that will arise when bodies house more than one person (or worse: one women proposes that she and her dog be contacts) - presumably, the promise of life after death is the ultimate 'opiate of the masses' (people go to 'pre-contract' movies to literally laugh at death). Patrick Wilson (Peter Halliday), the titular lonely man, is one of the poor souls who doesn't have a contact and, terrified that he might die 'permanently' at any moment, convinces a very drunk James Hale (George Cole) to serve. Needless-to-say, this all goes wrong and soon Hale's wife (June Berry) has no idea to whom she is speaking as her husband becomes more and more obsessed with avoiding risks. Based on a story by dystopian author John Brunner, the sketchily laid-out premise is too fanciful to be taken as 'science fiction' but the story is a fun example of a 'what if...' fable as people realise that mismatched contacts will ultimately lead to a nation of schizophrenics, bisexuals and, ironically, thanatophobics (as people realise that their own perpetual existence depends on their contacts staying alive).

In a future where vessels can shift into different 'modes' of matter and travel through the Earth (rather than over it), a London-bound ship encounters technical problems while still deeply embedded in the planet, causing hallucinations and irrational behaviour in the crew and passengers. The episode starts well, presenting an interesting sci-fi premise and setting up a problem to solve, but the 'hard-science' story eventually drifts into some incoherent imagery, psycho-babble, and stops making much sense. The anthology's limited budget is on display with the futuristic 'Tau' ship looking a bit like a vacuum canaster resting on a plank floor. Too bad the BBC chose to submit this episode to the 6th International Science Fantasy Film Festival at Trieste, the 2nd season opener ('The Machine Stops') would have been a better choice.

When the captain of the interplanetary spaceship Astra (Pavel Ivanov) takes sick and is forced to quarantine himself, the three young teenagers, Sveta, Fedya, and Sasha (Ludmila Berlinskaya, Sergey Obrazov, and Igor Sakharov) who had been selected as part of an investigation of the effects of long-term space travel on children, are forced to take control of the ship. This Soviet sci-fi film is aimed at younger audiences as the resourceful youngsters deal with a number of deep-space emergencies with limited assistance from the adults back at the control center. Typical of Soviet science fiction films, the fanciful nature if the story is undercut by a more mundane ending. The special effects are reasonably good and the three young leads seemed fine (I was watching an English sub-titled version). There are some odd but pleasant musical interludes (apparently the soundtrack was popular) and the scenes in which Sveta teaches the boys to dance are charmingly incongruous. A bit slow and not to all tastes but should appeal to anyone interested in Soviet science fiction cinema.

Witness life in a massive impregnable self-contained, underground bunker, where a select group of men and women have the power to determine the future of humanity, both by bringing death and creating life. The old anthology's budget wasn't up to creating a very realistic 'dooms-day bunker' and some key aspects of the premise are a bit contrived, but otherwise this is a good example of 'atomic cinema', an anxiety-ridden, often pessimistic genre, that was popular during the cold war. The story is interesting, the cast competent and the film achieves a nice feeling of dread and of 'nowhere to run to' resignation similar to Nevil Schute's 'On the Beach'.

Fifty years into a century-long voyage to a planet orbiting Alpha Centauri, members of a generation-ship's crew begin to suspect that their mission is not simply to explore, and perhaps colonise, a potential new home for humanity. Based on a short story by prominent 'new-wave' sci-fi author J. G. Ballard, the story focusses on the psychological problems that may complicate long-term manned spaceflight, addressed in this case by using forced mental-conditioning to keep the crew focussed on the mission despite their knowing that they will be long dead before their destination is reached. The story is interesting and, despite the anthology's limited budget, is well-produced with an intelligent script, a competent cast, and a satisfying ending.