Boy, does this film comes across as quite a disjointed mess, but it's the very murky nature of the cloudy narrative that makes it such a dippy hoot. The story goes something like this: Two kids and an adult in a tiny rural hamlet have an run-in with a spaceship. Twenty-five years later the kids are reunited as adults. Meanwhile, a puzzling series of cattle mutilations plague the area that take on a much more sinister aura when people start to get gruesomely murdered too.
Director Greydon Clark, working from a muddled, yet still interesting script by Jim & Ken Wheat and Curtis Burch, relates the entertainingly convoluted and oftentimes confounding story at a steady pace, does a sound job of crafting an intriguing mysterious atmosphere, neatly captures the sleepy nature of small town American existence, and delivers a decent smidgen of gore along with a ridiculously from out of left field car chase and exploding automobiles for good lurid measure.
The earnest acting by the sturdy cast helps a lot: Jan-Michael Vincent as rugged deputy Wayne and the positively ravishing Cybill Shepherd as sassy scientist Jennifer make for appealing and attractive leads, Neville Brand growls it up with lip-smacking brio as crusty rancher Walt, Martin Landau makes a likable impression as amiable good ol' boy marshal Niles Buchanan, Vincent Schiavelli contributes a perfectly creepy turn as a crazed prospector brandishing a lethal light saber-like weapon, and Raymond Burr lends his commanding presence as Jennifer's stern father Dr. Kramer. Popping up in colorful smaller parts are Brad Reardon as Walt's spoiled brat son Eddie, Darby Hinton as jerky ranch hand Darren, Playboy Playmate Susan Kiger as an ill-fated blonde babe, and Greydon Clark in an uncredited bit as a bumbling city slicker. Daniel Pearl's glossy cinematography provides an impressive polished look. Dan Wyman's harmonic score hits the snazzy spot. The gaudy (not so) special effects possess a certain groovy psychedelic charm. Granted, we're not talking work of art here, but it's fun enough in a distinctly loopy Grade B sort of way.
Director Greydon Clark, working from a muddled, yet still interesting script by Jim & Ken Wheat and Curtis Burch, relates the entertainingly convoluted and oftentimes confounding story at a steady pace, does a sound job of crafting an intriguing mysterious atmosphere, neatly captures the sleepy nature of small town American existence, and delivers a decent smidgen of gore along with a ridiculously from out of left field car chase and exploding automobiles for good lurid measure.
The earnest acting by the sturdy cast helps a lot: Jan-Michael Vincent as rugged deputy Wayne and the positively ravishing Cybill Shepherd as sassy scientist Jennifer make for appealing and attractive leads, Neville Brand growls it up with lip-smacking brio as crusty rancher Walt, Martin Landau makes a likable impression as amiable good ol' boy marshal Niles Buchanan, Vincent Schiavelli contributes a perfectly creepy turn as a crazed prospector brandishing a lethal light saber-like weapon, and Raymond Burr lends his commanding presence as Jennifer's stern father Dr. Kramer. Popping up in colorful smaller parts are Brad Reardon as Walt's spoiled brat son Eddie, Darby Hinton as jerky ranch hand Darren, Playboy Playmate Susan Kiger as an ill-fated blonde babe, and Greydon Clark in an uncredited bit as a bumbling city slicker. Daniel Pearl's glossy cinematography provides an impressive polished look. Dan Wyman's harmonic score hits the snazzy spot. The gaudy (not so) special effects possess a certain groovy psychedelic charm. Granted, we're not talking work of art here, but it's fun enough in a distinctly loopy Grade B sort of way.