In the 1960s, people were looking for gurus, idols, totems, a good high and some esoteric guidance along the difficult paths of life. Some found it in LSD. Some found it in music. Some found it in beat poetry. Some found it in the philosophy of that Maharishi guy in India.
In this movie, a rogue scientist finds it in a giant alien slime monster from Venus called Zontar. Our scientist is your regular weirdo who’s got a giant Ham radio that looks like something swiped from the Star Trek set. Through this contraption, he finds Zontar, he talks to Zontar, gets to know Zontar, falls for that old Zontar charm and along the way becomes persuaded by Zontar that the human race really needs to be taken down a few pegs. We’re not worthy of having satellites up in space. That shit’s gotta come down, even if it means a little Invasion of the Body Snatchers action, a few deaths and mass calamity when Zontar somehow shuts down all mechanical devices, including cars, watches and plumbing in the small, sunbaked community where the American aeronautics industry does their stuff.
Is this a good movie? No. Is this a fast-paced movie? Fuck no. The line to renew your driver’s license moves faster than this. What this has is that ramshackle, directed-by-Larry-Buchanan vibe. You’re deep into Bad Movie World (which probably isn’t that far from Venus). There’s a palpable desperation in every frame. Every scene feels like an accomplishment just for reaching the end without falling apart too badly. You feel accomplished when you reach the end, as well, because this is not an easy one to get through.