Everything I needed to know, I learned in Cub Scouts
By Conservative Detective—An Original Article:
I spent the afternoon watching INVADERS FROM MARS (1953), which I saw at the old, 69th Street Movie Theater, in 1953,
And then I watched INVADERS FROM MARS again (1986), the “reimagining”, which I I saw on the Millennial favorite, Netflix
The 1986 version was worthless. It stinks.
The old, 1953 version had it all—scary, artful, acting, casting, production values, script, story, plot—and special effects for the time were stunning.
In 1953 we still believed there could be cities and intelligent civilizations on Mars. We didn’t know it was really just a frozen, lifeless desert that looked like New Mexico.
The 1953 version was a visionary, imaginative, work of art, and was meant to be. There were inspired, weird sets—in the police station, the lab scene, the alien ship—and other places that just made your hair stand up.
Because in that dark theater, you were transported—taken to another universe, another world, where Jimmy Hunt was a kid just like you, and made you feel as you could never feel in the 1986 version.
In 1953, men were masculine men, and women were feminine women. The military were good guys. The aliens were evil. The Kid in the movie was always you, and he would always save the day. It was all wonderful and it worked.
We knew which rest room to use out in the theater lobby.
In 1953, nobody swore. Mom and Dad slept in separate beds, wore pajamas, and didn’t engage in sex onscreen. Kids knew right from wrong. Police, and government were good and there to protect you. Liberals were Communists, and there were only a few of them.
The 1953 version opens with a scary Story, delineates Story, and proceeds like an explosives-laden freight train with Story: WHO can you trust? The police? The psychologist? Not even your own mom and dad when they come to get you!
The 1986 version opens with a totally bogus, not believable, I-Wanted-To-Vomit scene with son and dad—and within 17 seconds (I counted) we are treated to both father and boy ripping out, “Smart ass, holy shit, Jesus, hell, doo-doo.”
In one of the next scenes Dad is picking his ears, inspecting the debris, and flicking it away with his fingers. See: this gives the demented actor a chance to “act,” and try and steal the scene with Acting Antics.
Karen Black plays the school nurse, and brings NOTHING to the film. Nothing.
The Kid—Hunter Carson—is Karen Black’s real son, and I think this may have been his only movie role.
Anyways…the 1986 is FULL of dissociated, meaningless vignettes meant to scare us and create tension, but they are just crap, and fail miserably. You even have an electric, toy robot suddenly “coming to life” as some mysterious UFO force activates it.
Yawn, Ho-hum. 😴 💤
These sequences really stink. This movie is garbage. Especially compared to the 1953 version—I mean 1986 is just lethally awful.
(Wait a second, I need a shot of Tequila to continue. I’ll be right back….)
Okay. I’m back.
So…this 1986 abortion of a film does Not follow the old script. It’s nothing like the original. The “monsters” turn out to be some sort of big, bloated, useless-looking, Jim Henson “Mr. Potato Head.”
And the space ship looks like a tasteless meld of THE WIZARD OF OZ and a cheap version of ALIENS.
It’s a “reimagining,” which I think is something the Hollywood geniuses made up one cannabis-permeated night, at a back corner table in Burger King, on the back of a dirty napkin.
What makes this all worse than anything, is that the 1986 version seems to think it has superseded and eclipsed 1953. It proves this by displaying as forgotten junk and refuse, in the basement of the schoolhouse—the old prop of the Ruler Super Martian from 1953.
In closing, at the end of INVADERS FROM MARS—1986, The Re-Imagining—we have Larraine Newman from Saturday Night Live—in the movie—doing her very best Coneheads Voice.
Remember the Coneheads?
Well…I mean, with that, she TOTALLY stops the action; she trashes the entire film at that moment—the whole thing goes right out the window as everything comes to a screeching halt—what? WHAT? WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?
THE FRICKING CONEHEADS???
Please bring back, 1953?