|Fig 1: Restraint|
This is the third and final synched-review of late Seventies/early Eighties space opera movies. Guanolad, Jamas and Al have also covered this movie -check them out!
I am ten and- do you really want me to continue beginning my posts this way? Okay, how about this: I wanted to see this when I was a kid, arranged to watch it the first Saturday it got into town with my friend Paul (who I was 'sharing' with his weirdly jealous next-door neighbour), missed the first week, and on the last weekend, while mowing my Nan's lawn, watched then bicycle home past her house with my rival crowing that they'd just seen Flash Gordon and I hadn't. Screw you, Geoffrey McIntosh, screw you!
|A bullet for my rival in friendship, Mister Memories, sir...|
|This is the tamest 'kinky' picture I can find.|
The campness is a knowing wink towards the dated aesthetic of Alex Raymond's original strip, an appealing but unworkable welding together of Buck Rogers SF and the derring-do of a Douglas Fairbanks serial. This is borne out by the special effects, which switch the two-stroke whining sparkler-farting piano string borne rockets and painted cycloramas of the Buster Crabbe shorts (not those kind of shorts!) for studiously-designed models and a LOT of blue screen over lava-lamp cloud formations.
|Welcome to Mongo, hope you like red!|
|Gaze into the Ring of Ming!|
Yup, if you're going to be in with this movie, you need to cast aside a too-critical eye, and maybe be a little longer in the tooth than the movie's adventure is pitching at.
But look - there's the ingredients here for a hell of a remake, and I hope Matthew Vaughan is taking notes as well as phoning The Darkness to do the soundtrack.