Saturn Three (1980)
Country: GB
Technical: col 87m
Director: Stanley Donen
Cast: Kirk Douglas, Farrah Fawcett, Harvey Keitel
Synopsis:
There's dirty work afoot at the lunar site of an experimental food station, when the officer despatched to support the couple working there turns out to be an inadequate drug user who has usurped the assignment by dint of homicide, and brings with him a robot whose brain impulses are modelled on his and turn out to be even more dastardly!
Review:
Where does one begin? The story makes very little sense; we are told nothing about the nature of their work at the station, or why, for example, there is what looks like liquid nitrogen flowing under the gantries; the dialogue is devoid of wit or interest, causing Harvey Keitel to speak like a robot and Farrah Fawcett like the ship's computer on Dark Star; the effects are on a par with the latter film, unacceptable for a space pic made post-Star Wars and Alien; and unfortunately the makers choose to use real robotics for their creature, which have accordingly dated even further. Besides the general silliness, Miss Fawcett appears with an aged Douglas in a succession of sexy outfits and in more bedroom scenes than one would have thought possible in this running time, but it is short, at least. (It was a troubled production at ITC, changing director midstream, and trumpeting itself with an advance publicity campaign which foisted the black lingerie-clad Farrah in alluring poses. If such found their way into the finished film, they finished up on the cutting room floor when the company panicked about the film's commercial prospects. So to did much of the ambiguity surrounding the Douglas character, who in Martin Amis's script is a thinly disguised variant on the Prospero of Forbidden Planet, whose self-exile with this particular Miranda has a whole other species of egotism about it.)
Country: GB
Technical: col 87m
Director: Stanley Donen
Cast: Kirk Douglas, Farrah Fawcett, Harvey Keitel
Synopsis:
There's dirty work afoot at the lunar site of an experimental food station, when the officer despatched to support the couple working there turns out to be an inadequate drug user who has usurped the assignment by dint of homicide, and brings with him a robot whose brain impulses are modelled on his and turn out to be even more dastardly!
Review:
Where does one begin? The story makes very little sense; we are told nothing about the nature of their work at the station, or why, for example, there is what looks like liquid nitrogen flowing under the gantries; the dialogue is devoid of wit or interest, causing Harvey Keitel to speak like a robot and Farrah Fawcett like the ship's computer on Dark Star; the effects are on a par with the latter film, unacceptable for a space pic made post-Star Wars and Alien; and unfortunately the makers choose to use real robotics for their creature, which have accordingly dated even further. Besides the general silliness, Miss Fawcett appears with an aged Douglas in a succession of sexy outfits and in more bedroom scenes than one would have thought possible in this running time, but it is short, at least. (It was a troubled production at ITC, changing director midstream, and trumpeting itself with an advance publicity campaign which foisted the black lingerie-clad Farrah in alluring poses. If such found their way into the finished film, they finished up on the cutting room floor when the company panicked about the film's commercial prospects. So to did much of the ambiguity surrounding the Douglas character, who in Martin Amis's script is a thinly disguised variant on the Prospero of Forbidden Planet, whose self-exile with this particular Miranda has a whole other species of egotism about it.)
Country: GB
Technical: col 87m
Director: Stanley Donen
Cast: Kirk Douglas, Farrah Fawcett, Harvey Keitel
Synopsis:
There's dirty work afoot at the lunar site of an experimental food station, when the officer despatched to support the couple working there turns out to be an inadequate drug user who has usurped the assignment by dint of homicide, and brings with him a robot whose brain impulses are modelled on his and turn out to be even more dastardly!
Review:
Where does one begin? The story makes very little sense; we are told nothing about the nature of their work at the station, or why, for example, there is what looks like liquid nitrogen flowing under the gantries; the dialogue is devoid of wit or interest, causing Harvey Keitel to speak like a robot and Farrah Fawcett like the ship's computer on Dark Star; the effects are on a par with the latter film, unacceptable for a space pic made post-Star Wars and Alien; and unfortunately the makers choose to use real robotics for their creature, which have accordingly dated even further. Besides the general silliness, Miss Fawcett appears with an aged Douglas in a succession of sexy outfits and in more bedroom scenes than one would have thought possible in this running time, but it is short, at least. (It was a troubled production at ITC, changing director midstream, and trumpeting itself with an advance publicity campaign which foisted the black lingerie-clad Farrah in alluring poses. If such found their way into the finished film, they finished up on the cutting room floor when the company panicked about the film's commercial prospects. So to did much of the ambiguity surrounding the Douglas character, who in Martin Amis's script is a thinly disguised variant on the Prospero of Forbidden Planet, whose self-exile with this particular Miranda has a whole other species of egotism about it.)