THIS ISLAND EARTH: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1955) Shout! Factory

Billed as ‘the supreme excitement of our time’, Joseph M. Newman’s This Island Earth (1955) is an iconic, silly and obtuse sci-fi claptrap. This is the one with the creatures with the saucer-eyes, and over-sized soft fleshy brains – remember? Nearly every kid growing up in the mid-1970’s and weaned on Saturday afternoon’s UHF ‘creature feature’ will fondly recall This Island Earth as one of the most interminably revived sci-fi movies to play on television, and later, to be severely bastardized on Mystery Science Theater 3000, much to the chagrin of its producer, William Allan.  This, and its proliferation in Fangora Magazine, re-established the picture’s cult status as a failed good/bad B-movie. But it also bred a whole new generation of fans. Taken at face value – This Island Earth hails from that golden epoch in B-movies when outer space still had not been investigated by man, though fear of fallout from the nuclear bomb had, to create a cottage industry, slavishly devoted to radioactive giant bugs and other weird ‘otherworldly phenomenon, destined to threaten and destroy mankind. As humans, we still enjoy tales about our own annihilation Only now, we do it with A-list budgets, a barrage of memory-stifling CGI, and the focus shifted to alien invaders well beyond the peripheries of Mars or even Jupiter. So, to find a picture like This Island Earth, where humans invade the invaders on their home turf, and, in an intergalactic trade off in a galaxy far, far away, was, to say the very least, a very progressive undertaking.

Not that Universal-International could fully grasp Alland’s intent. And herein, we pause momentarily to recall a possible reason for the studio’s shortsightedness. By 1945, Universal was a lumbering leviathan. Despite its’ A-list production facilities, it was more of a B-grade production house with C-listed contract players. A merger between Universal and International Pictures had been orchestrated by Brit-born entrepreneur, J. Arthur Rank in 1945, simultaneously to elevate the studio’s prestige, but also provide Rank with American distribution for its home-grown product; a last-ditch effort to preserve a previous merger with United World Pictures that, in hindsight, proved disastrous and was shuddered within the year.  For a brief wrinkle in time, International’s founder and son-in-law to MGM’s L.B. Mayer, William Goetz, and, Leo Spitz, assumed corporate control of the newly amalgamated Universal-International, re-establishing the studio as an import-export subsidiary and copyright holder. As Goetz’s aim was to elevate Uni’s status in the industry, he immediately retired their low-budget serials that had been the studio’s bread and butter. Goetz also cut Uni’s yearly output from 50 to 35 movies - concentrating on quality over quantity – and releasing Rank masterpieces like David Lean's Great Expectations (1946) and Laurence Olivier's Oscar-winning Hamlet (1948) to the U.S. market, while shrewdly licensing the studio’s pre-Universal-International library to Realart Pictures for theatrical re-release.

Despite these seemingly positive changes, Uni struggled to rise above its ensconced reputation. And truth to tell, Goetz’s restructuring merely added to the financial strain on the studio’s coffers. So, by the early 1950’s franchise film-making once again became the main staple of the company: Francis – the talking mule, Ma and Pa Kettle and Abbott and Costello, front and center. At this juncture, Rank abandoned all hope of ever transforming Universal-International into a prestige company like MGM. In 1952, Rank sold his interests to Decca Records, who assumed control of Uni’s daily operations. Meanwhile, William Alland, who, for nearly a decade, had been trying to convince Universal to invest in an A-list science-fiction adventure movie, viewed this latest merger as his big chance to finally get his ideas off the ground; his clout having grown after the box office success of the low-budget smash hit, It Came From Outer Space (1953) and – better still – The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). Despite Alland’s claim that This Island Earth was 2 ½ years in the making (good for campaign poster art to promote the movie), it was actually more like 2 ½ years on Alland’s dream wish list of things to do; the entire movie shot in just under two months, and out as the bottom half of a double bill (the other half, Abbott and Costello Meet The Mummy), before you could say ‘blast off!’ With this picture, Alland had wanted to elevate the status of sci-fi in the industry. Despite its popularity with the kiddies as Saturday matinee fluff, sci-fi was still considered B-grade schlock and trash in Hollywood that no A-list company would deign to heavily invest in.

At an estimated budget of $800,000, This Island Earth was by far the most ambitious sci-fi movie Universal had undertaken to date – their first in blazing Technicolor. And yet, it already seemed ‘behind the times’ as other studios, most notably, Paramount had made two memorable Technicolor sci-fi adventures – Invaders from Mars, and, War of the Worlds (both in 1953) – each, well-received by the public. This Island Earth’s popularity with audiences would not be so swift or assured. Indeed, it would take decades to gain the sort of notoriety Alland had prayed for. The picture is based on Raymond F. Jones’ collected works, first serialized in ‘Thrilling Wonder Stories’ magazine as three thinly-related tales: The Alien Machine, The Shroud of Secrecy, and, The Great Conflict. Massaging this episodic narrative into one cohesive movie, screenwriters, Franklin Coen and Edward G. O'Callaghan were forced to concentrate their focus more heavily on the picture’s pre-outer space prologue to keep the production budget in check. So, while This Island Earth would employ some of the most inventive special effects yet seen, as well as introduce audiences to the now iconic ‘bubble-brained’ and pincer-armed alien creatures, destined to wreak intergalactic havoc, virtually all of these goodies were revealed in the movie’s last act – much too late in the public’s estimation.

William Alland was not at all pleased with the picture’s skewed concentration on what came before the scientists’ trip into the farthest reaches of outer space. Nor was he particularly happy with the cast, to include Jeff Morrow (as the benevolent alien/human hybrid, Exeter), Faith Domergue (Ruth Adams), and, the rather wooden – if ‘butch’, Rex Reason as scientist, Cal Meacham. Of these, Alland particularly disliked Domergue, whose career had been ‘artificially’ fast-tracked because of her ‘alliance’ with indie-producer, Howard Hughes. Indeed, Hughes was enamored with the already-married Domergue, whose importance in Hollywood was otherwise considered something of a joke, due in part to the colossal implosion of Vendetta (1950); a B-grade noir/thriller, stalled by Hughes’ chronic ill-health and constant tinkering, spending nearly four-years and a whopping $3.5 million to produce it. Nevertheless, today, it is likely Domergue’s performance that many recall the most from This Island Earth, if for no other reason, the penultimate scene where a terrorized Dr. Adams, awakened from her suspended animation, is ruthlessly pursued by one of the large-brained/pincer-wielding alien creatures throughout the control room of the nose-diving space ship.

This Island Earth begins with a spooky main title sequence set against the stars. There remains some discrepancy within the studio’s muddled files as to which of the three composers assigned to cobble together the score for this picture – Henry Mancini, Hans J. Salter and Herman Stein – is responsible for the inspiration for this moody overture whose inspiration draws rather heavily and transparent on Bernard Herrmann’s plush themes for The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). After the main titles, we encounter Dr. Cal Meacham aboard a Lockheed T-33 Shooting Star jet, en route to his laboratory. However, what is supposed to be a routine flight, quickly turns into a moment of peril as both engines inexplicably fail. Meacham, however, is spared from crashing by an ominous green glowing tractor beam. Arriving at his lab unharmed, Meachum discovers that his requisition for electronic condensers has been altered, with substituted parts and an instructional manual explaining how to build an ‘interocitor’ – an infinitely more complex device. And, while neither Meacham nor his assistant, Joe Wilson (Robert Nichols) have ever even heard of an interocitor – much less, what it does - nor are they able to track down the source of the request to build one now, they nevertheless, and almost immediately, invest in its construction. Upon completion, the pair are visited by a mysterious, high-foreheaded man named Exeter, who appears on the interocitor’s triangular transmission screen to congratulate Meacham on having passed his test. Indeed, Meachum will be a valuable asset – or perhaps, ‘cog’ is more befitting - in Exeter's as yet undisclosed research project. Again, naïve passion for the work precedes Meachum’s common sense. So, he boards an unmanned, computer-controlled Douglas C-47 on this first length of his journey, landing at an undisclosed location somewhere in Georgia.  There, he finds himself among an international group of leading scientific minds, culled by Exeter, including his old flame, Dr. Ruth Adams. Meachum is confused by Ruth’s failure to recognize him. As time wears on, he grows even more suspicious of the odd-looking Exeter and his equally as bizarre assistant, Brack (Lance Fuller) who is overseeing their top-secret research.

Having tired of this secrecy, and fearing some sinister plot afoot, Meachum convinces Ruth, and another scientist, Steve Carlson (Russell Johnson, more famously known as ‘the professor’ from Gilligan’s Island) they must leave the research facility at once and warn the U.S. government about the project. Alas, in plotting their escape by car, the getaway vehicle is attacked with the same strange green tractor beam that previously saved Meachum’s plane from crashing. Carlson, who has taken off without his cohorts, is incinerated in a hellish explosion.  Escaping in a Stinson 108 light aircraft, Meachum and Ruth observe as the secret facility and all its inhabitants are destroyed. Moments later, their aircraft is rendered powerless and drawn up into a waiting flying saucer by the same green beam of light. Taken aboard the craft, Meachum and Ruth are reunited with Exeter who calmly explains that he and his men are from the planet Metaluna, presently locked in an intergalactic struggle for survival against the neighboring Zagons. So far, Exeter has been able to defend his tiny planet against this formidable foe, employing a device requiring vast amounts of uranium to fuel its protective force field. To this end, Exeter enlisted humans in a last-ditch effort to unlock the secrets of converting raw lead into uranium. Alas, time has run out. So, Exeter is taking his Earthlings back to Metaluna. Powerless to prevent the journey, Meachum and Ruth are sealed into protective cylinders, placing them in a hyper sleep for the duration of the trip.

Alas, by the time they arrive, Metaluna has entered the final stages of a losing battle against the Zagon starships, hurling meteors into the atmosphere. The defensive ‘ionization layer’ has failed and all hope seems to be lost. Metaluna’s supreme ruler, the Monitor (Douglas Spencer), reveals to all that the Metalunans plan to take over the Earth. He also insists Meacham and Ruth be subjected to the Thought Transference Chamber to subjugate their free will. As Exeter knows this to be an immoral mind warp, he helps Meacham and Ruth escape. In reply, Meachum and Ruth elect to take Exeter back with them to Earth. However, Exeter is badly injured by one of the Zagon mutants. Boarding the saucer in haste, the trio observes as Metaluna is turned into a lifeless radioactive sun. Preparing for hyper sleep, Meachum and Ruth suddenly become aware the Zagon mutant has also stowed away. Releasing Ruth from her protective cylinder, the mutant tries to attack her, but dies as a result of the pressure differences on the journey back to Earth. Re-entering the Earth's atmosphere, Exeter sends Meachum and Ruth ahead in their aircraft, declining their invitation to re-join them. As Exeter is dying, he banks his saucer over the ocean. It is engulfed in a hellish fireball and crashes into the water.

Fancifully relying on pulp fiction and comic book fantasy, This Island Earth could hardly be considered ‘the supreme excitement’ its producer, William Alland had hoped it to be. And yet, the picture exceeds our low expectations as just another ‘typical’ Saturday matinee yarn of fluff and nonsense. The screenplay is uneven, favoring unsustainable and flatly staged vignettes. But This Island Earth does not come apart at the seams as one might expect. The special effects – while state of the art in their own time – today, lend a warm and fuzzy feeling of quaintness for that pie-eyed optimism that preceded the space race; the future, mis-perceived in a sort of colorful, ultra-moderne style. There is, alas, no substance behind any of the central performances, the leaden ‘romance’ between Reason’s hulking and raven-haired stud and the sultry, but otherwise lifeless Domergue, leaving much to be desired. In hindsight, it remains a genuine shame Alland was not successful at convincing the powers at Universal to invest more to expand the last act of the movie, driven by its inventive creature make-ups and use of breathtaking mattes and visual effects.  Again, these do not hold up under today’s scrutiny. But they do work spectacularly well for the time in which they were conceived, and, if unconvincing in their artifice now, are nevertheless, still owed our admiration as impressively staged for maximum effect. If Alland, in his own lifetime, would forever lament the fact his vision for the picture remained unfulfilled – even hampered by studio shortsightedness – if there is ‘another world’ beyond this one, I have no doubt William Alland is ‘up there’ and looking down on the longevity his sci-classic cult classic has wrought since, perhaps with a soft spot of bewilderment for its endurance some 70+ years into the future.

Shout!/Scream Factory’s new Blu-ray is a startling departure from virtually all the previous home video incarnations available. For starters, Universal has gone back to original archived elements, realigning the Technicolor layers for a razor-sharp, crisp reproduction with bold, rich and vivid colors that, at times, appear almost hyper-unrealistic (even for Technicolor). As This Island Earth was released at the cusp of the widescreen revolution, and shot, ostensibly with a standard Academy ratio in mind, though released in some theatrical venues in a matted faux widescreen, Shout! gives us two ways to view the picture, in 1.85:1 and 1.37:1 – two separate transfers, housed on one dual-layered disc. The widescreen is favored here with an audio commentary. Again, advertised as a new 4K scan, what’s here offers deeper black levels and more fully saturated colors. Audio is another treat. Not only do we get a DTS 2.0 remaster, but also a restored 3.0 Perspecta Stereo sound mix that reveals some genuinely impressive and atmospheric sound reproduction.  

For those unaware, Perspecta was a directionalized sound system, more cheaply recorded and reproduced than traditional 6-track magnetic stereophonic soundtracks. It also, for rather obvious reasons, did not yield the same rich separations and/or sound reproductions, because it did not employ discretely recorded audio signals. While true stereophonic sound carried discrete channels in synchronization, Perspecta merely panned a mono mix across 3-channels, thus, limiting its use to isolated dialogue and/or sound effects. However, because it saved both time and money, MGM and Paramount embraced its use, particularly the latter, who found it especially useful on VistaVision pictures as this ‘motion picture high-fidelity’ widescreen process provided no room for a 6-track option.  Virtually all the studios used Perspecta at one time or another, until it eventually fell out of favor in 1958.  Extras are plentiful, beginning with Robert Skotak’s informative and thorough audio commentary (widescreen version only) and a ½ hr. interview with historian, David Schecter. The other winner here is the nearly hour-long ‘making of’ documentary that culls together perspectives from various noteworthy sci-fi movie critics and historians, along with vintage reproductions of interviews from long-deceased cast and crew. We also get a badly worn theatrical trailer. Bottom line: This Island Earth is a cult classic. This Blu-ray rectifies the sins inherent in the old Euro-Blu-ray releases. Highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

5+