The story of “Plan 9” is an absolute, incomprehensible mess that throws together as much pop culture paranoia and 1950s sci-fi conventions as possible without connecting any of them into a sensible mass. Why do the aliens, who speak perfect English, send encoded messages to Earth? Why, if they come in peace and want to save Earth from itself, do they breed homicidal zombies? Why is the movie introduced by a psychic, when it has nothing at all to do with telekinesis or ESP? Why the hell do people call flying saucers “cigar-shaped” when they are so clearly not cigar-shaped at all, but saucer-shaped? The answer to these questions, and more, are because Wood wanted to pack the movie with as many sensational, tabloid-style fantasies and “buzzwords” as possible, regardless of how contradictory their various lore might be. While the recent film “Underworld” uses “vampires and werewolves in the same movie!” as its gimmick, Wood, like a child wanting to play with all his toys at once, was first with “aliens, psychics, vampires, and zombies in the same movie!” Oh yeah, and there’s kind of a vampire, too.
Even more “straight from today’s headlines!” sensationalism can be found in Wood’s cross-dressing drama “Glen or Glenda?” Glen is not a homosexual, we are told again and again (and again and again), although “Glen or Glenda?” contains one of the most unintentionally funny movie homosexuals I’ve ever seen: shifty-eyed, suspicious, and clearly “up to no good.” Wood himself was a real-life transvestite (but, like Glen, not a homosexual), and the movie can be seen as somewhat autobiographical. The story of “G or G” is essentially only twenty-five minutes long and repeated three times, using three different sets of narrators: a police detective, a mad scientist who contributes absolutely nothing (Bela Lugosi), and an omniscient voice that sounds like it would be more at home in an informational elementary school filmstrip about zinc or the solar system.
Glen (Ed Wood), who is not a homosexual, is struggling with his secret life, and the danger of his girlfriend finding out looms over him. This leads, not only to a maze of unnecessary narration, stock footage, and hilarious shots of Wood longing after dresses in store windows, to an overlong dream sequence in which Glen confronts the woman he loves. And he does love women, because he is not a homosexual. In the same way that “Plan 9” never has a consistent theme—are the aliens good or bad?—“G or G” is without a consistent tone, bouncing back between being a horror movie and a PBS special.
Even more memorable than the ineptness of these pictures is their heavy-handedness. Eros, the chief alien in “Plan 9” (played by Dudley Manlove, who in his medieval tunic single-handed and enthusiastically carries that piece of crap), is always calling humans who do not believe in extra-terrestrials “stupid.” Not “dumb,” “ignorant,” or “fearful,” but just “stupid.” In encoded messages or to their faces, it doesn’t matter. “How can you be stupid?” “Don’t you know how stupid that is?” The head-patting, “it’s okay” attitude toward cross-dressing used throughout “Glen or Glenda?” is just as loopy.
The failing of Wood and his films is entirely of the head, and not of the heart. You hear the words “worst,” “terrible,” and “awful” attached to them all the time, but never “hate.” No one is as venomous toward “Plan 9” as they can be toward “Bad Boys 2,” “Battlefield Earth,” “Gigli,” or the average slasher movie. The Worst Director in history is without cynicism, irony, or contempt for his audience. Wood is at least filled with wonder when it comes to the filmmaking process and the ideas he wants to convey, even though he’s not smart enough to convey more than an iota of that awe.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that Wood was something of a hero of mine. He certainly gets an A for effort. Anyone can love what he’s good at, but there’s something so brave about loving what you can’t do. “Plan 9” and “Glen or Glenda?” defy traditional criticism. They have enormous camp value and a strange appeal to even the most discriminating film lover. Wood’s movies are hopelessly inept and incompetent, but they have a place in the canon, albeit a lowly one (below Tim Burton’s sweet “Ed Wood”). They let us know how badly things can go wrong, and how passion is not always enough. Every potential filmmaker should see one or two Wood movies at least once, just like every potential rock musician should watch “This Is Spinal Tap.” Oh yes, and Glen is not a homosexual.
Plan 9 From Outer Space (August 6, 2006 addendum) – If you ever get a chance to see a midnight showing of “Plan 9” brought to you by Legend Films, don’t pass it up. It’s one of those rare opportunities when I’m willing to encourage lax theater etiquette. It’s colorized, which is fake and vivid; it’s a process that has no business being applied to “Casablanca” or “It’s a Wonderful Life” but nevertheless has a certain lurid, comic book beauty when used appropriately on the big screen. Avoid colorized VHS like the plague though. I remember a Nirvana music video that was shot by Anton Corbijn on black-and-white film stock, which he subsequently colorized to astonishing, otherworldly effect. Legend Films puts “Plan 9” after previews for colorized versions of “Reefer Madness,” “Night of the Living Dead,” and “Carnival of Souls,” and an explanation of what happened to the first eight plans from outer space. I would never seek to replace or obscure the original black-and-white “Carnival of Souls,” but the big-screen preview was dripping with rich, Hammer hues, and I could appreciate the artistry used by the colorist in picking in choosing which colors to exaggerate; it’s not a million miles away from “Sin City.” A few little visual gags have digitally added to “Plan 9,” and it’s followed by “Deleted Scenes” which highlight the consequences of bad handgun usage.
Finished November 17, 2003
Copyright © 2003 Friday & Saturday Night
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