Starman, meet Satan

Two new reviews, one of which is freakin' epic.

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Attack From Space

Grade: D

Starman takes on the Sapphirians in this turgid, incoherent, and (yes) draggy third entry in the series. Absolutely absurd fighting sequences -- reminiscent of a barroom brawl at the Cirque du Soleil afterparty -- are good for a few laughs, but after the tenth minute or so the humor wears thin, and there's really nothing else going. Still love that opening sequence, though.

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The Nightmare Never Ends (aka Satan's Supper, Cataclysm, and possibly Shiver)

Objective Grade: F
Make-Fun-Of-It-With-Your-Friends Grade: We want to say "A fuckin' plus", but it's really "A fuckin' minus". (Which, hey, is still an A.)

THE MOST COMPLETELY TARDIGRADED MOVIE WE HAVE EVER SEEN.

Seriously, we're not kidding. It's almost impossible to do justice to this mind-bogglingly incoherent, incompetent, incontinent trainwreck of a movie. The bald dude from Night Court (plus magnificent hairpiece) is a Nobel-Prize-winning author whose latest book proclaims the death of God. Naturally, this catches the interest of Satan, a light-in-his-loafers feyboy who apparently likes to pick up chicks at discos and show 'em his hairy legs hooves. Night Court dude soon ends up in trouble. Meanwhile, dude's wife -- a devout Catholic and accomplished surgeon (!) -- is having nightmares about Nazis, and Chef Boyardee is kickin' it in their driveway for some reason.

Forget the plot, though. And forget the horrendous editing, the phoned-in performances by Moll and others, the pompous dialogue and illogical plot. What matters in this movie is Faith Clift, who plays Claire (dude's wife), in what may be the worst performance by anyone, in anything, ever.

It's almost impossible to find words to do justice to this woman's acting. Imagine if a brain-trauma patient -- say, someone out of an Oliver Sacks book, with cognitive and emotional deficits -- were forced to work at a telemarketing job she neither understands nor enjoys. Imagine the furrowed brow, the halting diction, the flat affect with a vague undertone of resentment. That's how Faith Clift reads this script -- like she doesn't want to be there, but can't quite remember how she got there, and doesn't really know what else she'd be doing anyway.

Also, there's this one scene where Chef Boyardee (aka Papini) is roaming through the woods, looking for Satan or something, and the wind is howling and the trees are all, uh, linear, and it's as if Peter Jackson decided to remake that first Ringwraith scene (right after the "shortcut to mushrooms" bit, you know?) with himself as Frodo. Except instead of a hot chick using water to save him from the Ringwraith, the Ringwraith turns out to be a hot chick (in her undies!) who uses water to kill him. Go figure. Still, that Papini guy really does look like Peter Jackson. It's all uncanny and shit.