John M. Jackson
jojacks2[at]vt.edu
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The Shocking Facts About Grave Robbers from Outer Space
Has any film ever suffered such a tragic misinterpretation as Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space? It has been called the worst movie of all time--a victim of poor acting, amateurish special effects, and disjointed continuity. While Plan 9 has been pigeon-holed as a low budget science-fiction horror cult film, Wood's opus is, in fact, a low budget science-fiction horror cult film with a message. In this 1956 film, Ed Wood--so often vilified as the penultimate schlock filmmaker--rises above the trappings of his genre to confront us with a very real danger.
In Plan 9 from Outer Space, Wood presents for our consideration the horrific consequences of an earth overrun by an army of three zombies, brought to a simulated life by the electrode guns of a superior race of extraterrestials. Has any other director dared to approach this controversial subject matter with such candor? We have yet to see Spielberg, Scorcese, or Stone address this topic. Are they intimidated? Are they afraid of the truth?
Plan 9 is more than just a warning against extraterrestial invasion, however. Wood's film is also a scathing expose of the seamy underside of the American middle class. The film's human characters are all deeply entrenched in a bland, static existence from which they long to escape, but to which they remain forever bound.
Jeff Trent (Gregory Walcott) is a typical airline pilot who lives with his typical wife in a typical suburban home next to a typical cemetery full of typical ghouls. Walcott is excellent in his role as Trent, a former marine who must compete with his own pillow for his wife's attention. Just below this surface illusion of normalcy, however, lies Trent's darker side. He is a headstrong young man, power-hungry and vengeful. Wood never allows us to see Trent's hidden aspects; instead, he merely hints at Trent's repressed, sinister urges. Jeff Trent's small black case is especially mystifying. Does it contain shrunken heads? Sacrificial chickens? Diseased body parts?
Trent's best friend and co-pilot is Danny (David De Maring), who has problems of his own. De Maring masterfully portrays the wayward son of a middle class gone awry. Most of his time is spent in an vain attempt to seduce flight attendants. Even more important to Danny, however, is "that Albuquerque ball"--obvious street jargon for some type of illegal substance, judging from Danny's lethargic reactions to the most incredible events. (Wood adds a twist by placing Danny in the co-pilot's seat; Danny likes to fly, in more than the literal sense. In fact, one could construe the film's disjointed nature as the product of one of Danny's drug-induced hallucinations.
The local law enforcement officers represent the inability of our traditional values to cope with such devisive issues as re-animated corpses. Stumbling through an intricate maze of aliens and zombies, Lieutenant Harper (Duke Moore) announces, "One thing's for sure: Inspector Clay is dead... murdered... and somebody's responsible." Elsewhere, Harper uses his handgun's barrel to scratch his neck and waves it nonchalantly at his men. Harper's misuse of the gun is often mocked by critics as a director's gaff. In reality, Harper's incompetence is Wood's warning against investing great power in the hands of fools. Brilliant, no?
Truly, it would require a race of incredible super-beings to release these three humans from their former trappings and deliver them to an existence as formidible zombies. After building our suspense during the film's first half, Wood finally allows us to see this ancient race of omnipotent extraterrestials. Surely there has never been a screen moment more terrifying than when we learn that the aliens all resemble Bob Newhart (even the women). Can there be any hope for middle-class America in the face of such intimidating power?
The aliens' plan for humankind's destruction never reaches fruition, however; the extraterrestials prove to be even more incompetent than their human counterparts. Wood effectively symbolizes the aliens' low standards by furnishing their hubcap-cum-spacecraft with tacky kitchen furniture and by clothing them shabbily. Plan nine, like the eight others before it, has failed. Have the aliens been defeated, though, or is this merely a minor setback in their plan? We must forever be on our guard; perhaps they will return with a tenth--and even more fiendishly diabolical--plan. As the narrator warns us in his closing monologue, "God help us in the future."