Track of the Moon Beast (1972)





Hello all, welcome to my night of queasiness. I'm writing this in a chintzy hotel room in Toledo, Ohio, squeezed into the world's smallest double room with a guy from the Angola store who I've never met before (thanks, random room assignments!). I just got out of a boring regional market meeting and I've got nothing to do (it's Toledo, seriously), so I might as well check out Track of the Moon Beast, which I downloaded (perfectly legally!) to my laptop months ago and nearly forgot about. Now, after watching this turgid pile of cinematic poo, I wish I had joined my roommate Steve in his quest to find an affordable prostitute within walking distance of the Holiday Inn. A case of pus-oozing Chlamydia from Tiffany and her K-Mart fishnet stockings would probably be more agreeable than watching this movie again.

Track of the Moon Beast done messed me up. I sat for an hour trying to come up with a reason not to type on this abomination to my eyeballs, but could find nothing better to do (again, Toledo) and I've been slacking on reviewing lately so I really need to get something done. I looked over the list of actors to try and find some inspiration, but almost to a one they are one-shot performers (when Track of the Moon Beast is the crowning achievement of your thespian career, it's time to hang it up and go back to the night shift down at the Safeway). The plot itself is recycled from the typical 1960s teen monster movie genre, with very little new to offer, and the only really exceptional thing about this movie is how soul-rapingly bad it is in every way, from dialogue to sets to costumes to acting to execution and directing to hairstyles and fashions to an ADR loop that often seems like the work of one single man doing different voices (women in a falsetto and men with a sock over his mouth). Truly, truly bad stuff.

BTW, most sites put the date of this movie at 1976, but I've learned that it was filmed in 1972, but didn't find a distributor until four years later. I debated which date to put, but then realized that none of the seven people who actually read my reviews (thanks Pam, Katie, Mike, StickMan, my mom, I-Hate-You Girl, and Anonymous Poster Guy!) would care in the least what date I put.

On to the show...

First let's meet our Designated Hero, a strapping young lad named Paul Carlson, played by some rube with the amazingly Yuppie/football team captain name of Chase Cordell. Mr. Cordell's "acting" style can best be described as "that of a corpse" or "zombie-like", and I'm almost 100% certain that he was legally deceased at the time of filming. Though, frankly, physically he looks amazing for having been dead for some time, and medical science in the 1970s (unbeknownst to me) had truly advanced to jet pack/flying car levels.


Paul (from later, getting quality screen captures off this dog movie was exceedingly difficult).

Track of the Moon Beast takes place in contemporary (early '70s) New Mexico. Paul is a geologist and part-time archeologist, fresh out of the nearby Unnamed Random State College U. and enjoying being young and dead. As we open, he's out in the rocky hills of the Land of Enchantment doing field work (seriously, he looks great with his shirt off and all buff like Hugh Jackman, perhaps he's a reanimated corpse zombie, or maybe a revenant, or perhaps Dean Cain brought his worm-ridden body back to life like he did in Bride of Re-Animator).


Paul out in the rocks.

Paul meets an old friend of his from college, a middle-aged Navaho Indian fellow named Johnny Longbow, who was Paul's anthropology professor. Imdb.com tells me that the supporting character of Longbow is played by a Hughes AH-64D Apache Longbow attack helicopter. A strange choice in casting, yes, but also a bold move reminiscent of Petrie's casting of Sally Field in Sybil or maybe the scrawny Keaton as the middle Batman...no, just kidding, actually Longbow is played by some unknown Italian guy, because, you know, all minorities look alike and all.


Longbow (center).

There are two Pointlessly Chipper College Kids along with Longbow, undergrads of his who have virtually no role in moving the plot along. I kept expecting these two dolts to show up later in the movie, doing something worthwhile to justify the time and effort spent on introducing them and their giggling, fornicating, annoying ways. On a totally unrelated side note, I have an anthro degree myself, and I never saw a girl that pretty in my degree program.


Longbow pats the pretty Co-ed on the head, which is nice.

Since he's the hero, Paul needs a love interest, so enter Kathy Nolan, a photographer friend of Longbow's who came all the way in from New York City (home of bad salsa) to shoot pictures of Native Americans "in the field" and grubby anthro students digging in the dirt. In another surprise casting choice, imdb.com informs me that the lead romantic role of Kathy Nolan is played by Leigh Drake, who looks like she's 65 years old in some scenes (especially close-ups in the daylight). Mrs. Drake's resume is virtually nonexistent, and after seeing her sledghammer-and-sandpaper style of acting in Track of the Moon Beast, I can see why. While it certainly wouldn't be my first choice in casting a romantic lead (an up-an-coming hottie like Judy Geeson or Claudine Longet comes to mind immediately) I guess she does bring a certain charm and understated sensuality to the role, along with a working knowledge of the art deco movement of the 1920s of her youth (because, ya know, she's freakin' OLD!).


Kathy, she smiles more than this picture would indicate. [Editor Pam: Imdb says she was born in Minneapolis but doesn't give her date of birth, which is odd. Looking at her closely, I think she's not actually that old, just, well, kind of ugly from certain angles as a matter of fact, from most angles. Her nose is big and there's something mannish about the lower part of her face.]

Despite these handicaps (he being dead and she being near dead), the on-camera spark between Paul and Kathy is virtually instantaneous, and for a while I thought they had a prior connection (maybe she baby sat for him, or at least sat outside his preschool in her Chevy van and watched him intently). This romance is obviously forced, the two characters thrown into each other's arms with all the sexual chemistry of yogurt. It's also a bit icky as no one wants to see a torrid love scene between an Undead manchild and a peroxided grandmother, but it was the early '70s so perhaps tastes were different back then.


Love?

They go back to Longbow's house where his astonishingly short wife and (multiple undetermined) kids live (what kind of woman marries a man with Anton Chigurh hair?). The homestead looks like a set for a bad Indian movie, with an adobe-esque house surrounded by clucking chickens and black-haired shoeless kids running around chasing each other with sticks. But, hey, they must be happy, right? Because they are "one with nature" and "in tune with the harmony of the earth spirit" or maybe just "repressed by the white man and held in a spiral of poverty, discrimination and financial dependency upon the very people who have their boots on their throats"?


Hanging with the locals.

Longbow's skill set is quite varied in this movie, making him by far the most interesting character. Not only can he track and strike multiple ground targets with his revolutionary Integrated Helmet And Display Sight System (AH-64D ref, just ignore it), but he can also make a wicked corn bean and onion soup from an old family recipe. In fact, the movie takes three minutes to detail the recipe (must have chopped those onions with his rotor blades). Much has been made of his rambling non-sequitur list of ingredients across the internet, but it bears repeating here, if just for the sake of completeness.


"Chicken, corn, green peppers, chili, onions..."

Ok, on to the plot. Earlier a newscaster reported that a meteor (flag! Asteroid?) was on a collision course with the moon. The rock hits the moon, digging a chunk out of it and shattered bits fly towards the earth (pulled down by gravity, don'tcha know). Smartyhead scientists claim that the vast majority of the moon rock meteors will burn up harmlessly in the atmosphere, creating a little more than a pretty shower of light streaks. A few, however, might get through...


Newscaster dude.

Late on the night of the meteor shower, Paul and Kathy go out into the scrub brush to watch the show (after he receives his daily injection of the Blood of Virgins and she finishes watching a rerun of Nash Bridges and calls her grandkids in Silver Springs). Kathy has squeezed into a denim minidress that would make a Reno hooker blush and Paul seems to be wearing a pair of US Army helicopter pilot coveralls.


Out for a date.

As they watch, a small meteor comes zooming in and hits Paul!!! Well, really just grazes the side of his head before embedding itself in the ground in a smoldering pile of dirt. Paul shakes off the extraterrestrial rock to the forehead, which leaves little more than an artful trickle of blood. The hand-sized chunk of space rock has also cooled to the point where Paul can pick it up within seconds. Am I wrong, but wouldn't this be the remains of a much larger meteor after most of it was burned up in the fall?


Paul picks up the chunk of rock.

Paul takes Kathy back to his place to "apply some antiseptic to his wound" wink wink. No one is home as his mom is in Europe, so he takes her into his room and shows her his lizard, which is so big it scares her. And I mean that literally, he has a bigass pet iguana in a cage named Ty. Kathy says with bitter sarcasm, "I think you've spent a lot of your life being lonely." But that still doesn't stop them from playing hide the weasel as the iguana watches, tongue flicking with voyeuristic delight.


Ty the Lizard (short for Tyrannosaurus).

The next day, Paul and Longbow go to a science museum in the city (just assumed to be Albuquerque). There's an authentic moon rock on display here, and as Paul approaches it he gets an instant migraine explosion. Instead of being worried about a sudden and unexplained painful blackout and resultant blurred vision, which could be a sign of all sorts of nasty medical problems from a brain tumor to over-masturbation, Paul just says he needs "some fresh air" and the matter is promptly dropped. Kathy, who is really looking like one of Bob Barker's early prize-holding girls here, just stands there all pensive and concerned-looking but does nothing.


Paul is hurting (check the 1970s lime green camel toe outfit to the right).

That night we join a local band playing at a nightclub, as the camera pans lovingly up to the Levi's-encased gyrating crotchmonster of the Dan Fogarty-esque lead singer as he strums a tune about California ladies and funky barrooms. As this song plays, we see Kathy and Longbow take Paul back to his room to rest up. Kathy has changed into a knitted dress that barely covers her asscheeks, which is kinda hot in a cougar-at-the-prom sort of way (though she still reeks of Ponds night cream and cubed Salisbury steak, a heady concoction that makes me look at my great-aunt Martha in a whole new, and unsettling, way).


Singer.

Left alone in his room wearing unbuttoned pastel blue pajamas, Paul begins to writhe and sweat as his pet lizard looks on. The stock footage full moon is out, the green filter is over the camera lens, and the spooky electronic organ music on the soundtrack follows Paul around as he stumbles about his room rubbing his rippling abs and panting heavily.


Paul in distress.

We cut from that out to an old man walking home in the moonlight, drunk after a too-long night of bowling and carousing with the guys from the used car lot. His chunky wife locks him out and while he's grousing on the patio, he's attacked and killed by an unseen (to us) grunting and growling beastie. The wife dies of a heart attack when she opens the door to see her slashed and mangled husband.


If I had to come home to this every night, I might choose death as well.

The next morning, the local law enforcement comes out to the scene of the gruesome killing. Let's meet our film's Authority Figure, Captain McCabe, a local police chief who happens (by incredible coincidence) to be bff's with Longbow. Captain McCabe is played by some puffy portly man, who looks strikingly like a 19th century Victorian-era British detective, sans uniform and musket, of course. Perhaps he really is an English policeman, on some sort of secret mission for Her Majesty to uncover anti-Anglo terrorist plots in the American movie industry (a legendary hotbed of sedition and treason, just ask the HUAC).


Captain McCabe.

Captain McCabe calls in Longbow as the native man is an "expert in animal attacks". Longbow suggests a mountain lion, but the cop shows him a disturbing bloody claw mark on the wall and a telltale monster paw print in the soft ground. From this one print, Captain McCabe determines that the killer was "some thing" that was seven-feet tall. Longbow says that he has seen a print like this before, a million-year old casting in a museum of antiquity, which they go to.


The handprint on the wall.

The expert at the museum is shown the casting from the crime scene and agrees that it's from "some sort of reptile, some sort of very, very large lizard". They banter about what it might be, discounting a teleporting Indonesian Komodo dragon, and settling on some vaguely saurian lizardman thingie without batting an eye. On an unrelated note, in the "expert's" office there are two sheets of paper taped up to the wall in-frame, one is a crude drawing of a T-Rex standing up tall in the standard pre-Jurassic Park style, and the other paper just says "First Grade" on it in block letters. I don't know why I even bother noticing these things, it's not like you care. This movie burns like a urinary tract infection and I can't in good faith permit anyone who isn't a terminal cancer patient to watch it.


The expert.

That over, we go out to the Navaho reservation to see Paul and Kathy taking pictures of some kids playing with bows and arrows. Paul seems in perfect health and Kathy is poured into a pair of pink butt-hugging hot pants like she's some sort of 1980s Croatian drug dealer's girlfriend in a Miami Vice episode. And do Native kids actually practice with bows anymore or is this just something Hollywood hammers into us?


Kathy and her baby doll outfit.

Longbow also comes by and lets us know that he's an archery expert himself (conference archery champ in college!). To impress the lady, Longbow shoots an ear of corn out of Paul's hand from thirty yards away (though, of course, it's less impressive when you realize that Paul is already dead and so an errant arrow through the skull wouldn't do much more than require some Bond-o and a reshoot). Paul gets a head ache and they call it a day.


Paul does his circus sideshow act for Kathy.

Kathy drives Paul home in her diarrhea-yellow rattletrap Plymouth Valiant and puts him to bed. She then mills around his parents' house, poking through his mom's things like the worst girlfriend ever until finally settling down on the couch with a book. That night the full moon is out (it's apparently always a full moon in New Mexico, or they could only find one stock footage clip), and Paul once again gets the itch to stumble around panting in a daze while sweat flows off him like Victoria Falls. He exits the house without the sleeping Kathy seeing him and wanders off into the woods, surely up to no good.


Worst girlfriend ever.

We then get a quick scene of the monster shredding a tent full of undocumented immigrant farm workers, ripping off arms and biting faces in a campfire-lit rampage of blood and tears. Clearly, this is a poignant reminder of the hardships of the fine folks from Guatemala and Chiapas who risk their lives and freedom to cross the border to pick our tomatoes and mow our lawns. Or maybe it was just an excuse to mangle some old men in flannel shirts eating tamales and listening to conjunto music.


"Rah! This wouldn't happen if we had a border fence!"

We next see Paul back home in the morning, waking up from his uncomfortable dream out in the yard. He's wearing his pajama bottoms...ok, you know what, you all know by now that Paul is turning into the monster when the moon is out, so I'll just drop the suspense and commence the nitpicking. Much like Bruce Banner, Paul always has his shorts on in the morning, even though the monster he turns into every night is clearly not wearing clothes. Maybe I want to see some nekkid man-butt, or maybe I just need to get out more.


Paul out by the pool, in his magical expanding shorts.

Now one of the mortally wounded farmers managed to tell the police about a giant man-like lizard before expiring, so Captain McCabe and Longbow suspect that there's something weird going on. They banter about the possibility of a hold-out dinosaur up in the hills (*snort*, yeah sure), without once mentioning that Longbow's hair looks like Jackie Chan circa 1983. They also talk about Paul's odd behavior (which doesn't seem to really be relevant to anything), and suspect that he got "a concussion" that night during the meteor shower (you know, when that falling chunk of rock smacked into his skull at 25,000mph and barely moved a single honeyed lock of hair out of place). They all agree to take him into the city to a hospital for some tests. Longbow comes to tell Paul about his concern (and not to gaze at his shirtless abs) and also borrows that meteor chunk that grazed him, for "scientific curiosity".


Longbow has awesome hair.

As promised, the next day Longbow takes Paul down to Saint Joseph's hospital and some lab-coated guys run a million tests on him. In the most informal and HIPA-ignoring public discussion between doctors and the patient and random strangers walking by, we hear that the x-rays show a "small particle of matter" imbedded in Paul's brain. They decide to keep him overnight for more tests, and hint that they might have to "do something about it, surgically".


Paul's x-rays.

Captain McCabe and Longbow go to Longbow's house and look at some old 400-year old deer hide paintings of an old Navaho legend. It shows a man hit by a "light from the sky" which turns him into a "demon-lizard monster". The other (non-monster) Indians try and put it down but their "arrows had no effect on it". The legend says then that the monster died anyway and was "consumed by an unknown fire". The pictures look like cartoons, by the way, but maybe they are just copies crudely done by Longbow's three-year old son. Captain McCabe is impressed, but nonchalant, after all he fought the savage Zulus at the Battle of Islandlwana...


The old legends.

Longbow and Captain McCabe go down to that rock museum in Albuquerque we saw before (roadtrip!). Longbow holds Paul's fragment up near the moon rock and a, er...a bolt-thingie of white-ish light-sorta-substance, uh, like, you know, kind of connects them (whatever, this movie sucks ass). Longbow, who has clearly been reading more than just textbooks on Native American shamanism and maize cooking, says, with a straight face no less, "some unusual element in this fragment that synchronizes with that larger mass over there, and it produces some kind of energy reaction" (right). Captain McCabe connects the dots in an obvious analogy so clear that it should be on a kid's placemat at Chucky Cheese, and even, for the first time in the movie, uses the dreaded word "werewolf". I say dreaded because you can't name me one single decent werewolf movie put out by Hollywood in the last hundred years, with the shouldn't-need-to-even-say exception of Teen Wolf (screw you, Philistines) and maybe Ginger Snaps (guilty pleasure, Mimi Rogers will marry me one day). Longbow now knows it's Paul who's the beast.


The rock does tricks.

They tell Paul the bad news and he's not happy about it, but understands what he himself has suspected. Longbow and Captain McCabe decide to wait until night and see what happens, so they tie Paul to the hospital bed and wait outside (risk takers!). Hey, isn't Longbow supposed to be teaching a summer class? What about those two dorky handsy college kids?


Telling Paul.

Indeed, the sun goes down and the moon comes up and Paul turns into the beast. But he's not strong enough to break his bonds and in the morning is back to normal (well, as normal as he can be). The "creature effects" were supposedly the work of famed monster-maker Rick Baker (he of six Oscars and an occasional ponytail), which is possible, I guess, his career hadn't really picked up steam in 1972. I'm sure he looks back in shame at this movie... So, here we learn that the whole monster-transformation doesn't require line-of-sight as the "moon beams" clearly are able to travel through concrete (huh?). If so, what's the limit of penetration? How far down or behind how thick a wall of what substance can Paul avoid the effects? Why can't the beams travel through the earth's core? [Editor Pam: Sadly, so much of the science of werewolves is unknown...]


Paul becoming death.

Now they have had at least eight hours to examine Paul, run tests, plus call in every expert/media in America for what is surely the story of the century. Imagine the research grants, the book deals, the Ed Bradley interviews, the crappy b-movies that could be made if they take this public. But, apparently, Longbow and Captain McCabe just sit there all night long with this beast tied to the bed and do nothing. They eventually do call in a pair of "experts" who are personal friends of Longbow, as apparently the rest of the world's scientific establishment would have absolutely zero interest in a man turning into a moon beast. The experts (both of whom look like Bill Walton in his Portland days) check Paul out and say that "the particle has disintegrated and energy factors are spreading throughout his brain". They are stumped and suggest running more tests, but it will take time, but not enough time for Paul. The "situation will be atomically unstable", they say with quaking voices, and Paul might explode at any minute! Just like the legendary monster that was consumed by fire, remember? So, clearly this has all happened before.


One of the experts (the cuter one, actually).

Kathy comes to see Paul and they share some tears. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to die looking like a man, not like a monster." Paul says, realizing finally that he's done for. Determined to save those around him, he escapes the hospital with Kathy's reluctant help (he guilts her with that old "do it because we love each other" line that has gotten a lot of teenage girls pregnant and teenage boys in juvie). He jumps on a stolen Yamaha motorbike and zooms off, helmet on to mask a much shorter stuntman.


Zoom!

Paul goes to a local gunshop to try and buy a nice over-under Remington shotgun (presumably to shoot himself, though that seems pointlessly redundant considering that Paul is already, you know, dead and stuff). Before money can change hands, however, he's scared off by a news report on the radio about him (by which we learn he's 24-years old, six-foot and 160 pounds) and he rides off in a hurry. Much ado is made later about how Paul, being such an upstanding and noble dude, would choose to kill himself rather than endanger innocent people with his nightly rampages. All well and good, but there are a million easier and quicker ways to kill yourself, especially if you are currently riding a motorcycle on busy city streets. Also, and I didn't catch this until the second viewing, he specifically asks the clerk for a "box of shells", which makes it sounds like he wants the shotgun for something other than a barrel sandwich.


Paul trying to buy a gun.

Back at the police station, there's great concern over a killer/mutant/extraterrestrial/ridiculous monster on the loose. Kathy is questioned by Captain McCabe but she says nothing, even though she guesses Paul is going to his "favorite mountain ridge top" where he "always felt comfortable" (my happy place is the Yellow Sub in Lawrence, Kansas, but that's not important right now). Captain McCabe (who has to be excited about not having to wear an itchy wool serge waist-length dress uniform and knee-high boots, because, you know, he's a Victorian detective and all. Am I the only one paying attention anymore? Why do I bother writing these obscure jokes if no one is even trying with me?!?) is suspicious of her denials but lets it go. Kathy's motivation is pure love (aww...), but she's still complicit in any future deaths caused by Paul's monster-rages, I say.


Kathy talks to the cops.

Paul is indeed going there, and up the side of the mountain he rides, racing against the falling sun to get to an isolated spot before his moonlit monster-turning begins. But the road is rough and unimproved and in a tight corner Paul lays down his bike in a cloud of dust and gravel, and he has to limp off on foot (though he didn't really try and field-fix the bike, just sorta kicked it and wandered off). The cops find the abandoned bike (which had been lying there in the middle of the road all day without some punk emo kid stealing it) and "surround the mountain" (if such a thing is even physically possible). Choosing the sticky way of old-enough-to-be-your-mom love over the path of monster caution and police protection, Kathy goes up to the mountain herself to search for Paul. Remarkably, she finds him with a pair of binos, crawling up the side of the hill in broad daylight in about five seconds (shaming the cops who have been looking for hours without any luck).


Kathy looks for her man (cool car).

Kathy chases Paul (using the mind-bending talus-scrabbling skills of a Sherpa guide to catch up to him halfway up the hillside) and they talk. They babble about love and loss and stuff. I sorta quit watching here, I was distracted by some I-wish-I-were-black white guy in the hotel's parking lot blasting his stereo at an aftermarket-boosted volume surely designed specifically to bring down the walls of Jericho, the paper-thin glass panes of my window shaking in rhythm with the quaking in my organs as NWA's Easy-E reminded me to "Fuck da police!" and threatened to awake the space shuttle astronauts from their celestial slumber. When I finally turned my attention back to Track of the Moon Beast, it was dark and I think Kathy and Paul might have talked about the Modernist quest for the nature of man's inner peace when confronted by demons from their own emotional wells, or they might just have had sex.


?

Night falls and Paul turns into the moon beast (surprise!), with some terribly unconvincing time-lapse camera trick showing his hand mutating into a furry, clawed paw. Attempting to flee, Kathy gets her foot caught in some rocks and is trapped (hey, it's hard for an old woman to do her own stunts, don't let Lynda Carter tell you any different). The monster advances on her but passes up the easy kill for some reason (are we to believe that her plaintive cries to her former lover somehow managed to override his primordial bloodlust?).


Hard to see, but that's a claw.

Two cops on the road below open fire with rifles in the dark when they hear Kathy screaming. They seem to be shooting at random into the dark hills, in the general direction of the woman screaming for help, with high-velocity bullets. Does this strike anyone else as improper police procedure? The monster then, Ewok-like, manages to sneak up behind the armed and alerted policemen with ease and kill them! Uh, so far, whenever Paul became the beast it was shown as just a mindless, shambling killing machine, seemingly possessing no more complicated playbook than "KILL! And roar a lot." But here, in sneaking down the hill and creeping up behind the cops in their blindspot, the beast shows a degree of preplanning and forethought more akin to a human than a monster. But a scene or two later, it's back to just standing there roaring and waving its claws around in the middle of the road like a Doberman with rabies.


The beast kills the cops (lacking peripheral vision).

The monster is scared off by the arrival of Captain McCabe and Longbow, squealing up to the scene in cars with more cops. Kathy is saved, and her hair is still feathered nicely despite the trauma she's undergone tonight. No one seems too concerned about the two dead cops. Ah, off-tangent, but my roommate Steve just now returned. It's 3:27am and we both have to be at a 8am grocery food safety meeting (another reason why I hate retail management with the white hot passion of a thousand burning suns) and it looks like neither of us are going to be at our best tomorrow. On a more depressing note, Steve, judging from his disheveled appearance and his general stench of Johnny Walker and cheap Dollar Store perfume, just left the company of a woman of ill repute. I, on the other hand, have spend all evening and early morning watching Track of the Moon Beast and hunched over my laptop typing. I'll leave it up to the reader to decide who is the more pathetic. Anyway, Longbow reaches into his awesome Plymouth Satellite station wagon and pulls out his bow and quiver. It seems that he has figured out that the only way to stop Paul is to "speed up the energy process", whereby Longbow will cause Paul to explode internally by using a chunk of moon rock as an arrowhead. Kathy is not happy, which is understandable in a sense, but I question what woman would stay so damn loyal to a man who she just met a few days ago and has since proven himself to be a vicious cold-blooded murderer (albeit only when a slobbering, scaly, befanged monster). "Paul is not Paul anymore" Longbow says forcefully, ending any and all discussion on the matter.


Longbow's bow (which is indeed long).

Longbow shoots Paul, who is an easy target just standing there in the middle of the road not doing much but flailing his hands around. The moon rock reacts with Paul's internal rock fragment and he explodes in a flashy disco video effect as Kathy screams for her lost love. And...um, that's all. They just get in their cars and drive away. Ok. Sure.


Panic! At the Disco.


The end.

[Editor Pam: Nate's not kidding, this is a bad, bad BAD movie! Everything is terrible about it, and not in a fun way. It's not the sort of bad that an ultra-low-budget, made-for-undiscriminating-little-kids-so-couldn't-bothered-to-make-an-effort movie can be, it's a movie where everybody from the writers to the director to the actors to the film editor appears to have tried to do a good job but failed horribly because they were completely lacking in any talent. In twenty years, it might at least be of a little interest for its authentic depiction of 1972 in all its unvarnished ugliness, but until then, don't waste your time on it.]

Written in April 2009 by Nathan Decker and edited by Pam Burda.



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