Metaluna Mutant

I know I saw the film This Island Earth in a theater, probably the Bay Theater in National City, but since it came out in 1955, it must have been re-released sometime prior to 1963. It's a very good film, one of my favorites, despite the rather simplistic plot that, in the end, goes the only place it could go--nowhere but where fate dictated. Unlike other films of the period, it's not as dated as it might be, possibly because it's set almost entirely within a secluded conclave of scientists and on the planet Metaluna. Neither setting provides interaction with the then-current US society, the main reasons films lose relevance as audiences change. For example, Godzilla (1954) is still a relevant film (I don't think the modern Godzillas from Legendary will fare as well) because the focus is on the monster not the people, whereas The Giant Gila Monster (1959) is a dated rock-and-roll curiosity piece with a big lizard thrown in, though I still find it enjoyable, the b&w version more than the colorized bastardization.

The film is taken from the novel This Island Earth by Raymond F. Jones. Though the book was published in 1952 by early SF publisher Shasta, it actually appeared in SF pulp magazine Thrilling Wonder Stories as three separate novelettes: "The Alien Machine" (June 1949), "The Shroud of Secrecy" (December 1949) and "The Greater Conflict" (February 1950). Though the film and the book follow the same plotline from the beginning, with physicist Cal Meacham receiving a strange machine to build, followed by an invitation  to a secret scientific society and a ride in a robot-plane, they diverge widely at that point. The book continues almost as a mystery novel as the purpose of the society is explored and we find a great interstellar war is raging around the Earth, that the Llannans (as the aliens are called in the book) as using Earth just as US and Japanese forces used small Pacific islands during WW2...the inhabitants could not understand the nature of the conflict, but they could be used to build things, airfields in the case of the island natives, "interociter" machines in the case of the shanghaied scientists. It explains the title of the book, an allusion omitted from the film.

The Dec 1949 issue of TWS
"The Shroud of Secrecy,"
2nd in Jones' trilogy

Shasta's first edition of the novel, a very
minimalist design; the re-issue used the movie
poster as a basis for the art. 

The film, which was released as a double-feature with ("sigh") Abbott & Costello Meet the Mummy did fairly well at the box office, earning $1,700,000, and good reviews from critics who praised the literate script and special effects. While the film still holds a favorable rating with fans and film historians, it took an undeserved hit when it was lampooned in Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie. Well, I never cared that much for the series anyway The book was mostly well-received, though some reviewers (notably Kirkus) thought there were too many loose ends left hanging and too much "labor baiting" by the author. The film is available on DVD/Blue Ray, though you can catch is on broadcast TV sometimes or watch it on YouTube. The book has been out of print for a long time, but is now available, like a lot of older writings, as an e-book. A print version of the story was included in the 1994 anthology Reel Futures published by Barnes & Noble Books, a very interesting collection I should highlight in the near future.

Metaluna Mutant Model from Atlantis

So, you ask, why bring up a 70-year-old film (and book) that most people have not seen or read, other than because I have odd tastes. Well, one of my favorite aspects of the film (other than seeing an airplane in flight snatched by a flying saucer...true facts!) is the Mutant engineered by the Metalunans (as the aliens are called in the film) as slave labor. It was designed by makeup artist Bud Westmore (uncle of Michael Westmore of Star Trek fame). Even today, it remains an effective design, though the final project did not quite match Westmore's original concept...the limitations of the human body are so annoying. Originally, the Mutant's legs were supposed to match the arms.

Back of the box showing finished model

Atlantis Toy & Model Company, one of the few US model companies remaining, issued a 1/12 scale model of the Mutant from the film. Yes, I had to get it. If there are any model builders, or former ones, this might strike a familiar note. That's because the Aurora Model Company was going to issue Mr Mutant as part of their "Famous Monsters of Film" series, joining Frankenstein, the Mummy and the Wolfman. The dies were cut, but, unfortunately, it didn't happen, and the company went under shortly afterward. From this point on, it's just going to be pictures from my model build, in which I took some liberties with color (because I could) and added a lobby card to replace the b&w graphic provided for the clapboard, so if you're not interested in models, thanks for reading this far. I really appreciate your interest and support. Do find time to watch the film or read the book.

The base: ivory top, dark blue background, with gold
atomic sigil; lobby card (remember those?) added by me.

Close up of lobby card.

"It's alive! It's alive!"

For the trousers, I used Vallejo Acrylic's Wood & Leather
Paint Set to create "light leather," a mix of Dark Sand/Japanese
Uniform with washes of Flat Earth and Smoke, then Dark Sand 
again for highlight. All painted areas were first covered with
Vallejo USN Ghost Grey Surface Primer.

The feet and "hands" are a slightly different color than the
body. I used a 60/40 mix of Metallic Turquoise and Metallic
Arctic Blue from Folkart. Claws are Vallejo Bonewhite.

A face only Mutant Mom could love.

I don't know why he has a "space bra."

Yes, the brain was bluish, but it 
shouted "Green!" at me. The Mutant
made me do it. That's my story.

To be honest, I don't understand the purpose of
the "hump" or how it goes over the "space bra."
Is it armor or organic? It looks both.

Another view of the trousers. It was the first
time I've used such a complex layering on a model.

The Mutant measures 7" (7.5" with the base). At
1:12 scale, one inch equals one foot.

The Metaluna Mutant has been a favorite of fans for years. I think it may be because he fulfills so many genre tropes of the times: bug-eyed monster (BEM), exposed big brain, popping veins, claws, etc. All he needs is a scantily clad space lass on his arm and he could have graced the cover of Thrilling Wonder Stories. As it is, he'll have to be satisfied with the cover of Famous Monsters of Filmland, that venerable chronicle of weird and wonderful movies founded by James Warren (Creepy, Vampirella, etc) and Forrest J. Akerman (AKA "The Akermonster" and "Mr Science Fiction."

 

"Since our daughter is no longer with us..."

I have never hidden the fact that a good portion of my life has been wasted watching old cheesy films. Most of that time has, of course, been spent in front of the tv set, starting with a small b&w set that I had to sit close to ("Get back from the tv," Mom would say. "You'll ruin your eyes!"). Today, however, I have a large color set that allows me to sit across the room and watch in relative comfort. On the new set, I can also stream digital content, allowing me to watch more old films than ever, so, yes, still a lot of b&w cheese. In addition to the wandering wasteland of television, I also spent a fair amount of time in theaters.

The first theater I recall is the Bay Theater in National City. It was built in 1941 and had a distinctive tower with BAY written down it. It was neon-lit and visible from all the roads around. I recall many times seeing that tower from the back seat of my father's or grandfather's car and wishing I were there. It really didn't matter to me what was playing as long as I was there, preferably with a box of popcorn, a cup of soda and a tube of Flicks. We lived in the 1100 block of East 17th Street (unpaved then), a little over a mile from the theater. It was too far away for me to walk alone (so my mother claimed), but I frequently walked down to it with the Eleazar kids from across the street...yes, I know, but it was a different world back then and no one called CPS just because kids were being kids. In addition to the films of the time (e.g., Forbidden Planet and Earth vs The Flying Saucers), I also saw newsreels, cartoons and serials, such as Zombies of the Stratosphere ("Isn't that Leonard Nimoy as the Martian?" asks a dubbed voice in J-Men Forever; "I don't know," replies another dubbed voice, "I can't see his ears."). Then we moved to Chula Vista. The Bay Theater later came to an ignominious end -- first it became a Spanish church, then high winds blew the tower down. I don't know if one had anything to do with the other, but at least it was something that wasn't my fault...for once.

When we moved to Chula Vista, I discovered the local theater, the Vogue, was even father away than the Bay. But, it was still a different world, so off I went. I didn't have older kids to walk with me anymore, but I figured what my mother didn't know couldn't hurt me. Besides, I was nine by then, almost an adult. Yes, I lived dangerously...I even drank water straight out of the hose. You might say I grew up in Chula Vista, but I also grew up in the Vogue Theatre (note the classy English spelling) watching every film my parents wouldn't take me to see...they were never big movie goers, but I never held that against them, much.

The Vogue in better days

When the Wife and I had kids, I looked forward to not going to the cinema alone...the Wife would go from time to time, but she did not revel in the experience as I did. Too many people, she claimed. Especially too many unruly kids. I have to admit, she had a point there. When I went to the movies as a kid, I was never unruly. No, really! It would have been a shock to both my mother and my teachers had they seen how well behaved I was when the lights went down, the curtains parted and the film began. But I was there for the film, and once the film started, I was a part of it, totally absorbed.

Unfortunately, our son was never really a devoted film goer. Oh, he like going to the movies, all right, but it had to be a film he was interested in, such as Star Wars. Our daughter (the Kidette), however, had tastes that were as catholic as mine. Well, let's just say she didn't complain no matter what film I dragged her to. Likewise, I can't count the number of chick-flicks and teen-angst movies she took me to. And, please, don't ask me how many times I saw Center Stage. But it was all enjoyable, every single film. Mostly, though, because the Kidette was with me.

One of our traditions was to get a tub of popcorn and a large soda. The Vogue had a policy that if you brought back the receipt you got a free refill. Great. Whether it was a double feature or a triple, we had more than enough to last us to the final end credits of the final movie, and we always stayed for the last credit. Unfortunately, time passed and our daughter moved. I was back to solitary viewings. 

It should have occurred to me that I could not possibly eat two full tubs of buttered popcorn, but it didn't. The first time I went without the Kidette, I bought a tub and was more than stuffed by the time I got to the end of it. What to do? My Protestant ethic screamed at the prospect of that free refill going to waste. I then noticed a mom and her kids sitting in front of me. They had no popcorn.

Me: Pardon me ma'am, but would you and your kids like a free popcorn?
Her: Uh...
Me: I have a receipt for a tub of popcorn, and the theater gives free refills.
Her: Uh...well...
Me: My daughter and I used to share a tub at the movies, but she's no longer with us, and I can't eat the whole thing myself.
Her: Oh, you poor man. I am so sorry. Thank you very much.

After she took the receipt and scurried off to get the free popcorn, I realized how she must have interpreted what I said. I changed seats. "Dad!" my daughter scolded. "You made her think I was dead. I only moved out. I didn't die!" Well, really, is my fault she took it that way? I didn't say anything that wasn't true...that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The Vogue in badder days

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, and just as that applies to little boys and dragons, so it also applies to movie theaters. The Vogue opened in the winter of 1945 and closed its doors in the summer of 2006, after showing a triple-feature of Fast & Furious: Tokyo Drift, Over the Hedge and Poseidon. I really didn't want to tell the Kidette about the fate of our beloved theater. So when she came down for a visit I put her in the car and drove down Third Avenue. She didn't cry...well, not much.

The Vogue's Facebook page - link below

Sometimes the dead return, or so Stephen King and HP Lovecraft tell us, and that may be the fate of the Vogue. According to its Facebook page, the Vogue is being renovated as an entertainment, event and dining/drinking experience. They also claim they are going to maintain the historic exterior. I hope that's true, but, of course, it will never be the same. Still, if I look at the facade and see it restored to its former glory, I will fondly relive better days. If all that comes to pass, I will probably go to the proposed outdoor dining area, have a beer and raise a glass to toast my my movie memories.