FAQ

Yes, the pre-credit sequences are cheerfully confusing: are all of those (obviously different) space vehicles supposed to be the same specific craft, the one our heroes use to slip the surly bonds of earth? Well, yeah! After the audience applies a little suspension of disbelief, of course. We are actually subjected to a total of three distinct spacecraft candidates: two of them actual (realized through stock footage), along with one virtual entry (a model). And presumably it takes a bigger budget than Queen Of Outer Space had to get your model to match your stock footage. So just pretend harder! For the technically minded, I have tried to sort out what's what in the following:

1. Fat Man or Little Boy? - the briefest chunk of stock footage depicts a gray trusswork gantry with workers servicing a squat white missile. Knowledgeable enthusiasts will recognize that old Z-movie standby, the ever-popular V-2. The famous "vengeance weapon" was diverted to the U. S. after WW2 to provide yeoman service to the fledgling American space program. The one in this excerpt, identified by tailfin number TF-5, was launched on September 19, 1952 from the White Sands Missile Range on an atmospheric research mission. While undistorted pictures typically show a fairly sleek appearance for the German missile, here it looks oddly short and fat: likely we are seeing the effects of grafting some non-anamorphic footage into a widescreen movie.

2. Got The World On My Shoulders - the much longer stock sequences show a gleaming silvery missile poised freestanding on its launch pad, followed by shots of engine ignition, and then liftoff. Again fans will have no difficulty identifying an early version of the aptly-named Atlas, here in the ICBM phase of its career. Atlas would later become a preeminent NASA workhorse with a long record of impressive accomplishments, including lofting the first Americans into orbit. Backgrounds visible in the long shots clearly establish the location as the famed Missile Row area of Cape Canaveral, so it's a safe bet that we are seeing one of the early Atlas-specific launch complexes (which would be LC 11 through LC 14, for those who care). Note that the Atlas shots are juxtaposed with those of Larry (Patrick Waltz) kissing his girl goodbye, so we are apparently to believe that the lovers are standing right at the base of the launch pad. In fact, they would be much too close for any real-world safety considerations. Hey, guys! Take a tip from Professor Konrad (Paul Birch): "I've seen enough of these rockets blow up in my time!"

3. Not Your Fathers Oldsmobile - hood ornament, that is. Although there is some degree of resemblance to the "Rocket 88" hood decoration of the early fifties, the handsome finned silver spaceship prop is, in fact, just that: a model, created for filming purposes. For clarity I'll reference it as the Model, since it wasn't made exclusively for this flick: it has a considerable history, with reported sightings even in non sci-fi (Paris Playboys (1954), 1954). But the most relevant prior usage occurs in another Allied Artists space opera, World Without End (1956) (1956), where both the outer space sequence and the snowdrift landing sequence feature the Model. More than that, it's pretty much the identical footage as used in QOOS. Way to conserve those film elements, AA!

And it seems like the spaceship interior shots are also intended to reflect the configuration of the Model (as opposed to being the inside of a V-2 or an Atlas). The interior set is long, semi-cylindrical, and equipped with a circular window; all approximately mimicking the Model's outward appearance. Interestingly, although the exterior shot modelwork is the same in both WWE and QOOS, the spaceship interiors are somewhat different. In QOOS there's a single porthole shown in the cabin, while WWE features a three porthole design (which does not conform to the exterior appearance of the Model). In both films the cabins are equipped with the same hilariously inappropriate reclining, swiveling lounge chairs: but WWE has four, while in QOOS there are only three (Professor Konrad gets to rack out in something like a hospital cot). A mixture of same and different prevails throughout the furnishings: the handy "miles-per-second" indicator shows up in both flicks, while only WWE has the wacky pivoting-periscope-thingee.

Another workout for our Model was Flight to Mars (1951) (1951); at least the space flight sequences for this Monogram effort don't duplicate the Allied Artists' footage. (But didn't AA start out as Monogram anyway?) And FTM's interior set is completely different. But the landing still involved crashing into snow: couldn't somebody invent retro rockets? Or parachutes? Or something?

Of course you have! It isn't only theme, storyline, sets, props, and the aforementioned modelwork that get reused in QOOS. The astronauts' uniforms are unmistakably borrowed from Forbidden Planet (1956), and beautiful Motiya (Lisa Davis) is clearly wearing one of Anne Francis' outfits from the same film. The Venusian sidearms also appear to be sourced from FP. Too bad there were no Oscar categories for Cinematic Recycling: QOOS would have cleaned house.

Who needs that fancy Buck Rogers junk, when you can equip your space explorers with the latest in earth weapons technology? Which in this case is easy to do: just glom some 19th century Model C96 "broomhandle" Mauser automatic pistols from a WWI prop box and have a grip slather them with gold metalflake paint. Talk about updating a classic!

And it's an outrage! How could they not acknowledge the era's most glamorous model / starlet / actress / pinup / ahh, singer / tabloid celebrity / future Scopitone star, the only woman who could be both Mrs. Flatt and Mrs. Superman, Joe McDoakes' very own Dream Girl (So You Think the Grass Is Greener (1956)), the unsurpassable Joi Lansing? Of course, there's a distinct tacked-on quality to her one scene: the launch pad sequence where her unnamed character is kissing Larry goodbye. The lack of relevance and the absence of other cast scream "post-production" and/or "padding" - maybe Joi was brought in to sub for someone unavailable, too late for credit inclusion.

But all such details are as dross. Joi is dazzling here: stunningly blonde, ravishingly lipsticked, a regular Z-movie Virginia Mayo. She's wrapped in something like gauzy green tulle, tastefully set off with RED SPANGLED GLOVES. (That's right, accessories that would be too gaudy for a stripper in the 1950s have apparently become haute couture in fashion-advanced 1985). She oozes simpering concern for Larry ("What if you get lost up there? Or blow up, or something?"). Sure, there were plenty of other Monroe imitators in her day, but Joi radiated a uniquely calibrated mixture of kitsch and glamour that was hers alone.

Then the climactic moment: the Atlas engine ignites and vomits out a city block-sized volume of exhaust vapor, with Joi right next to the pad! Any lesser frail would have hitched up her skirts and scampered to the nearest cocktail lounge. But not our Joi! She stands her ground, for literally several seconds, shielding herself from rocket blast with those too-fabulous gloves. Then, as the mighty Atlas arcs into the sky and a studio fan dishevels her coif into a blonde halo, and with her spangled arms flung heavenward in a timeless gesture of resignation and loss, she blows her spacefarer a final kiss, her magnificent bosom heaving tempestuously (or her tempestuous bosom heaving magnificently, I forget which).

It's got to be the most breastacular farewell in filmed science fiction, and only a man of stone could remain unmoved. Probably the reader will be unsurprised to learn that ever since seeing Joi in this one scene, your FAQmeister has belonged to her, body and soul. But what about the nudnik all this emoting is actually for - namely, schmucko Larry? Does he even begin to appreciate Joi's unstinting devotion, her selfless, childlike fealty? Like heck he does! Barely a reel after this we see him slobbering over some Venusian tart. Inconstancy, thy name is astronaut ...

Amazingly, QOOS is not the only classic fifties Z-movie where Joi gets left behind in the opening scenes. In 1959's The Atomic Submarine (1959), Arthur Franz ditches her to go fight flying saucers underwater (note: not a typo - that's actually what happens!).

One final point for the committed Joi fancier: beyond her film and TV appearances, every true Joi completist must also screen her Scopitone shorts, especially the jaw-dropping Web Of Love. Mere words can't quite convey the loopiness of this bizarre confection, but here's a helpful comparison: in terms of taste, restraint, and class, it makes QOOS look like Citizen Kane. If you can imagine that.

Ah, yes, the WORD: that brusque word of command delivered with stern authority, over and over again, by the Venusian guard chicks (or, as per the end credits, the "Posse"). Well, to my ear it sounds more or less like "bacheeno", or "bageeno" (or maybe Italianate: "bagino"). Probably an exact translation is not possible, but context suggests an approximate meaning of: "Get moving, male vermin, or be vaporized by our death rays!" This establishes Venusian as a member of that wonderful family of cinematic foreign languages with (mostly) one-word vocabularies (the astute will recall a similar gimmick in old Tarzan movies). But wait, I'm wrong: one of the "Posse" can also be heard to expostulate something like "Gahdi!" So now we're stuck with trying to figure out the meaning of two Venusian words - Gahdi help us!

It's pretty straightforward: Queen Yllana merely shrieks "You will die! But first you will scream for mercy when we force the truth from you!" And wham, bam, thank you ma'am, you're Mirandized!

Make no mistake: not since the Queen of Hearts ordered the decapitation of Alice has there been a fictional monarch who knows how to put the "summary" in "summary justice" like Yllana. Merciless, impervious to reason, her voice always edged with a raspy note of hysteria - she's like all your ex-wives rolled into one! Laurie Mitchell's realization of this campy paranoiac is pitch-perfect, and accomplished pretty much exclusively by superior voice control and projection. Of necessity, since we don't see the Queen's face - except during the gruesome unmasking scene ("Men did this to me!").

As it should, it's from a perennial favorite: the Polovetsian Dances sequence from the opera Prince Igor by Borodin. Themes from this selection have exerted considerable influence on popular music; the song Stranger In Paradise being one well-known derivation.

There's just one teensy, weensy problem here - you're in the wrong movie. Although blessed with manifold attractions, QOOS is unsullied by terpsichorean antics. (Say WHAT? - ed.) I mean, it ain't got dancin'. You are doubtless thinking of Fire Maidens of Outer Space (1956) - technically a different flick, but actually another movie just like this movie and all the other movies that are just like this movie. That is, flicks which chart the tribulations of heroic male explorers as they confront all-babe civilizations. Which admittedly is a deathless theme, but it does invoke a certain sameness that can sometimes make it difficult to distinguish QOOS from FMFOS, or Cat-Women of the Moon (1953), or Missile to the Moon (1958), or any of their closely related high-concept brethren. It's déjà vu all over again!

But this highlights a perfectly valid quandary: if a movie like Missile to the Moon, clearly made on a budget of about eleven dollars, can have dancing girls (okay, dancing girl, singular), how come the lavishly cinemascoped and technicolored QOOS can't? Couldn't they have scrounged up a couple leotard-clad B-girls from some Hollywood bistro to schlep out a few interpretive steps? I mean, how much could that have cost? I think the filmmakers can be justifiably chastised here for failing to uphold the standards of the genre ...

If you're asking whether or not the celebrated playwright/screenwriter is the scribe principally responsible for the narrative content of QOOS, the honest answer would have to be a firm ... "undetermined". Of course, the sheer schlock factor of QOOS argues against any sort of highbrow authorship. On the commentary track of the Warner Brothers' DVD, film historian Tom Weaver discusses the issue of Hecht's contribution in considerable detail, but ambiguity in the surviving sources seems to preclude an authoritative conclusion. The poster/title credit of "From A Story By Ben Hecht" is probably a considerable overstatement, while the IMDB credit of "Outline" (with the actual writing credit going to Charles Beaumont) seems about right.

In your FAQmeister's humble opinion, the most likely genesis for QOOS is a derivative one: the aforementioned World Without End, also by Allied Artists. Capitalizing on their previous effort's successful formula, I can imagine a strategy session that went something like this: "Keep the spaceship, keep the spider attack, lose the native men, add more babes". This thesis will surprise no one who's seen both movies, though of course the parallels are not exact. The post-apocalyptic setting of WWE imposes a rather more serious tone, but the underlying theme of virile earth explorers rescuing a sterile society of yummy amazons still obtains. To be sure, the lost civilization featured in WWE does include men, but they're wizened ciphers who don't matter, while the women are young, desirable, and all too ready to rock 'n roll.

Huh???!!! (She's asking: Don't this flick dump on chicks? - ed.) This movie sexist? No way! It's pro-woman, if anything. And the more of a babe that woman is, well, so much the better! That's just natural! OK, so there's a few minor thematic vagaries that sorta suggest feminine incompetence ("How could a bunch of women invent a gizmo like that?") or imply that dolls on their own would secretly yearn for the completion only men can provide ("Vimmen can't be happy vizout Men!").

But consider this: who's the hero in QOOS (okay, heroine)? Some guy? Heck no! It's a woman, and a career woman at that: the alluring Talleah (Zsa Zsa Gabor), chief scientist of her whole planet! And she's no token techno-babe either: in her very first scene we see her hypoing plants in her laboratory, just like a real scientist. And how can we be sure that she's the top chick in this henhouse? It's obvious! She's the most man-hungry, and she looks the hottest in a slit skirt!

Conversely, who's the bad guy (alright, gal)? Again, it's a woman: the evil Queen Yllana. And how do we know she's evil? Easy! She's ugly, and she hates men! See the logic?

Let there be no doubt: this film celebrates female empowerment. From a male chauvinist perspective, that is.

Good question. And you didn't even mention the lipstick, mascara, pancake, seamless hose, etc., etc. Hey, a chick wants to look good, okay? Ya never know when some hunky earth spaceniks are gonna crash-land on your planet. A girl's gotta be ready to compete! It's a jungle out there! And speaking of jungle, could earth-designed high heels negotiate the treacherous muck of a Venusian bog? I don't think so! But the "Posse" is able to stomp through the swamp in their native stiletto pumps with no more trouble than if they were strolling around on a soundstage. So even in the absence of men, our heroines developed a fashion technology that's not to be sneered at ...

Oh, but you DID see it. One of the many charms of QOOS is a production design responsible for creating what may be the least-intimidating-looking planet-destroying superweapon ever presented on the silver screen: the magnificently chintzy Beta Disintegrator. I myself in my Amazon review said that it looked like a "pasteboard privy", and other reviewers characterized it similarly. But the Earth visitors, perhaps overawed by the threatening polka-dot motif, are plenty impressed: "I must say this baby looks like it can do it!" observes Larry. To which the mystified audience can only ask: Do what?

Men? What men? Oh, you mean the Venusian men. Well, they're, uh ... they're, like, all on jury duty, or something! Yeah, that's it, jury duty! No wonder they ain't around!

Okay, okay ... so my little dodge is lame. But the official explanation is pretty tedious, so ... you've been warned! Apparently, the Venusians previously fought a devastating war against the planet "Mordo" (phonetic: or is she saying "Mordor"? Too bad it's not "Mongo"!) After just barely defeating the Mordo-ese, blame for the war's destruction falls on the men of Venus - and the women revolt, under the leadership of Yllana. The insurrection results in the decimation of the male population; survivors who are useful to Yllana ("scientists, mathematicians") are exiled to the satellite "Tiros", which serves as a prison colony. But Venus doesnt have any moon, I hear you say? Wrong! It is actually provided with "several ..." according to Professor Konrad, "but you never see them, because of the dense cloud cover" (well, then, how does he know about them?).

QOOS hardly presents the first account of gender war - that is, of a literal "war between the sexes" - in either science fiction, or mainstream literature. Your FAQmeister will therefore not reference any of the many possible examples, except for one that is forgotten today. From 1952 to 1963, the American reading public would have been able to revel in the consequences of planetary gender conflict via their own newspapers - in the form of the Twin Earths comic strip, syndicated by United Features. The premise of this pioneering sci-fi daily (it's the print equivalent of a Z-movie!) hypothesizes the existence of an earth-like planet sharing Earth's orbit but undetectably situated directly opposite the Sun. (This would make it a Counter-Earth; or, if you're hip to orbital dynamics, a Lagrange L3 object). The civilization of the Twin Earth, or Terra, is somewhat more advanced technologically: all those flying saucers sighted in the fifties turn out to be Terran scout ships! But like Venus in QOOS, on Terra the women are in charge - with the male minority confined to government reservations. Now, it must be acknowledged that the female-dominated societies depicted in both Twin Earths and QOOS are predictably ad hoc, low-culture creations (although the comic is a bit more thoughtful in this respect). Regardless, both manage to project, unintentionally or not, an off-kilter but detectably liberationist vibe. For example: all the authority figures - cops, generals, politicians, scientists, etc. - are women. Camp exploitation, or insidious, below-the-radar feminist propaganda? You decide!