Robot Holocaust

This movie made me cringe - and afterwords it left me feeling violated and empty inside. The script could have been made by a group of 11-yearolds, the acting was horrible. The FX were , on the other hand, very entertaining , but not in the intended way - the wall of sock-puppet "sewer worms" and the Spider leg made us burst out in laughter.

This movie is hard to watch even for die-hard fans of b-movies, and although I am glad that I made it though this piece of oozing garbage I will make damn sure never to do it again.

Favourite character: Garth the macho Conan-type barbarian :D

What a despairing film. Dress actors in furry rags, place in suburban wasteland, set cameras rolling and hope for the best. One can only imagine e the thanks the cast gave when their characters were killed off by sockpuppets, thus sparing them further humiliation in this dullfest. This rivals Monster a go-go as the best cure for insomnia ever made. Oh God - how can I fill up 10 lines explaining how overwhelmingly bored everybody looks in this movie? Whiney crappy plastic bungling robot who annoys everybody both on and off screen, Giant spider reduced to a single giant hairy leg pulled by string, actors desperately trying not to look at the camera while mumbling off dialogs...

All right, there's no way to sugarcoat this. The plot was ridiculous, the premise was ridiculous, the acting was unconscionable, the effects were laughable and all of the outdoor scenes appear to have been filmed in New York's Central Park. That having been said, there was something about this movie that I couldn't walk away from. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was the evil super-vixen or the amazon wenches.

Anyway I'm not one to sit on the margins and criticise without pointing out a few redeeming qualities, so here they are.

A violent off-shoot of the women's lib movement is portrayed in a wilderness setting (central park, of course), and all of the masochistic young men out there will be very impressed. Furthermore, some of the scenes in which certain characters lose consciousness are amusingly dramatic (you'll note that I write dramatic, rather than convincing).

All I can say is that some people like B movies and I'm one of them. If you're one of them too, then give it a go. Cheers, Mr Kincaid. This is one for the ages.

Angelika Jager, eh? What a woman! Alas, the sad fact is young Angelika is the only reason this film is worth even half-watching – and even then only if you're a heterosexual male – because everything else about this film is total trash.

Angelika plays Valaria, the sidekick of the Dark One, a deep disembodied voice who issues veiled – and not so veiled – threats to his lovely assistant as the cartoon power station in which he resides is visited by a young hero called Neo who is – well, to be honest I can't quite recall why he's there. Wants to free humankind from the Dark One's tyrannical grip, I think; something like that, anyway. The fact is, the rank amateurishness of all aspects of this film quickly had me sinking into a kind of stupor, from which I would only emerge when the lovely Angelika was on screen.

Now I can't claim that the lovely Angelika is exactly an actress of quality – in fact the truth is she could easily be out-acted by a toothpick – but she possesses the kind of luminous beauty that makes such matters irrelevant. Anyway, it would be impossible to possess such beauty and acting talent – it just wouldn't be fair. Angelika has a sulky, sensuous mouth and a sexy French accent identical to Valerie Kaprisky's in Jim McBride's 1983 remake of Breathless and, although she can't act for toffee, there's something Bergmanesque (Ingrid, not Ingmar) about her that is quite enchanting.

Not that her lack of acting talent singles her out for criticism in this cast of nobodies. Everybody looks as if they're envisaging in their mind the words as they appeared in their script, and very carefully repeating each one, completely forgetting to add any kind of emotion into their lines. The guy who plays the heroine's father has only one expression throughout, regardless of whether he's watching two gladiators scrapping, describing his boffo invention, facing the terror of coming face to face with The Dark One, or being slowly absorbed by the aforementioned Dark One – who actually looks like a slimy green egg – so that only his living head remains. That expression is one of expressionless boredom – an image that will probably be mirrored by anyone who sits through this rubbish.

This gets one mark for Angelika's sultry looks and no other reason

Director Tim Kincaid made other entertaining and campy films in NYC during the 80s like BREEDERS and BAD GIRLS DORMITORY (a favorite) but neither of those contain a performance as memorably bad as Angelika Jager. Speaking English with a heavy (French?) accent and trying to be menacing while wearing a long feather boa in her hair, Jager gives a performance of transcendant awfulness that should be treasured by bad cinema addicts the world over. Just try to keep a straight face as Jager tries to actually act while trying to remember her lines as us in the audience try to even understand the nonsensical dialogue through her heavy accent. Amazing!