Strange Invaders

Strange Invaders (1983) supposes that aliens landed in the small town of Centerville, Illinois in 1958, replaced the entire population, and has been living in a sort of zoological experiment ever since. Its residents are the cinematic descendents of Jack Finney's Body Snatchers, covering up the conspiracy at all costs and sucking the life out of interlopers like fleshy shrinky-dinks. The parallels with alien invasion films of the '50s are purposefully obvious. But director Michael Laughlin's is more than homage; it's as bizarre and left-of-center as the disguised residents of Centerville themselves.

When his ex-wife disappears after a trip back to her mysterious hometown, Charles Bigelow (Paul Le Mat) drives from his New York apartment to the heartland of America to get the scoop. He's scared off by a welcoming committee that includes several unfriendly locals (including b-movie veteran Kenneth Tobey) and a bug-eyed alien that shoots lightning from its elongated fingers!

Back in NYC, he enlists the help of the government (Louise Fletcher as a tight-lipped federal agent) and a gossip-rag reporter (Nancy Allen) who eventually agrees that there's something fishy going on. After Charles' daughter is kidnapped, the rush is on to get back to Centerville before her mother - and the mothership - make their escape back to the home planet.

Despite lifting most of its story from classic sci-fi clichés, there's nothing straightforward about Strange Invaders. There are several awkward edits, some questionable acting and a disjointed feel to the script. But, intentional or not, it creates a very disorienting effect of the viewer and - much like Laughlin's previous film, Strange Behavior - feels like it was transmitted from another planet by a civilization that picked up on our culture from radio waves and old satellites. The movie is just off!

Luckily, for most horror and sci-fi fans, that's a glowing recommendation. The script by Bill Condon (who moved on to Gods and Monsters, Chicago and the last two Twilight movies) gets some things spectacularly right. The aliens' trip to Manhattan to cover up their tracks dressed in full '50s apparel ("Avon calling!") is straight out of Corman quickies like Not of This Earth (1957). And the makeup effects by Jim Cummins (The Thing), particularly during the face-shredding finale, are beautifully icky. But it's Laughlin's supersaturated landscapes mixed with gorgeous matte paintings of enormous spaceships hovering over pastoral fields that linger the longest; like covers from Amazing Stories painted on film.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition includes a spot-on hi-def transfer, isolated score track, trailers, liner notes and a nicely edited audio commentary from Laughlin and Condon.