Galactic Gigolo

It's hard to write anything about "Galactic Gigolo". I start writing this review while it is still playing to distract myself from it. It is sucking out my energy. My veins are starting to hurt.

The movie doesn't really have a story, but it's premise is about a talking piece of broccoli (a man wearing a broccoli suit) being turned into a balding schlub and sent to Earth to have sex. He has no problem whatsoever scoring with Earth women, not that the movie shows you that. In one scene he gives a press conference and demonstrates how he can change into a cat.

A group of rednecks, mafiosi and orthodox Jews apparently all live in the same house and take an interest in the alien.

There's a lot of hijinks. At least that's what I call it. Stuff going on that could be funny, I guess, in another movie made decades before this one when the jokes were fresh. You get the impression it's supposed to be funny because of the zany music. But it's just so boring. And tiring. Makes you feel tired, watching people running around and falling over. Especially when they're doing it for no discernible reason. People also get pies in the face.

Eoj, the broccoli man, is followed by a journalist. I can't keep this up. I can't write any more. There's nothing more to write anyway. This movie is making my skull feel fragile.

I can't believe this was made by the same guy who made Cemetery High. This movie is just hard to watch. I hated everyone and had a lot of trouble paying attention. The only interesting thing is that the set from the big shoot out in CH is in here.

My review was written in January 1988 after a screening at Cine 42 on Manhattan's 42nd St.

"Galactic Gigolo" is a home movie masquerading as a feature film. Lensed a year ago as "Club Earth", pic is an interminable attempt at tasteless comedy which proves to be unwatchable.

Carmine Capobianco, whose smug charm is eminently resistible, toplines (and like the rest of cast and crew, fills many different production capacities) as Eoj, a broccoli from Outer Space who wins on a quiz show a two-week vacation to Earth, i.e., Prospect, Connecticut. Pic consists of him using his hypnotic powers to go to bed with every woman in town, while two newshounds (Debi Thibeault and Frank Stewart) record his sexual escapades for the tabloids.

Idiotic subplots feature a mafia gang out to get Eoj and a family backwoods rednecks, who happen to be, yuk, yuk, Jewish. Would-be auteur Gorman Behard's mixture of bad puns, in-jokes, dumb name-dropping and failed slapstick is a chore to endure, especially given the backyard filming absence of production values. Pic's running gag that Elvis Presley (and his subsequent imitators) was a spaceman is about as funny as its rip-roaring potshots at Prospect, Connecticut.

I picked up this movie in the cult section of the video store because it had the same director, writer, and cast as the brilliant "Psychos in Love". But unlike PIL, this was just plain awful, lacking the humor, satire, and everything else that made PIL good. Avoid this at all costs, but check out Psychos in Love if you get a chance.

The people who made this movie previously made the cult movie "Psychos In Love", a movie that I found funny enough to justify buying it on DVD. So my expectations were pretty high when I put "Galactic Gigolo" in my DVD player. This effort does have a somewhat higher budget that "Psychos In Love" (there are a LOT more actors for one thing), and occasionally there is a sight gag, a one-liner, or some other attempt at humor that makes you smile. But otherwise, this movie is a complete failure. The movie feels like it was being made up as it goes along, with no proper story and character motivations that are murky. (The character of "Eoj", who should be the central figure, is actually kind of an afterthought frequently.) But the main reason why the movie fails is that it is extremely unfunny, using tired stereotypes, unimaginative gags, and feeling that people running around and screaming is hilarious. Skip this movie and rewatch "Psychos In Love" instead.