Nebo zovyot

BATTLE BEYOND THE SUN opens with a seemingly endless narrated segment, featuring an array of spaceship models. The basic plot involves a race to put together a mission to Mars.

Originally a Russian sci-fi epic, it was bought, Americanized, and sensationalized by none other than Roger Corman. In typical fashion, the story was condensed and new scenes were added in order to heighten the drama and thrills. Corman knew his audience, and that the unaltered film would never make any money at the drive-ins.

Admittedly, American audiences at the time of its release would probably have slept through much of it. Even in its truncated form it's pretty dull., in spite of the dramatic music. That is, until the forced satellite docking. Cue the rubber monsters!

So, another Soviet era space adventure is Corman-ated...

My giving this a score of 3 is NOT what I would give the original Soviet version of this film. It seems that American-International (a studio that specialized in ultra-low-budget fare in the 60s) bought this film and utterly destroyed it--slicing a two hour plus film into a 64 minute film! Plus, much of this 64 minutes was new material (such as the "monsters")--so you know that this film bears almost no similarity to the original. The original film appears to be a rather straight drama about the Soviet conquest of space--though I really am not sure what it was originally! For insight into the original film, read Steven Nyland's review--it was very helpful.

By the way, this was the third Soviet sci-film I've seen that American-International bought and then hacked apart to make a "new" film--standard practice to a company that was willing to put just about anything on the screen to make a buck--provided, of course, it didn't cost them much more than a buck in the first place!! This Americanized film was about two rival world powers (NOT the US and Soviets) trying to be the first to Mars. The tricky "bad guys" try but fail and the "good guys" rescue one of the idiot astronauts and then head to Mars. Unfortunately, they are temporarily stranded on a moon of Mars where they see some monsters (added by American-International) that are REAAAALLY cheesy and one does bear similarity to a certain part of a female's anatomy. Then, they are rescued--returning to Earth heroes.

The bottom line is that the film was butchered--turning an incredibly beautiful piece of art (for the time) being turned into a grade-C movie. Because of this, the Soviets really had a reason to hate America! I'm just shocked that the horrible job A-I did with this film didn't convince them to refuse to sell more films to these jerks! It's worth a look for a laugh, but the really bad moments that make you laugh are few and far between. So, the film is a dud--not bad enough to make it a must-see for bad movie buffs and too dopey to be taken seriously. I would really love to see this movie in its original form--it must have been some picture.

UPDATE--nietogimenez sent me an email indicating the original IS available and said you can just Google for it.

Like most soviet films of the period (and I watched the original version), in has no action whatsoever. The plot is stilted as statues at the People's Economy Achievements Exhibition in Moscow, and the story drags its feet to no end. It is a typical tableau vivant aimed at kicking imperialist America one more time, and at showing Russians (but mostly Ukrainians, as the film was done at the infamous Dovzhenko Studios, legendary for its spectacularly bad productions) at their best and foremost.

However, this propaganda poster about how Soviets and Americans tried to prove to each other whose penis extender—pardon me, phallic symbol—is better, racing each other to Mars, of all places, is nicely illustrated with analog FX. The music is abominable, and is in place only in the scene of "space madness" of the one "bad American" they let out into space. The dialogue is absurdist and as ridiculous as the gadgetry shown. More than anything else, it reminds me of the old Chapayev joke: —Pet'ka, the apparatus. —Six, Vasily Ivanovich. —Six what? —Apparatus what? In some sense, it's just as silly as Gravity. Look how much time passed, and what has changed?

Nevertheless, content-wise, the film's narrow-minded positivism and typical soviet jingoism is set off by one truly Pynchonian twist, and you can appreciate it if you read Gravity's Rainbow. The film has its own Gottfried, and there is the Gottfried glorious moment there. A-and Gottfried's name in the film is Grigory.

Although bearing the AIP logo and giving the characters all-American names like Craig Matthews and Paul Clinton the credits give the game away by revealing that it's actually a Mosfilm production in characteristically hot colours bought by Roger Corman's Filmgroup who engaged the services of his illustrious protege Francis Ford Coppola (credited as Associate Producer) depicting an international endeavour to colonise Mars; which seemed a far more imminent prospect sixty years ago that it does today, with a couple of monsters thrown in that manage to be both absurd and Freudian in equal measure.

1997: after a catastrophic atomic war, the Earth has divided into two rival nations, the North Hemis and the South Hemis, both sides locked in a battle to be the first to land on Mars.

Battle Beyond the Sun started life as a state-sponsored Russian sci-fi movie called Nebo Zovyat— a breath-taking, prophetic vision of the Soviet Union's journey into space; in the disrespectful hands of opportunistic producer Roger Corman and a young and eager-to-please Francis Ford Coppola, what was once awe-inspiring becomes laughable, the pair badly dubbing and drastically re-editing the original two hour epic to a mere 64-minutes of clumsy space melodrama (albeit it with impressive effects), 'enhanced' by silly inserts of space monsters that look suspiciously like genitalia.

It's dull going as the two nations race to the 'Red Planet' only to fail with the finishing line in sight, and the feel-good moral of the tale—that rival nations must co-operate if they want to achieve truly great things—does little to compensate for the sheer shoddiness of the whole cut-and-paste approach and the frustrating fact that the wonders of Mars remain unseen.