Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2018
Images from the Internet
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
Directed by John De Bello
Four Square Productions; MVD Visual
65 minutes, 1978 / 2018
Back in 1978, I attended the Worst
Film Festival, held in New York City, which was sponsored and hosted by the Medved
brothers, Harry and Michael; they wrote the book The Fifty Worst Films of All Time (with Randy Dreyfuss). There, I
was present for the world premiere of Attack
of the Killer Tomatoes. Also in attendance was the director, John De Bello, who I
remember talking about how the helicopter crash in the film was real, and they
kept it in because it was great footage (and rightfully so).
Yeah, AotKT gets flack for being bad, but in retrospect the film can be seen as either
a turning point or effected one, because just two years later, Airplane! (1980) would hit the theaters
and change the way cinema looked at comedy (as Mel Brooks had done in 1974 with
Blazing Saddles). That absurdist
humor that we had loved so much in the previous The Groove Tube (1974) and Kentucky
Fried Movie (1977) came to adulthood (such as it was; perhaps it regressed...) with Airplane!. However, AotKT was the missing link between the two sketch comedy films and
the fully grown Airplane!, taking short
bits and stretching them into a full movie, albeit with sketch-like set pieces.
I mean, this film even has multiple amusing Public Address Announcements, which
was also employed often by Airplane! Coincidence?!
I haven’t seen the film since that
time (and have never seen the multiple sequels), yet I was pleasantly surprised
to find that it really was a bit ahead of its time. Audiences, however, were
just not ready to appreciate it. And that includes me. I remember it being bad,
but I also recall being amused by it. It makes more sense in the perspective of
the comedy timeline I mentioned above.
For those who don’t know, the basic
premise is that tomatoes had genetically mutated and became flesh-eating
monsters, including some that had grown to enormous (human) size. The film
doesn’t waste any time, immediately jumping into the fray with the first scene.
Of course, most of the violence occurs off-screen since this is a low budget
film (despite the destruction of the whirlybird), and well, most of the time
they used real to-may-toes (as
opposed to to-mah-toes; yeah, I don’t
know what that means either; I’m just gettin’ with the program, Jack).
The humor is both broad and subtle,
but all of it bada-boom, bada-bing, bada sis-boom-bah. In other words, it’s non-stop. For example, in just one scene
– and this isn’t everything by a long shot – generals and scientists gather in
a meeting room that is way too small, a Japanese scientist is obviously and
badly dubbed; at one point he knocks a photo to the bottom of a fish tank, and
of course it’s of the battleship USS Arizona. Then the head of the Federal
Intelligence Agency makes a point that he doesn’t need to check into the
background of anyone involved with this project; a future Trump selection?.
Speaking of which, there is a lot of
fun made of the (fictional) president in the film. Now, this was released
during the time of Jimmy Carter, but it seems pretty obvious to me it was
written during the tenure of Gerald Ford by the manner of which he is duplicitous
(e.g., getting rid of a submarine base because “those funny little black ships
just keep sinking anyway”).
Some of the humor is quite topical,
and has now reached the stage where it might get lost on a younger audience.
For example, two soldiers are looking and a map and someone asks what the blue
dots on a map mean, and is told “Those are Mobil stations,” from the days when
gas stations gave out free maps. Or someone calling the operator on a pay phone
and claiming he got a wrong number and wanting the money back (yes, this really
happened).
Also, a lot of the humor that was
hysterical then is kinda rubbing against the PC model, with some gay and racial
humor (e.g., a Black man in disguise dressed as Hitler), and a rape joke and
assumption that it is women’s duty to sleep with someone to get what she needs
for her job (in this case, a reporter). One could also see a bit of sexism if
they wanted in a love song that professes, “Our love will be classy / Just like
Timmy and Lassie,” but I’ll leave that one up to you to decide.
There are a number of song set pieces
in here making it a musical-Lite , such as a salesman explaining to a
government official about how he knows how to sway an audience (a pre-Wag the Dog influence, decades before
that 1997 release?), or an Army officer doing an Elvis-ish song and dance with
a chorus of soldiers that’s a cross between a Monty Python bit (“Oooh, get her
/ You military fairy!”) and a foretelling of Mel Brooks’ dancing and singing
Merry Men in Robin Hood: Men in Tights
(1993). Another spoof song that shows up occasionally is “Puberty Love,” done
in a high-pitched whine by Matt Cameron, who went on to become the drummer for
Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. With all that, the song that most people remember is
the title one written by the director, sung in a bravado voice and whose chorus
is incredibly catchy. |
| Sharon Taylor |
As for the story proper, well, it’s a
bit all over the map, but the closest thing to a protagonist is a government
agent named Mason Dixon (David Miller). His not-so-bright sidekick is pilot Wilber
Finletter (Rock Peace, aka J. Stephen
Peace, aka the co-writer of the film)
who always has his parachute trailing behind him. The government is trying to
either keep the killer tomatoes a secret, or to convince the public that there
is no danger, whose drive is led by Press Secretary George Wilson (Jim Richardson).
However, news reporter Lois Fairchild (the willowy and unconventional cutie
Sharon Taylor who has a Julie Hagerty vibe), is hot... on the trail of the
story. Meanwhile, someone is trying to assassinate Dixon, while the huge
tomatoes are gobbling people up.
Many of the people in the film went
on to other roles, though few had spectacular film careers beyond the sequels,
arguably other than “Twin Peaks” actor Dana Ashbrook, who had a non-credit role
here. That is not to say there aren’t a couple of cameos here and there, such
as English actor Eric Christmas (you’d probably recognize him if you saw him;
d. 2000), and especially Jack Riley (d. 2016), a comic performer who had many
roles in the 1970s and ‘80s, but is probably best known in the recurring psychiatric
patient role of Mr. Carlin on “The Bob Newhart Show.”
There are two discs on this set, one
in Blu-ray and one DVD, so you can watch it in any contraption. I don’t have an
HD teevee, so I couldn’t tell the difference, but both have the same extras,
which include the following:
 |
| Jack Riley |
Of course, there is a commentary
track, with the three original creators of the film, De Bello, Peace and Costa
Dillon. They still work well together to tell the story of the making of the
film through inception to anecdotes, all with a sense of humor without stepping
all over each other, which is great. Even though it was recorded a quarter of a
century after the film was made but a decade before this version of the release
for the DVD in 2003 for the DVD release, as was the rest of bonus material, it
still sounds relevant.
You may not know that the film
actually started as a 17:35-minute short in 1976, which is presented here both
without and with commentary track. It’s worth the view (for both) to see just
how many of the gags they kept intact – if not nearly identical – and the
storylines that were added to pad it out to a feature. It’s still pretty funny,
shot as a college course student film on 8mm. The acting is horrendous, but it’s
important to remember the context of when and why it was made. Also showing is
an even earlier 32:27 short, “Gone with the Babusaland” from 1971. Being a
silent film, it just comes with the commentary. It doesn’t really make too much
sense, and it is funny in parts, but what makes this most interesting is it presents
the early version of the Mason Dixon and Finletter characters that were
incorporated into the main feature later. Unfortunately, the volume of the
commentary is much lower than the others, so it’s a bit hard to hear.
The 14:14 short “Attack of the Killer
Tomatoes: The Legacy” follows. This is a really fun documentary/interview with
the three main behind-the-scenes guys, and pieces with people like Bruce
Vilanch and other fans. For 3:40 there’s “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes Redux:
Chopper Crash” which is about, well, duh. It’s an enjoyable mixture of news and
archival material mixed with 2003 follow-up interviews with the crew and Jack
Riley. The subsequent short is three “Deleted Scenes” that are enjoyable to
watch, but yeah, they were right to be pulled as there was plenty of other gags
that worked better that remained. The very short – err – short, “Famous Fowl,” comes
after that at a mere 2:21 about the San Diego Chicken mascot discussing his
being in the penultimate scene, shot in the San Diego stadium.
Next up is a 4:33 short titled “A Killer
Tomato Invades Hollywood” (also called “Killer Tommatomania”). We meet “as seen
on television” interviewer Wendy Wilder (I have no idea who is she is,
FYI) talking to some effervescent dude dressed as a “killer tomato guy”
(described as “desperate actor”). He walks around Hollywood asking people (in
an obnoxious way) to complete the sentence, “Attack of the Killer ____.” It’s
more goofy than interesting. What I found more appealing (and humorous) is the
2:52 “Where Are They Now?” which catches us up with the main actors (as of 10
years ago, of course), narrated with funny dialogue. “We Told You So!” is a
3:07 look at how ahead of the game the film was in warning the world about GMO “Frankenfoods,”
told in a humorously told-you-so snarky manner.
 |
| Rock Peace and David Miller |
As for trailers, we get the
theatrical one (see below), two radio spots, and oddly enough, the coming
attraction for the Lech Kowalski punk film, D.O.A.:
Rite of Passage.
The last presented is a series of
clips of the songs, with the lyrics underneath (and a follow-along bouncing tomato
ball, natch), and then “Slated for Success: The Killer Tomato Slate Girl,” with
a 1:57 tongue-in-cheek honor for Beth Reno (who was also the production
accountant), the film’s “Slate Girl.” It shows just how wonderfully silly this
whole film is, in the long run.
There is a reason why AotKT has reached such a strong cult
status, in my opinion. While not as noteworthy a bad film as The Room (2003), it’s come to be a funny
mess that is worth the watch for the nostalgia, the mostly decent corny jokes,
the political humor, and a snapshot of comedy of its period. It’s also
interesting, as I’ve implied, to see it in a rear view mirror (as Marshall
McLuhan would have put it), to note how the use of humor is reflected and
arguably copied in more infamous films to come.
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