It Was So Bad
That It Was Great
by Don Drewniak
Suffering two
broken legs and a broken hip in a collision with
a wild boar is bad, it can never be great.
Being broke
and owing a large sum of money to the Mafia is
bad, it can never be great.
Driving eighty miles an hour in a Volkswagen
Beetle the wrong way on a freeway is bad, it can
never be great.
Listening
hours on end to talking heads on cable news
stations is bad, it can never be great (unless
one is a masochist).
The same can
be said of most low-budget movies, but not all.
Every now and then there is a movie so bad, that
it is great. One of the few that rises to
greatness is Attack of the 50 FT Woman.
In the oft-used words of Molly Sugden in the role
of Mrs. Betty Slocumbe in the British sitcom
series Are You Being Served? “And
I am unanimous in that!”
Knowing that
those who read this will rush to YouTube to
invest $3.99 to rent the movie, I will keep my
description of the plot to a bare minimum.
While driving
homeward at night (of course) on a lightly
traveled desert road (of course), an alcoholic
and emotionally disturbed heiress, Nancy Archer,
encounters a large, spherical “satellite.”
Unlike
virtually all 1950s movies involving aliens from
distant planets, the creators of the Attack
of the 50 FT Woman employed the term
satellite rather than flying saucer. They most
likely chose satellite because the movie debuted
in 1958 shortly after Russia launched the first
man-made satellite, Sputnik I.
A humanoid 30-foot
alien emerges from the satellite and attempts to
grab Archer. However, she manages to escape and
run back to the small town in which she lives.
Nobody believes her tale thanks to her well-known
drinking and emotional problems, especially as
she had previously spent time in a sanatorium.
Meanwhile, her
philandering husband, Harry Archer, to whom she
has been married twice, is openly spending time
with the town floozy (a popular term in the 50s
for a woman of ill repute). Encouraged by his
latest “lady friend,” he pretends to be
a good husband hoping that his wife will have a
second breakdown and a return to the sanatorium.
This would put him in control of her multi-million
dollar estate.
Desperate to
be believed, Nancy strikes a bargain with her
husband. She asks him to scour the desert in the
area where she had her encounter with the
satellite and the giant humanoid. In return, she
promises to return to the sanatorium if nothing
is found.
As day turns
to dusk and then to night, they find the alien
craft. Shortly thereafter, the giant humanoid
emerges from it. Harry fires his handgun at the
creature, but to no avail. He then hightails (a
favorite word in the 40s and 50s) it back to the
mansion, stuffs clothes in a small suitcase and
plans to flee town with his floozy.
I know that
the thousands upon thousands reading this account
are chomping at the bit to download the movie.
Therefore, I will not spoil your movie enjoyment
by revealing the exciting conclusion and the
events that lead to the never-to-be-forgotten
ending. However, bear with me as I take you back
to 1958.
My hometown of
Fall River, Massachusetts was blessed with eight
indoor theaters and four nearby drive-ins in the
50s. I was a huge fan of 50s monster movies and
those that featured aliens from outer space. Two
of my favorites: (1) Them! —
the first of the 50s giant-insect films and one
of the first to use radiation from atomic
explosions as a causal factor in science-fiction
films; and (2) Gojira —
the first Godzilla movie.
I had the
immense good fortune to see Attack of
the 50 FT Woman at the Academy Theater
in downtown Fall River. With me were two close
friends, Lenny and Mitch, who have “starred”
in several of my previously released stories.
As we headed
home following the conclusion of the epic film, I
said, “There is a big problem with that
movie.”
“What?”
asked Lenny.
“Well,
when she started to grow, they chained her to the
bed.”
“So?”
“When she
broke free and smashed her way out of the mansion
(okay, I may have used house instead of mansion),
she was wearing a top which covered her breasts (okay,
I may have used another term for breasts) and
another piece of clothing to cover her bottom (okay,
I may have used another term for bottom). Where
did she get the giant-sized clothes? They didn’t
grow.”
Lenny looked
at me, and said with a smirk on his 14-year-old
face, “You just wanted to see her bazookas
and her crotch, right?”
I couldn’t
argue with that.
Note: If the
50-foot woman were the size of the one shown in
the link, the movie should have been named Attack
of the 200 FT. Woman.
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