Lost on Mars (2002)

May 21, 2003

by Nathan Shumate

Written and directed by Eric E. Shook
Starring
- David Long
- Megan Glosser
- Gretchen Maxwell
- Kelli Wilson
- Brittany Wisovaty

I find myself saying this so much in response to microbudget features, with so little effect, that I feel like John the Baptist, a lone voice crying in the wilderness, saying,

“Start with a good script.”

That’s so terribly, terribly important with underground auteurs, because so often they are writer/director/producer/editor/caterer, with no one else to ground them or point out their blind spots. There are literally thousands of new scripts from wanna-bes flooding Hollywood every year; only the best few make it through the obstacle course of readers, development execs, studio pooh-bahs, and for-real producers and directors to the screen. Think about that a minute; no matter how bad the dreck is that you see in the cineplex, those are by and large the BEST of the screenplays hitting the studio slushpiles. But the writer of every one of those scripts thought his was worth spending millions of dollars to film. The do-it-yourselfer has to have the drive of every other writer, plus the self-critical abilities to shoot down his own groaners, because he literally has no one else to do it.

“Sorry, sir — I came to report to the launch site right after band practice.”

That means, among other things, the script has to encompass a compelling story (you know, a narrative with a beginning, a middle, and an end). It has to be populated by characters who give the audience a reason to care for them as much as the filmmaker wants us to. The dialogue needs to be good — realistic, but better than just plain old reality (who would pay eight bucks to listen to the idjits in the next Taco Bell booth prattle on for two hours?).

And for microbudgeters, there’s an extra hurdle: You need to come up with a story, and a plan for telling it, that doesn’t outstrip your resources. Which is why, when I saw this movie about interplanetary exploration on a budget of a buck-and-a-quarter, my soul was weighed down with flashbacks to Blood Red Planet.

My fears were well-placed. Granted, Lost on Mars isn’t anywhere near as bad as Blood Red Planet, but that’s because it would take conscious and deliberate effort to produce something that bad. LoM is still pretty darned bad.

Now is NOT the time to start reading the instructions.

Our heroes are Alex (David Long), Nichole (Megan Glosser), and Michelle (Gretchen Maxwell), three early twenty-something astronauts slated for the much-delayed Mars exploration mission, as we’re told in many many scenes of expository dialogue. Hint: If you’ve got lots of exposition to lay out, have experienced actors. If you’ve got untried actors, keep the dialogue to a minimum — or at the very least, with a lower line-to-action ratio than the collected works of Shakespeare. In this case, we’ve got actors who range between “reading the menu” and “starring in the fifth grade play,” and a script that opts for exposition wherever possible, even expositing things that have absolutely no bearing on the story. Here’s an example: Alex discusses with Nichole, and with his commanding officer General Gatewood (John T. Oerling), Michelle’s fitness for the mission, since she’s recently lost both her parents. There’s much debate, but Alex insists on her inclusion in the mission. Think this might affect the plot at some point? You guessed wrong. Once the general decides to let her go along, that entire facet of the story vanishes completely.

Anyway. Their mission is finally greenlighted, with military backing, because a mysterious energy blip has shown up in a possibly-artificial structure on Mars. The entire project is now under military control (which, since Alex was answering to a general, is a change how?). The entire project, as far as we can see, being the three astronauts, the general, and the general’s Girl Friday (Beverly Rankin), all of whom hold their briefings in a “conference room” that looks like a junior high lunch room.

The launch is uneventful — a good thing, because there would be no budget to show any events. As it happens, it’s mostly footage inside a folding-chair-and-egg-carton cockpit, interspersed with some mercifully brief computer graphics. (I’ll readily grant a clear superiority here over Blood Red Planet, which dwelled far too long and proudly on its Atari 5200 graphics.) Then they talk some more, then they (offscreen) go into hypersleep, then they (offscreen) wake up, then they (offscreen) land on Mars and (offscreen) disembark. Because, you, know, there’s no budget in this Mars epic to make any sort of lander mock-up; it’s just “Well, here we are on the orange-filtered surface, and you’d better keep that camera trained right on my faceplate because the rest of my ‘spacesuit’ costume sucks!”

No! Don’t land in Utah! We don’t want you here!

Following the power blip, Alex crawls into a cave and discovers that the ancient Martians had mastered the art of bric-a-brac; a shelf on the wall holds a number of vases, planters, boxes, etc. And that golden glitter coming from them can only mean one thing: They also held the secret of gold spraypaint! In the middle of the room is a big box; Alex takes out a smaller box with a mechanical something-or-other in it, the cause of the blip. (I’m thinking that if that thing’s putting out enough energy to attract casual attention on Earth, you might not want to be holding it that close to your face.)

He takes it back and (offscreen) throws it in the trunk of the rocket, then they take off, only to have that damned energy blip go ahead and blip their engines right out. They spiral down into a crashlanding, and set there, all bummed that they’re going to have to die and all, especially with their oxygen running out. (“I told YOU to bring the spare!”) Eventually, though, one of them notices that the atmospheric oxygen readings are higher than they should be; not only that, but the shipboard chronometer helpfully observes that it’s now three billion years earlier than when they lifted off. (Oddly enough, for a ship equipped with a timepiece that sophisticated, no one thought to give the cockpit a window or any other means of seeing the surrounding environment. Cutbacks blow, don’t they?)

They go outside (you know the routine by now: “Well, here we are in the great outdoors…”), where it’s blue-skied and bears a suspicious resemblance to Illinois. And being intrepid space explorers, well, they set up a tent and stay where they are for a couple of weeks. (Oh, and there are cavepeople around. Offscreen, naturally. But they’re mentioned in passing. That proves they’re there, right?)

Finally, just after the girls get into an impromptu catfight about, you know, being bored ‘n’ all with Mars, Michelle is grabbed by a huge hairy guy with a sword (director Eric Shook). And then Nichole is too. And then Alex is — two weeks later. (Are we trying to pass the entire three billion years in fits and starts?) They’re all in the dungeons of the mighty Siperion Empire, an interstellar dictatorship which sees fit to dress its people in pseudo-Renaissance Faire costumes and have them wield swords. The astronauts are sent to work in the (offscreen) mines, until they are brought before the (ahem) authorities of this outpost.

Boy, she just exudes severe efficiency, doesn’t she?

It’s a vaguely matriarchal society, by the way — “vaguely” in the sense that the entire place seems to be run by college-aged girls. The Head Officer (Julia Gommel, credited only as “Head Officer”) wears a perpetual cherubic grin, as if she’s channelling a Care Bear. The Administrator of Justice (Brittany Wisovaty, credited only — you got it — as “Adm. of Justice”), and the cruel and ambitious security chief Giza (Kelli Wilson), the only actress to rise above the crowd of “sure, I’ll be in your movie!” types. Not that she’s winning any academy awards soon, but at least she was better. Evil, and better at it.

Anyway. The three Siperions accuse the astronauts of being spies, and summarily discount their story of a spaceship from the future — even though spaceships aren’t unheard of, and even though this very outpost was set up for the express secret purpose of constructing a “time disruptor” device! (This is being constructed at this very time, in fact, by offscreen scientists.)

We kill a fair amount of time with the astronauts whining about the smell of their cell and the slop they’re fed (thrill to the non-stop swill-eating action!), until the story really ends up concerning the three Siperion women and their neverending machinations. Giza wants to rule the Empire (“It’s my right,” she says repeatedly, but never deigns to explain further); the Head Officer just wants to keep things running well until their upcoming inspection is finished; and the Admiral of Justice tries to play both sides, protesting her loyalty to each as well as her thespian skills will allow.

Also playing both sides is the hairy guard guy, who appears to be the entirety of both the security force and army. He slips into cahoots (and bed) with whoever’s in favor for ten minutes — but don’t get your hopes up, that time in bed is spent mostly in talking. I hope you like lots of exposition in your pillow talk…

“Well, yes, I think I COULD find someone hairier if I tried.”

In seems, for the last half hour, like we’ve suddenly slipped into a Greek tragedy, in which every action of possible consequence to the plot takes place offscreen and is reported back to us after the fact. Like what? Oh, like a mission by a Siperion lackey to find the crashed spaceship, and the theft of the time disruptor by the guard, and the long-planned jailbreak, and the theft of the time disruptor by the astronauts, and the death of the inspecting authority (who turns out to be Giza’s sister), and and and…

By the closing credits, the story has veered entirely away from the astronauts (you remember, our protagonists?), and concentrates wholly on the Siperion power struggles. Does that mean that the characters Shook created failed even to hold his interest? One can only guess.