• Directed by Steven Lisberger
• Written by Tony Kayden
• Starring
  • Bob Peck
  • Mark Hamill
  • Kitty Aldridge
  • Bill Paxton
• Produced by Gary Kurtz

Of the principal (recognizable) actors of Star Wars, you could say that only Harrison Ford went on to bigger and better things on-screen. Carrie Fisher has largely confined herself to supporting roles; Billy Dee Williams has done a string of low-budget action and cop flicks; and Mark Hamill…

Mark Hamill has paid the bills doing voice work for cartoons (his biggest role being The Joker on the animated Batman); between such assignments he has made some godawful sci-fi films.

Slipstream is one of them.

Hamill, still recognizable despite bleached hair and a beard, is Tasker, a stern lawman in a post-apocalyptic world, taking his prisoner, Byron, back to the authorities to be tried for murder.

This future world, after a “convergence” of earthquakes and floods that decimated the great population centers, is criss-crossed with canyons, through which the Slipstream, a “great river of wind,” flows. Small aircraft is the transportation of choice these days. While all of this affords 1) a break from the normal desert wasteland and 2) some beautiful aerial photography of canyonlands (shot in England and Turkey), some parts are never explained — like, how does one go backward? Can you only go east, never west, or vice versa? If so, how does Tasker plan to get his prisoner “back” (though we’re never actually told where “back” is)?

That last point largely becomes moot, because Bill Paxton, playing they same annoying but well-meaning character he usually does, is Matt Owens, a small-time hood looking for his big break. At the requisite watering hole, he manages to steal the impeccably British Byron (Bob Peck of Jurassic Park) from Tasker and his assistant girl, Belitski (Kitty Aldridge). The rest of the movie supposedly has three facets: Tasker & Belitski chasing Owens, Owens and Byron bonding, and a tour of this new world, where small communities have been set up in eddies in the Slipstream.

Byron, it seems, is practically perfect. He’s genteel, he quotes poetry at the least provocation, and he has no intent of escaping; he’s perfectly content to be taken back for trial. Oh yeah — and occasionally he heals someone. Yet with his great wisdom, there’s still something childlike and innocent about him. That, and his facial resemblance to Brent Spiner, had be guessing the truth half an hour before Tasker revealed it: Byron’s an android. Surprise!

Now, here’s the biggest problem. Two-thirds of the way through the movie, we change venue entirely. Owens and Byron find themselves led into an underground complex which has been surviving independently since the convergence, where everyone is highly cultured and cares for art and beauty and, you know, that stuff. The entire mood and direction of the movie changes; Byron does a Fred Astaire bit, for crying out loud!

Here’s what I like to imagine happened: producer Gary Kurtz (of American Graffiti, Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and The Dark Crystal, plus others) came to director Steven Lisberger (who also directed Tron, and who hasn’t been in the director’s seat since Slipstream) after two-thirds of principle photography was completed.

“Sorry,” says Kurtz, “we ran out of money. The investors dried up. No more aerial photography. No more location shoots.”

“But — but — but,” stammers Lisberger, “we can’t just scrap it. Look at what I’ve done so far! Look at the beautiful aerials! Look at the message of friendship! Look how mean I’ve made Mark Hamill look! There’s got to be some way to finish the picture.”

“Well,” says Kurtz, “here’s what I’ve got: A big, opulent museum set, and a whole bunch of ’20s costumes. And I think we can get F. Murray Abraham for one day of shooting. Maybe you could do, like, a Boy and His Dog thing.”

Lisberger goes into deep thought, furiously reviving the plot, as Kurtz walks away.