DESTINATION INNER SPACE (1966)
Don't look now, but I'm in my wheelhouse again. If only I could stay here indefinitely. For the uninitiated, my wheelhouse involves fishmen. This one is a little more fish than man. It's also from outer space, but hold your (sea) horses. I can't actually remember how or where I learned about this mini-submersible, but I'm glad that I did. Revisiting Destination Inner Space, I wondered aloud how it wasn't a cult classic held in high esteem. All of the right ingredients are present. A chiseled, wildly misogynistic Scott Brady turns in a proficient performance as a naval commander reporting to an underwater laboratory. Sonar has detected an unidentified object floating ever closer to home base. It's soon revealed to be a probe that isn't from around here. The hovercraft contains a strange capsule, and no, it's not full of blood. As it happens, it's fraught with a fishman, a righteous rascal with an orange mohawk (technically, it's a fleshy ridge, but I'm sticking with "mohawk").
Once our monster is introduced, the camera isn't timid when it comes to glamour shots of Gillman from Space. He seems to know he's the star of the show. Now, I'll level with you; the pace could be described as somewhat laborious. There are a few moments of dead air, but I was sold on this flick from the very first frame. I'm willing to overlook certain flaws, flaws that might be damaging to someone who doesn't have a predilection for this sub-subgenre. I think we all have cases where we look the other way as it relates to a movie's deficiencies. For instance, I refuse to believe that Spookies isn't pitch-perfect. I better wrap this up before my tangent charters an oblique course through redundancy (sorry, Spookies brings out the worst in me). Definitely give Destination Inner Space a whirl, even if it's just for the scene in which Gillman from Space is restrained and basically handcuffed. It's too much, man.
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