As the sun sets in the west, and the ‘LUNA’ rises in the evening shade (yes, I know it was always there but obscured with the reflections in the sky, Mr. Roy G. Biv), the world changes, and not always for the good. Sure, the ‘man in the moon’ helps the planet stay on its axis, helps the oceanic circle of life thrive, and provided Hans a lighted path to the outhouse at three in the morning in 1875 (when you have Töpfchen, you gotta Töpfchen); still, the mighty white marble hovering just a mere 238,900 miles away (but who’s counting) can be a real jerk! When the moon is at its peak fullest, not only do animals tend to be more skittish out of fear of being prey to some predator that can see them easier (GET TO THE CHOPPER!) and roadkill occurrences go up fifty percent (the chicken did not get to the other side), but the rate of animals needing to go to the emergency room at vet hospitals almost double due to their volatile reaction to such an occurrence! Though, unlike our LUNAtic hero/villian/moon reptile in the far, far, far, out of the world cult classic Track of the Moon Beast, I doubt any of the veterinarians will mark on the animals’ records they were hospitalized from being smacked in the head by a space rock (I wonder how much the deductible would be for an asteroid concussion)!
Lensed (mostly in daylight for night shooting) in 1972, Track of the Moon Beast led a very sheltered and caged lifestyle, hardly able to roam free in the midst of a chaotic post-production. Made on a miniscule budget of $300,000 (though most of this money might have been spent on hairspray and suntan location shooting in the desert), and partially financed through the New Mexico Chamber of Commerce tax credits, the hardest part of the film wasn’t finding (un)believable actors who could pull off being afraid (although they might have missed a few of their evening acting classes from watching the finished product), it was finding someone who wanted to even put the film under the moonlite stars at a local drive-in! Hacking up hairballs and picking lint out of its celluloid fur for four years, the producers at Lizard Productions, Inc., spent several lunar cycles trying to get a distributor for the film, only to end up having to a heavily chop the gruesome parts to air it directly to television in 1976 (at least the styles in the movie were still in, except for the whole disco revolution thing). Not an Apollo-sized juggernaut when it premiered, the movie disappeared for many years, aside from a few broadcasts here and there, and still ended up heavily dumped onto Ma and Pa video store shelves in the early days of VHS due to copyright issues. The film has grown in popularity over the years, from online screenings and of course the hilarious episode of the riffing MST3K; still, fans have flocked to this scaly cinematic acantholysis because of the special effects, developed by a team of Joe Blasco (whose make-up credits range from the likes of Ilsa: She Wolf of the SS to The Lawrence Welk Show), and an assistant make-up artist you might have heard of named Rick Baker (yes, the seven time Academy Award winning make-up artist who had his share of druck muck like Octaman and Squirm). Lots of tight jeans, feathered haircuts, and wildly edited massacres throughout to make you want to shed your skin out of sheer LUNAcy watching the skies for this falling star (was Chicken Little the head of the production company?).
Way out in the dusty, dark, dingy roads of Albuquerque, New Mexico (my regards to the chamber of commerce’s finances, which they seem to watch very closely), a hard-headed seventies macho man meteorologist Paul is one of the luckiest men alive, being thumped on the noggin by a lunar meteorite while tryin to snuggle under the meteor shower with his girlfriend Kathy. Though he seems alright at first with just a few minor headaches and nausea (it’s called Pepto Bismol, Paul), something within the bolide makes him change. Beware! Beware, Paul, for even if you are a good, kind man who says his prayer, when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright, you will become… a Gecko! That’s right, the little rock is making Paul change his colors and sit in the glowing heat of a lamp for warmth, as well as mutilate and maim anyone who happens to be in the way of his wicked lizard lick! Will Paul, aided by his girlfriend and a trusted fellow anthropology professor, find a cure for this murderous rage comet before Paul kills in a meteoroid rage?
Hailing through the night sky at a blazing eighty-one minutes, and directed by Richard Ashe (whose only other credits are assistant directing hits like Diary of a Mad Housewife and Girls Are For Living), the oddity of it all is the film was written by Milton “Bill” Finger, who was heavily involved in the early days of DC’s Batman comics along with partner Bob Kane, and would go on to scribe cult classic screenplays like Death Comes to Planet Aytin and The Green Slime. Due to its copyright erupting into a ball of fire as it crash-landed into the planet of Publica Domagnigus (near the constellation of Dumbbestte Movieithius), you can find this little comet streaming in most galaxies far, far away. So, the next time you and a loved one are keeping each other warm under the crystal clear sky, as you see that shooting star, be sure to make a wish that you will never see the likes of such a film blazing under the harvest moon!
