FILM : Good Taste Is Alien to ‘Plan 9,’ But That’s the Point

Sitting through “Plan 9 From Outer Space” can be torture for film purists, whose cinematic souls well may be soiled by Edward D. Wood Jr.’s banzai extravaganza of bad taste, bad execution and bad results.

It is like ballet performed in hiking boots (maybe hiking boots on stilts), or a carpenter trying to raise a house with a fork. There’s really nothing to appreciate but the hopelessness and helplessness of it all.

But cultists dig “Plan 9” because of how anti-art it is: This sci-fi disaster from 1959 may be the worst movie ever made.

“Plan 9,” being shown Friday night as part of the Muckenthaler Cultural Center’s “Monsters by Moonlight” series, has company at the bottom. There’s “Glen or Glenda?” (1952), “Bride of the Monster” (1955) and “Night of the Ghouls” (1960), each a legitimate contender for the crown of most horrendous.

Wood created them all. He just had a gift for awful.

Typical of the paranoid streak running through Wood’s flicks, “Plan 9” begins with a worried introduction by campy television seer Criswell, who talks broadly about a government conspiracy to keep the movie from the public.

As he always closed his TV show, Criswell notes that everyone should pay attention to “the future, because that’s where we going to live the rest of our lives,” whereupon the story begins, in a cemetery where Bela Lugosi weeps by a fresh grave.

“Plan 9” marked Lugosi’s sad end in Hollywood: He died two days into the shooting. Wood replaced him with a younger (and much taller) actor who covered his face with his sleeve.

In the few scenes Lugosi does play, he appears more ashen than any makeup could provide, and his acting is far more somnambulistic than that of the zombies who stumble through Woods’ lousy fog-and-brambles back-lot sets.

As Lugosi carries on by the grave, down come flying saucers that look suspiciously like spray-painted plates. They wobble all over the place; if you look closely, you can see the strings holding them, and their shadows as they’re pulled against photographed backdrops.

The aliens--dressed in satiny shirts with zig-zag emblems on their chests (the boss alien seems to be wearing a medieval coat-of-arms)--decide that the best way to take over Earth is to energize the deceased with an “electrode ray.”

What really bugs these extra-terrestrials is that humans “refuse to recognize we exist!” Eros, the paunchy space lieutenant, puts it this way: “You didn’t actually think you were the only inhabited planet in the galaxy, did you? How can any race be so STUPID?!”

Later, Wood revels in his conspiracy theory when a general from Earth admits that space ships have been visiting us for years and suggests that they’ve been responsible for every natural catastrophe. “Take any fire, any earthquake, any major disaster,” he tells a blank-faced soldier. “Then wonder about flying saucers . . . of course, they’re still a rumor, officially.”

Wood never does let anyone speculate on why the government would want to hush everything up. Instead, it’s more monkey business in the graveyard and some last minute talk about “solarnite,” a sun-based substance that makes the hydrogen bomb look like a firecracker. The aliens worry we’ll destroy ourselves with the stuff.

And so it goes. The broad-shouldered hero tells his wife to keep the zombies away by turning on the yard light. She replies by asking him to get the flying saucers to “buzz someone else’s house for a change.”

Wood’s technical skill borders on amazing. Some scenes were shot indoors, others out, and Wood doesn’t mind mixing them whenever he feels like it: At one point, characters tramp through complete darkness and then, a moment later, find themselves in the afternoon sun.

The space ship looks like someone’s living room painted silvery white. There’s a heap of old radio equipment resting on a wooden desk in the corner to give the impression of . . . what, advanced technology?

I could go on and on, but I won’t. I have to figure out what Plan 10 could be, before it’s too late.

What: “Plan 9 From Outer Space.”

When: Friday, Sept. 25, at 8:30 p.m.

Where: The Muckenthaler Cultural Center, 1201 W. Malvern Ave., Fullerton.

Whereabouts: Take the Riverside (91) Freeway to Euclid Street and head north to Malvern.

Wherewithal: $3 to $5.

Where to Call: (714) 738-6595.