It's like my ol' grandpappy used to say: there's no better movie to dig into on a hot summer night than one about the strange and arcane energies that move through the air on hot summer nights.
Night Slaves features the King of '70s Corn, James Franciscus, playing a distinctly unconvincing dropout; a pre-parody Leslie Nielsen exuding simian menace; Lee Grant at the peak of her gorgeous elegance; Witch-King Andrew Prine; and an irresistible alien cupcake played with giddy aplomb by the doe-eyed manic-pixie-supreme, Tisha Sterling.
And to cap this cocktail-of-crazy off, the whole hullabaloo was produced by Bing Crosby's outfit, of all people.
In other words, it's absolute godhead.
Unlike all the more prosaic alien-invasion potboilers, Night Slaves will insinuate itself very quietly into your unconscious and stay there.
Indeed, after watching, my mind is given to strange flights of fancy, such as how much of this film is simply a metaphor for the real-world control grid that pressgangs people into feeding its unholy appetites.
Or pondering how more sublime signals seemed to reach more minds before the very air itself became crammed to capacity with electromagnetic junk.
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ONLY TEN THIRTEEN. ONLY $10.13.
