Stop me if you've heard this one before: A murderous mutant monster runs amok on the research facility Phaebon. It's up to rough'n'tumble trouble shooter Commander Krieger (Marc Singer coasting on thespic automatic pilot) to stop the beast. Sound familiar? Yep, this particular picture is a hopelessly lame'n'tame rehash of "Forbidden World," which in turn was essentially a sleazed-up early 80's drive-in discount version of "Alien." Alas, "Dead Space" crucially lacks the scuzzy verve, slimy content, and sardonic wit that made "Forbidden World" such a trashy treat. Flatly (non)directed by Fred Gallo, with a trite and uninspired by-the-numbers script by Catherine Cyran, a crippling lack of suspense and energy, dim, murky cinematography by Mark Parry, drippy characters, cruddy (less than) special effects, precious little gratuitous female nudity, terrible dialogue ("This thing is tough and adaptable -- and growing at an incredible rate!"), poorly staged monster attack set pieces, a draggy pace, mild gore, a generic hum'n'shiver score by Daniel May, and a limp conclusion, this lead-footed clunker makes for a heavy chore to endure. The cast struggle gamely with the lackluster material: Laura Mae Tate as feisty genetics expert Marissa (who at least bares her nice breasts once), a pre-"Breaking Bad" Bryan Cranston as hard-nosed, terminally ill doctor Darden, Judith Chapman as chilly scientist Stote, Randy Reinholz as craven, wormy jerk Tim, ravishing redhead Lori Lively as perky computer specialist Jill, and Rodger Halston as Krieger's creaky, sharp-tongued robot partner Tinpan all do their proverbial best, but they are fighting a no-win uphill battle all the way. This deadly dull dud earns a point or two for its mercifully brief 72 minute running time, but overall it's still really bad and hence unworthy of your time.
Review of Dead Space
