Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars (1989)

 Happy Valentine's Day, everybody! Although my VCR is the closest thing I have to a love interest (ba-dum PSH!), I still feel obliged to treat you to a little love story from B-movie land in honor of this cherished holiday.

A man and his vacuum cleaner. Can
you think of anything more endearing?
Actually, I can think of quite a few
things, but, uh... ...whatever.

From simply reading the name, you can correctly assume that “Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars” is one of the most bizarre movies I own. The flick could earn this prestigious title with its premise alone. However, it also goes all out with scattered production values, strange characters, an irreverent sense of humor and more. The result of all of these factors is one very unique and downright absurd experience.

A B-movie connoisseur could watch this film and easily compare it to the recent cult hit “Rubber.” In “Rubber,” the introduction is a condescending pseudo-philosophical diatribe, stating that its world is ruled by the idea of “no reason.” Instead of taking this route, however, “Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars” treats its audience with a vast amount of respect (!) by not informing them of this.

Without further ado, the curtain rises and we are inside an alien spacecraft. In cinema, there are endless routes that you can take in portraying extraterrestrial life and “ORFM” decides to take the claymation route. Conventionally “good” claymation requires two things: money and an extreme amount of attention to detail. This film lacks in both of those departments, so the result is... well, just look.  

These aliens add insult to injury with their grating high-pitched voices. The movie basically opens to a full-on visual and aural assault.

It turns out humanity is actually an experiment and the martians have come to check our progress. After a quick scouring of the planet and the discovery of a hobo named Vernon (Dick Monda) sleeping on the asphalt, the aliens decide that humanity cannot sustain itself as-is. The aliens have a quick discussion set to the backdrop of a JPEG-ified picture of Vernon's face. One of the martians boldly declares: “Hey, let's do a cross between a human and a vacuum cleaner!” Roughly two minutes later, Vernon, now under the influence of an alien aphrodisiac, has sex with a nearby vacuum cleaner, brought to life by the aliens. The theme from “2001: A Space Odyssey” plays as Vernon thrusts himself into the household appliance and, as the scene fades out, the vacuum squeals in ecstasy. Vernon takes to calling his new lover Dusty.

After this charming opening, we're introduced to Tom and Bev, a dysfunctional couple whose relationship is on the brink of both financial and psychological ruin. Bev explains to Tom that their vacuum cleaner is broken and Tom coarsely informs her that they can't afford a new one. Tom and Bev are among the many actors in this film whose portfolios include absolutely nothing else and it shows. Their argument escalates to a hilariously over-acted outburst with Bev breaking into sobs and finally screaming, “YOU'VE RUINED MY WHOLE DAY!!!”

To continue providing a meaningful synopsis of this movie would be virtually impossible without this review spanning at least five pages. Unbelievably, “Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars” boasts eight (yes, eight) main characters who are all given equal screen time. A score of side characters are also examined. To make matters worse, this is all squeezed into a mere 85 minutes.

Causing even more confusion is the movie's approach to telling its multifaceted story. “Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars” is less a cohesive movie than it is a compilation of “chapters” about the main characters' lives. This structure is comparable to the structure of the 1994 classic “Pulp Fiction,” except with double the main characters and half the screen time.

So, what happens when you take an exorbitant amount of characters, an unnecessarily complex storyline about a personified vacuum cleaner and attempt to squeeze it into 85 minutes? I'll tell you: absolute cinematic carnage. There is not one moment during this movie where each aspect in a scene makes sense. In fact, there is not one moment that truly makes sense. Period. Throughout your first viewing of “Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars,” your mind will be ripe with questions about what is unraveling before your eyes. Singular statements of logic can destroy half of the subplots in this movie. (I guess that makes sense, since “ORFM” does take place in a world where the police will take you seriously if you report that you've been raped by a vacuum cleaner).

“Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars”'s sense of humor is also a great example of its trademark cognitive dissonance. I can't recall a single joke in this movie that is “conventionally delivered” or not extraordinarily ridiculous. As Zeke and I watched this film together, certain jokes that went right over my head resonated with him in huge ways and vice versa. Hell, I could picture the entire movie going right over peoples' heads and its 2.5 rating on IMDB proves that. Nonetheless, there is a certain aspect of “Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars” that I need to point out explicitly, an aspect that I believe a lot of people overlook: it is always fully aware of itself.

"Hey man, this car is sweet, but I
could get you a new car!" "...Could
you get me a vacuum cleaner?"
"Well, hell yeah, my man!"

How can a movie as ridiculous as I've just described not be perfectly self-aware? “Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars” is stupid in such a bizarre way that it's difficult not to enjoy it. The movie has integrity far beyond what a few casual viewings would establish. As mad-libbish as the entire premise is, the movie sticks to its million subplots with the dedication of a monk. “Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars” does not merely eschew conventional standards out of sheer incompetence; rather, “ORFM” seems to relish its flaws and bask in the glory of its utter imperfection.

Make no mistake about it: “Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars” is a challenging watch. This review only covers a fraction of the weirdness contained within, and if what I've described alone is enough to deter you, your brain is not ready for “Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars.”

Award time! Yeah, I know it's only been 2 weeks since the last award, but our schedule didn't really allow us any way to fix this. Whatever. Anyway, Cinemartyr is proud to give "Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars" the ever-culturally-relevant "Downright Disorienting" award. This particular award is only given to films that are such insane feats of non-realism that they excuse themselves from conventional critique. Congratulations!