Alien Trespass

At the climax of "Alien Trespass," we watch a movie audience watching the climax of an alien monster movie in which another audience watching another alien monster movie runs amok when the theater is attacked by an alien monster, just at the very moment that the audience we are watching is attacked by . . . are you still with me?

This screwy, hall-of-mirrors windup is almost too clever by half for a no-brainer that wants nothing more than to re-create the pre-irony, shoestring-budget innocence of '50s sci-fi movies. The flying saucer here, with its familiar inverted salad-bowl look and cunning recessed lighting, is strictly the Montgomery Ward knockoff of the model that would be digitalized to a fare-thee-well for "Race to Witch Mountain."

R.W. Goodwin's valentine to such Technicolor-saturated chestnuts as "Destination Moon" and "The War of the Worlds" wears its heart on its starched sleeve, splashing the screen with ripe hues that make every scene resemble one of those campy greeting cards pitched to baby boomers in late-midlife crisis.

Set in 1957, an earnest, pipe-smoking astronomer (Eric McCormack) and a Playboy-worthy waitress (Jenni Baird) who paints horse portraits in her off hours think they see a shooting star. Of course, it's really a spaceship. The only witnesses are two teens. Cue the one-eyed, tentacled creature whose appetite could mean the end of civilization and wiseacre cops who sneer at the local fraidy-cats.

The Canadian-produced "Alien Trespass" feeds off the eternal appetite for seeing stupid skeptics get their just deserts.

Those who fondly recall "The Blob" would seem to be the target crowd for a fastidious pastiche that attempts to coax laughs by maintaining a poker face.

--Jan Stuart (April 3, 2009)

Contains sci-fi action and brief historical smoking.