Son of Blob
Our rating: two LAVA® motion lamps.
Dubbed by some wags as "the film J.R. shot," Son of Blob takes place during that weird, wonderful time when the Sixties changed into the Seventies. Drug use passed from the exclusive domain of naive mind-voyagers and became the province of blissed-out idiots, and the colorful fashions of the one decade began to mutate into the eye shredding fashions of the next. Okay, maybe nothing much changed, but it sure seemed that way. It's amazing what a difference a "7" can make.
Our film begins as a scientist named Chester brings a piece of the blob back from the arctic wastes where it was left at the end of The Blob. Naturally, the scientists wife accidentally defrosts the piece, and soon the mini-blob is loose. After eating a fly, a cute widdle kitten, and the wife (from insects to large mammals in mere minutes!), the rapidly growing blob ambushes Chester in his leatherette easy chair. At this point we had to applaud the blobs taste, because Chester, who guzzles beer from a flower vase, is wearing orange pants. For the love of God, orange pants!
Speaking of odious comic relief, Son of Blob features a near epic performance by Richard Stahl as the owner of the local bowling alley. Stahl has made a career out of playing officious authorities, like the head of the city council in Billy Jack, or the bank official who does a credit check on Steve Martin in L.A. Story. Watch! as he tries to convince the sheriff to arrest our heroes for sideswiping him! Thrill! as he tries to place them under "citizen's arrest!" Wonder! why he has such a large part!
For bad movie gourmands such as ourselves, Son of Blob is actually a pleasure, because it fills so many basic b-movie watching needs: a rampaging monster, embarrassing celebrity cameos, stupid drug humor, and some spectacularly goofy death scenes. A particular favorite is the demise of a wheelchair-bound priest, who holds aloft his decorated cross before being absorbed by the pink goo. This takes place in the climactic bowling alley scene -- you just have to love any movie that has a climactic bowling alley scene -- and was such a powerful moment that, during B-Fest 2000, caused a Marine sergeant to leap out of his chair and howl in appreciation. Verily, Son of Blob's b-movie nutritive value far exceeds the recommended daily allowance.
Such considerations are minor, however, when compared to the bizarre events that take place on screen during the film, including but not limited to:
- Cindy Williams as a stoned-to-the-gills party girl, testing the acoustics of a storm drainpipe with her guitar-wielding boyfriend.
- Bud Cort as a motor-mouthed druggie with a craving for ice cream, who ends up gorging himself at the bowling alley's soda shop.
Normally we'd give a film such as this just one LAVA® motion lamp, because it is so excruciatingly awful. But watching it inspires the same sort of fascination as a head-on train collision might. Son of Blob is the sort of film for which bad movie sites are made. For this sort of entertainment, which flies in the face of good filmmaking, good taste, and good sense, we award it a second lamp -- filled with red goo, appropriately enough.