(1978) Directed by John De Bello; Written by Costa Dillon, John De Bello and J. Stephen Peace; Starring: Cindy Charles, David Miller, Eric Christmas, J. Stephen Peace and Sharon Taylor; Available on Blu-ray and DVD
Rating: ***
“…People often ask me how did I come up with this idea for killer tomatoes, and I can actually remember, they used to show Saturday afternoon science fiction/horror movies on regular TV before cable, watching Attack of the Mushroom People, a wonderful Japanese film that I later determined was not a documentary… It was supposed to be a horror movie, and I thought what could actually be sillier than that – mushroom people? And for some reason tomatoes popped up first.” – Costa Dillon (co-writer/actor) (from 2003 DVD commentary)
The 1970s were the golden era of disaster and “nature strikes back” movies, making audiences afraid to visit skyscrapers, go to the beach, or enjoy a transatlantic cruise. During that tumultuous decade, virtually anything that could be exploited as a threat was depicted on the silver screen, no matter how unlikely or ridiculous. If sharks, rats, rabbits and even worms could pose a threat to humanity’s existence, then why not common household produce? Taking this loopy premise to its illogical conclusion, director/co-writer John De Bello and his partners in crime set out to produce their disaster comedy on an estimated budget of $90,000.*
* Fun Fact #1: The helicopter crash featured in the movie
was the real thing. The individuals involved in the crash thankfully walked
away (and even managed some ad libs), so the filmmakers kept the scene in the
film. De Bello joked that the wrecked helicopter cost more than the rest of the
movie.
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes is not so much a story as a string of gags. Following several unprovoked attacks on U.S. citizens, the country’s top minds assemble to assess the emerging tomato threat.* They enlist bumbling federal investigator Mason Dixon (David Miller) accompanied by his equally inept sidekick Lt. Wilbur Finletter (played by co-writer J. Stephen Peace), to help stamp out the red menace. ** They’re followed by a snooping reporter (Sharon Taylor), who’s egged on by her editor to use her feminine wiles to get a scoop. When things appear to be at their worst, the authorities discover a novel solution to combat the tomato menace: an insipid pop song*** that proves to be lethal (If this sounds familiar, the idea was recycled, either intentionally or via the collective unconscious, by Tim Burton in 1996’s Mars Attacks!). For the climactic showdown at San Diego Stadium (now Qualcomm Stadium), the filmmakers must have called everyone they knew (and probably pulled some random folks off the street), including a cameo by the famous San Diego Chicken mascot.
* Fun Fact #2: If the scene where the government officials gather in an impossibly tiny, cramped room looks familiar, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. De Bello admitted that he copied a scene from the Marx Brothers classic, A Night at the Opera (1935).
** Fun Fact #3: For the scenes where tomatoes needed to splat against glass, the filmmakers used boiled tomatoes.
*** Fun Fact #4: The infectiously awful song “Puberty Love”
was sung by a young Matt Cameron (listed in the credits as “Foo” Cameron), who
went on to become the drummer for Soundgarden and Pearl Jam.
The comedic elements in the movie (ranging from the merely tasteless to downright offensive) are of the “let’s throw it at the wall and see what sticks” variety, so it’s inevitably a hit-and-miss affair. While the jokes never quite rise above sophomoric, the obnoxious junior high schooler in me still finds parts of it funny (like the war cry of the angry tomatoes, which at least to my ears, sounds like an incoherent, meth-addled Porky Pig). Another inspired gag is a Japanese scientist (Paul Oya) whose voice is badly dubbed (a nod to kaiju films that played on TV in the ‘60s and ‘70s). In one of the best moments, a government spy (Gary Smith) infiltrates the tomatoes’ command center, disguised as a tomato, but makes a fatal error by asking for someone to pass the ketchup. And who can forget the earworm-worthy title song? Rest easy, because even if you don’t want it there, it’ll be firmly planted in your brain. Unsurprisingly, not all the jokes have worn well. The aforementioned Japanese scientist becomes the butt of a Pearl Harbor joke, there’s an East German female athlete who imbibes steroids, and a homophobic slur is used as a punchline.
* Fun Fact #5: Twin Peaks fans will want to keep an eye out for a very young Dana Ashbrook in a sailboat scene.
** Fun Fact #6: The explosions for the film were created by
special effects professional Greg Auer, who lent his talents to numerous
projects, including Star Wars, The Hills Have Eyes, and Carrie.
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes has an undeserved reputation for being one of the “worst” movies ever made, but it’s not even close. To paraphrase Roger Ebert, the worst sin a movie can commit is to be boring. Given the “everything but the kitchen sink”* approach, this movie is far from dull (Scatterbrained, amateurish and puerile, but not boring). Some movies, such as this one can’t be labeled “good” and “bad,” but something in-between that defies categorization. Considering the modest budget and slapped-together nature of the film, applying the same metric as one would to Oppenheimer or Lawrence of Arabia to evaluate Attack of the Killer Tomatoes doesn’t seem to be quite fair.* If nothing else, John De Bello’s film, was ahead of its time, warning us about the perils of genetically modified organisms. It spawned three belated sequels, but consider the first movie the last word in homicidal fruit.
* Note: For those keeping score, a kitchen sink is featured prominently in the opening scene.
** Nonsensical Tangent: While I’m on the subject of “good” and “bad” films, why are terrible (albeit fun) movies often called “The Citizen Kane of bad movies?” Shouldn’t they be compared to similarly entertaining bad films (i.e., “The Plan 9 from Outer Space of bad movies”)?
Source for this article: MVD Blu-ray commentary by John De
Bello, Costa Dillon and J. Steve Peace (2003)
