The Lucifer Complex (1979)

Dirs: David L. Hewitt, Kenneth Hartford

Scr: David L. Hewitt, Dale Skillicorn

Executive Producer: James T. Flocker

Cast: Robert Vaughn, Merrie Lynn Ross, Keenan Wynn, Aldo Ray

I first saw The Lucifer Complex on late night TV, paired with  Invasion From Inner Earth (reviewed here), which made for an unforgettable double feature of Grade Z movie badness. (Of course, both of these movies are offered up on Mill Creek's movie pack sets.)

Over the years, Invasion from Inner Earth has grown on me. And as for The Lucifer Complex? Uh-uh. After "taking one for the team" and rewatching it for review on this site, it is still the lifeless mess that I remembered. 

Gold Key Entertainment, who possessed the uncanny ability to find the most inert genre fare, added this title to its package of films sold for television. This, and other Gold Key wonders like Captive, Target Earth? and Ghosts That Still Walk, would be banished to the witching hours as late-night TV filler that would usually lull even the most ardent insomniac channel surfer to sleep. 

For The Lucifer Complex, someone had lying around a (presumably) unfinished, dreary espionage adventure, featuring Robert Vaughn, in a sorry attempt to recall The Man From UNCLE, as he foils a Neo-Nazi plot to clone world leaders, with the help of some women prisoners who are held captive for experimentation (or something). And then in order to make it feature-length, someone else shot a wraparound story of a man on a south Pacific island (presumably the last survivor of this planet) who has the history of mankind preserved on these disks that can be watched with a laser stylus (predating laserdisc technology by a few years). Twenty solid irritating minutes of stock footage and the man's dreary voiceover occur before our main story, as he watches moments from World War II, and Woodstock (well, not really- it's someone called The Edward Kelly Band) before watching the movie we're about to see. 

And not that the Vaughn footage is any great shakes. It is an equally insufferable task to view this smeary dreck with dismal attempts at suspense. Even a sudden third act change to "women's prison" conventions fails to light any sparks. Its sole novelty is the revelation that the mastermind behind this plot is none other than Adolf Hitler in an attempt to start the Fourth Reich! Otherwise the only other memorable moment is the inevitable, dramatically ironic moment when Vaughn faces his own clone. In an inspired bit of bad filmmaking, the two Vaughns fight... in a shot that is so underexposed that you can't see either one of them! 

And forget about the inclusion of Keenan Wynn, Aldo Ray and (uncredited) Leo Gordon: their roles are just stupid, glorified cameos. The story becomes anticlimactic, and more so with the tacked-on wraparound footage of the sole man watching the other film. It adds nothing but running time.

If nothing else, this film provides a tantalizing mystery to solve, as it involves a holy trinity of Grade Z moviemakers behind the camera: David L. Hewitt (auteur of such 60s microbudget fare as Wizard Of Mars and The Mighty Gorga), Kenneth Hartford (Monstroid) and James T. Flocker (Ground Zero, Ghosts That Still Walk).  One wonders which footage each was responsible for, especially Dave Hewitt. Despite the shortcomings of his previous work, he could at least be commended for attempting to make something ambitious out of little means. My gut tells me that he may have been responsible for the Nazi prison footage, as it feels similar to his work in 1971's The Tormentors, but I can't be sure. But the fascination quickly evaporates as one sits in front of this mess. 

The Lucifer Complex is just kind that movie that would be banished to the 2AM time slot, or the back of a mom and pop video store (ie - the video box art above, from its VHS release by United Home Video), or on mega-movie DVD sets like this, foisting the familiar names of Robert Vaughn, Aldo Ray and Keenan Wynn, enticing one to take a chance. Enter if you dare.

MMM Rating: 1/5

Located on: Suspense Classics (now out of print, but still for sale on the web), and Mad Scientist Theater. Enter if you dare.