By KEVIN HOOVER
Nowhere else but in the confines of cinema do the distinctions of “best in class” and “worst ever” function in such sweet synchronicity. One, a golden star that challenges the perceptions of those of us who want to be on the cusp of trendy, curious to see if our personal tastes have matured to the point of being able to appreciate the crème de la crème of the movie house. The other, a wretched little vermin of a thing that scratches at the morbid fascination nested in the recesses of our wonderment: can something be so bad, as to be the literal worst ever? In the case of Ed Wood’s PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE, once dubiously earmarked as the “Worst Film Ever Made,” the answer is a resounding, “not by a long shot.”
Wood’s filmography is punctuated by eccentricities that only he dared dream, but the boldest typeset falls squarely on PLAN 9. For it is in the mind of Ed Wood that a yarn about ghouls and aliens working together to save humankind from itself makes any sense. But there’s a magnetism to the madness, and for the curious and critic alike, consider Dana Gould your pied piper to the gloriousness of PLAN 9.
Few historians can draw a line between themselves and the film in a way that Gould can. Regarded for his work on The Simpsons and as creator of the horror-comedy series Stan Against Evil, it’s his personal friendship with Maila Nurmi–known to the world as the timeless goth starlet Vampira and starring as PLAN 9’s “Ghoul Gal”– that positions the comedian/writer as an authoritative voice on the subject. To this day, Gould hosts an annual staged performance of PLAN 9, and he recently wrote the foreword for the Bret Nelson-penned novelization (Encyclopocalypse Publications). Gould took time to share his reverence for the film–and for his friend Maila–with RUE MORGUE.
Dana Gould holding one of the screen-used spaceship models from PLAN 9.
Looking back to PLAN 9 when it released in ’59, this was supposed to be Wood’s magnum opus. It far exceeded, maybe, his talent–most definitely his bankroll. And it came out at a time when films like Ben-Hur, North by Northwest and other blockbusters did. So, it kind of languished in midnight movie obscurity.
It’s amazing–the story of the movie–in that it rose from the dead.
Do you remember the first time you saw it?
Yes! I knew about it long before I saw it because I was a Famous Monsters magazine kid. I was certainly aware of it, and I was aware of Vampira just from Famous Monsters. My mother would reference Vampira a lot, which is weird because I grew up in Massachusetts, not out in Los Angeles. But she was sort of a national figure. So, I knew it was a movie and I knew what the pictures looked like from the magazine, but I hadn’t seen it. Then when I moved to Boston and started my career as a stand-up comedian in ’83 or ’84, it was my friends, Bob(cat) Goldthwait and Tom Kenney (the voice actor behind SpongeBob SquarePants), who were like, “You have to see PLAN 9. It’s not what you think it is.” I saw it in the perfect way–on a VHS tape in a crappy apartment with the two funniest people I knew. And I loved it from the first frame. I think the special appeal that PLAN 9 has where movies like (Phil Tucker’s) Robot Monster doesn’t is that while they’re both entertaining, PLAN 9 is for people that don’t take themselves seriously. Catherine Coldiron, who wrote a monograph about PLAN 9, said part of the film’s appeal is that it’s a bad movie that thinks it’s doing great.
PLAN 9 was meta before meta was cool, right? The whole “humankind is the real monster, and we should be concerned about the future, because we’re capable of its undoing” vibe–what a way to demolish that fourth wall.
Perfectly put. And you know, the plot isn’t bad. It was made for about a dollar and a half, but that was the interesting thing about Ed Wood. The better example is Glen or Glenda, which was shot around ’52. The message of Glen or Glenda is one of tolerance and understanding, and for transgender people back in the early ‘50s, that’s really heavy. I was talking to Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, who wrote the movie Ed Wood. They said that if they were to abandon the reality of it, they would have ended with him making Glen or Glenda.
Part of the fun is in the film’s … let’s call ‘em aesthetic qualities. As you’d mentioned, there’s a very solid story if you can just look past Wood’s use of the same shower curtain in what was probably three different scenes.
(The cast and crew) didn’t think it was bad–they were playing it straight as a heart attack. Even Maila. The reason she didn’t have any dialogue was that when she read the script, she said, “What if I was just mute?”
A couple of friends turned you on to it, but if you were trying to convince someone else to watch, what’s your approach?
The way I always describe it is that everything is perfectly wrong, and it never gets repetitive. Like a great movie or a real comedy, it continues adding new things. Just when you think they’re out of ideas–bam! Dudley Manlove shows up. It never runs out of ideas and it’s endlessly entertaining. I love to put it on and watch people watch it.
BAM! Dudley Manlove as alien invader Eros.
As it relates to Ed Wood, you’d be hard-pressed to find a sadder story. PLAN 9 doesn’t really find its footing until the ‘80s, and it gets big for reasons that maybe he wouldn’t have liked.
When did he die, ’78? By that time, he would’ve been happy for any attention. His ending was not great. Alcoholism is a disease and it’s a pernicious one. Something I loved about the biopic is that it goes out on a high note. They’re like, “We’re not going to talk about the downward spiral.”
Had he lived longer, or was still living, do you think he’d have been appreciative of the film’s notoriety? It was, after all, considered one of the worst films ever made.
I was talking to someone who knew him in the ‘70s, and they said he would hang a sheet and show it on Halloween. He was very proud of PLAN 9, and no, it clearly isn’t the worst film ever made. In the PLAN 9 companion, a film critic says, “The worst crime a film can commit is to be boring, and PLAN 9 is never boring.”
You and Mick Garris chatted a few years back on his Post Mortem podcast, during which you discussed your friendship with Maila Nurmi (Vampira). You even penned a tribute to her within the pages of RUE MORGUE (#77). On the Garris show, you mentioned that you were almost cast in a de facto caregiver role towards the end of her life.
Not almost. (smiles). This was someone who I had a lot of admiration for, and then I found myself in a position where I’m stopping by to make sure she’s paid her phone bill.
Within that same episode, you recalled taking her to a screening of the film. When she made her first on-camera appearance, you stated she said, “There she is.”
The place went nuts! It must’ve been a 1996 (Hollywood-based) Cinerama Dome showing on Halloween or the night before, and I took her. It was packed. I thought it was amazing that people had no idea she was sitting right there with them. I loved being able to watch her, to watch that.
PLAN 9’s “Ghoul Gal” Vampira
Even though she never utters a word, you get the impression that she’s treating this role like it was the most important thing she’s ever done.
I can tell you that was not the case.
Well, what did she think of it?
She was doing it for the money, and she didn’t think anything would ever come of it. But she was a pro, 100%. She was working, and she gave it her all.
Maila gave me a lot of advice. From when I met her, my career and my life changed drastically over the course of our relationship. I got married. I had kids. I had a TV show. She said, “Nobody knows anything. It’s all just opinions, so do your work and be proud of what you put your name on.” The reason Vampira was not a carbon copy of Morticia Addams was because she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to copy something, so she went away and made it unique.
While many share your appreciation of PLAN 9, few have the same personal connection with it as yourself. What perspective do you want readers to walk away from this interview with?
In this era, we’re so obsessed with success in terms of financial and box office success; it’s like the Netflix algorithm is the only audience worth chasing. People say that the United States doesn’t have a universal religion. We do: It’s called capitalism.
PLAN 9 is not for everybody. It’s completely DIY. There’s no computer stuff. It’s beautiful in its own very inept way. It’s like folk art. It’s beautiful, and if you don’t like it, it doesn’t care. You can’t get more of this.
Keep up-to-date with Dana Gould’s touring schedule, including his live screenings of PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE, on his website. Order the film’s novelization from Encyclopocalypse Publications.
