- Original theatrical poster - image courtesy of ImpAwards
As the golden year of 1939 was to Hollywood, so was the prolific 1958 to the science fiction B film, and in that context, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is easily some sort of equivalent to Citizen Kane. Frequently raked over the coals for its minimal plotting and unmistakably cheap special effects (some of the most hilarious in movie history, says industry mainstay Leonard Maltin), the film has nevertheless amassed a sizable following (no pun intended) over the past half-century, eschewing “so bad it’s good” justifications of popularity and indicating a genuine affection held by many for its kinky charms.
Many – myself included – are positively endeared to it, and not simply because it’s so thinly budgeted that you can see right through it—literally so at times. Warts and all, it’s a genuinely entertaining exercise in the admittedly narrow dysfunctional-couple-meets-aliens genre, the rampage promised by the title ultimately standing as practically an afterthought, not commencing until the final ten minutes or so.
What transpires until then is a delectable clashing of the genders, which, along with that year’s I Married a Monster from Outer Space, made 1958 something of an unofficial backlash against the casual sexism that had so frequently marked the genre. It’s surprising that it hasn’t been more fully embraced by feminists. Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman, especially one who could avoid a divorce altogether by merely stepping on you.
Few would criticize Nancy Archer (Allison Hayes) for carrying out such an execution, she a wealthy woman recently released from a mental hospital, having been driven to despair by her lecherous husband Harry (William Hudson), who has since swallowed his pride and attempted to mend their relationship on the selfish basis of needing further access to her finances. She senses his insincerity and suspects infidelity (practically everyone in town knows about his affair with Honey, an exquisitely trashy Yvette Vickers), but her self-esteem is so low that she’ll grasp at whatever straws of possibility he cruelly presents to her.
When Nancy comes face to face with an extra-terrestrial satellite roving the desert outside of town, no one believes her story on account of her past instability and alcoholism, despite the fact that she’s been sober for some time. There’s nothing doing against stigma, however, and her hysterical proclamations give Harry the notion of having her committed once and for all, leaving he and Honey free to take the money and run. A second encounter with the spacecraft and the bald giant piloting it foils that plan. Affected by some manner of alien technology, Nancy grows overnight to King Kong size, eventually breaking free to hunt down her adulterous spouse.
Though it frequently wears its miniscule budget on its sleeves (not that it had much of a choice in the matter; despite being unhappy with the final product, the producing studio refused additional funds to improve on the effects work), Attack of the 50 Foot Woman nevertheless feels strangely complete, despite its obvious shortcomings.
Projected effects, including the alien and a rampaging Nancy (who fluctuates between 20 to roughly 80 feet in height, depending on the shot), are moderately transparent, while an oversized rubber hand frequently stands in for the giantess when she occupies the shot with the comparatively height challenged. As an acquired taste, these technical non-achievements aren’t so much funny as charming, but they’re just the icing on the cake.
Appropriately hokey, the consistently overstated performances lend the film the kind of metaphorical vividness this larger than life scenario calls for, but there’s also a surprisingly thorough consideration of character uncommon to these ultra cheap quickies (this one was thrown together to capitalize on the success of The Amazing Colossal Man, debuting just seven months after that film).
Supporting players, notably Deputy Charlie (an amusing Frank Chase), are given memorable asides that suggest complete personalities, while also making the film’s meager 65 minutes feel like more than the protracted concept it really is. If you want proof of the film’s place in history, look for the cameo Quentin Tarantino afforded it in Pulp Fiction. There’s art to be found here, no matter how wanting it may seem at first glance.
Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. Dir. Nathan H. Juran. Perf. Allison Hayes, William Hudson, Yvette Vickers, Roy Gordon, George Douglas, Ken Terrell, Michael Ross, Frank Chase. Allied Artists, 1958. Running Time: 65 min.
