It’s always good, some foreign color in the movies I see. Evil. Violent Shit. Blodaren. America just doesn’t have it, sometimes. Sometimes it’s up to England. America’s just sometimes not up to par with some of the hues you see abroad—red, orange, yellow, green…blue. I’m blue. Blue, billowing like the colors of a flag—or like the color of alien vomit. Vomit can billow, right?
All in all, it’s not easy being a writer. Especially when you’re dealing with something from another land. I’ve got the blues. I’ve got The Nimrod Blues.
Andy is, I assume, the titular nimrod. He lives in a small apartment surrounded by sci-fi junk, and writes comics. He strives to be an artist but it looks like he may not have what it takes. If anything, it’s because he’s a loser. He plays Xbox. He smokes joints. He watches Star Trek. (Though no Trek episode I’ve ever seen features the robotic delivery of the line, “Watch out! He’s got a ray gun!” Then again, I’ve only mainly seen TOS.) And, he orders pizza. Unfortunately, the new guy down at “Pizza Snacks” (no Noid here, folks) chops up an alien to finish Andy’s dinner. Upon eating it, he begins to have the pukes, which culminates in another alien popping up in his vomit (shades of The Abomination!) Later on, just minutes before his next script is due, the rubber monster attacks him, thankfully supported by the off-camera hand (shades of Devil Ant!) Biological mysteries are posited when it seems as if the velociraptor-like alien seems to be all head—but I digress! It’s all in the name of fun.
And that’s an apt statement indeed! For, all in all, this movie is just fun. No revelations of the universe are revealed—no cosmic secrets are granted on the user to use as he or she so desires, to create a kingdom and a land of plenty. The alien is great. I have a puppet which I made in fifth grade that was supposed to be of a troll, or a goblin, or something—and the alien reminds me greatly of said puppet. The goop is very cringe-worthy (though not on the same “Oh God why” disgust-scale of Ozone! Attack of the Redneck Mutants) and it looks very good for a literal no-budget film.
The entire thing runs about fifteen minutes. I wish there had been more, genuinely. Alien Apocalypse? Perhaps an explanation of the aliens themselves? More “angry Scottish boss” pizza place hijinks? The budget serves as an anchor—it keeps the whole mess docked, but also stops it from moving. We have to come to a halt. And that is perhaps the movie’s only flaw.
Aside from that, we have pure, wonderful no-budget nonsense. When looking for that sort of film—homemade, uncut, sci-fi fan love letters—you can’t go much further than this one. Enjoy.
By the way, quick story—I was on Facebook. A friend of mine was going to Ireland. I commented on her status for her to bring me back some haggis, like an idiot. A bunch of angry Britons, Scotsmen, and Irishmen descended on me to beat me up for confusing a Scottish product with an Irish one. Never again. Though I do wonder if Pizza Snacks sells haggis pizza. I would pay good pounds for that.