Galaxis Reviews

A great deal of this film's miniscule budget went into dressing up its special effects and dressing down Ms. Nielsen. Since set models resemble a futuristic Lionel Train station, GALAXIS wisely focuses on Brigitte's statuesque physique wrapped in tight leather. Some screen spectacles are purely the provenance of Mother Nature. In a STAR WARS-wannabe opener, planet Centauri is besieged by vile tyrant Kyla (Richard Moll) who covets the inhabitants' powerful "Sacred Crystal." Slaying noble leader Tarkin (Craig Fairbass) and palming the gem, Kyla must pit himself against Tarkin's tough sister Ladera (Brigitte Nielsen) for a second crystal, which has been in the custody of the Incas on Earth. The mayhem moves, economically, to 1990s Earth, where a poor man's Indiana Jones named Jed (John H. Brennan) has entrusted the collectible crystal to a pal who soon gets fried by Kyla. Jed must stay one step ahead of Kyla, investigating cops, and Victor (Fred Asparagus) a cartoony gangster outraged that Jed has rescinded their Inca antique deal. Teaming with Ladera, Jed escapes Kyla's zapping long enough to trace the missing thingamabob to the Chinese mob. Ladera and Jed escape with their hot property, but face showdowns with Victor and Kyla in one of those vast, abandoned steelworks so common to Z-action movies. Though defeated almost simultaneously, the dual villains after the same artifact never do meet each other, oddly enough; perhaps their bloodcurdling overacting combined would chew up not only the cardboard scenery but entire distant galaxies. As sci-fi spacehunts go, this is a cumbersome rumble with average demolition effects on earth, and less impressive eye-dazzlers in space; the disappointing visuals were overseen by debuting director William Mesa, acclaimed for his effects work on THE FUGITIVE and UNDER SIEGE. Up on Centauri the extras look as if they just wandered in from the set of BECKETT. Why do art directors and costumers think the future is going to be overrun with 12th century revivalists? A bigger question is why anyone would endure this tedious World Wrestling Federation bout between Amazonian Nielsen and hambone Moll. Neither Kyla's nor Ladera's superpowers are clearly delineated. One moment they're firing death rays through their fingers, the next they're slugging it out. Despite her robotic emoting, Nielsen gives space-cadet viewers something to look at as they deal with their arrested development. She enables one to sexualize and replay Commander Cody fantasies of boyhood. There should be a Brigitte on every spacecraft. (Violence, profanity, substance abuse.)