Everyone knows The Flaming Lips as those self-proclaimed fearless freaks, purveyors of weird in any and all forms and makers of sublime music. What may come as a surprise is the fact that, for the past six years, they've also been amateur filmmakers. Their new film, "Christmas on Mars," lives up to most people's expectations: It's bizarre. Wholeheartedly a B-movie, it is one that recognizes and embraces its own faults and limitations, yet remains ambitious, striving to touch upon themes of despair, isolation, hope and religion. The result is a depressing yet hilarious, disturbing yet heartwarming film that seasoned critics will hate, but fans of the band and low-budget films will love.
As the title so effectively suggests, the film takes place on Mars at Christmas time -- though it's a bit more complicated than that. Humanity has successfully landed a crew on the red planet as a sort of colonization mission. The program, however, is dwindling, and there is virtually no support for the stranded crew aside from what they provide for themselves. As despair takes over, Major Syrtis (played by Steven Drozd) tries to organize a Christmas pageant coinciding with the birth of the first colonist baby and to raise hope in the face of growing madness.
The main reason the film works so well is its unique "production value." The Flaming Lips are an extremely clever bunch, and with "no real actors, no budget" and cameras that aren't much better than what one has at home, they've managed to cobble together an extremely cohesive space station. Abandoned warehouses, sets in their own house and backyard, and the dusty plains of Texas and Oklahoma somehow all come together to form an environment that, even if not convincing, is wholly engrossing. Though the recognition of ordinary objects adapted to space props is initially amusing, by the close of the film the audience is completely convinced of the illusion.
The sets themselves are well thought-out and very effective in conveying the isolation and claustrophobia that comes with living in space. The mostly black-and-white filming contributes to the overall sense of dread and provides a jarring contrast from the brief moments of bright color.
There is also some visual trickery afoot, thanks to the advent of cheap home video editing software becoming available during the filming process. None of it is terribly astounding, and in fact it is used only sparsely, mainly during the opening and closing sequences (these are where the word "trippy" is applicable). Be warned, though: "Christmas on Mars" contains what is likely the most creative, hilarious and disturbing use of female genitalia of any movie ever created.
Behind the scenes is a wonderful score, and no, it's not just a collection of random Flaming Lips songs. With arrangements that range from sparse and foreboding, a la "There Will Be Blood" (2007), to grand, rich and orchestral, the soundtrack succeeds in every way, adding suspense here, gravity there and joy elsewhere. It really can't be considered anything other than masterful.
As inventive as it is, both visually and aurally, the film does have one problem: its performances. Simply put, they're stilted, awkward and very straightforward, leaving little to be analyzed. Out of the main cast, only Drozd is convincing in his role as a desperate and slightly insane crew member, and singer Wayne Coyne makes a fine silent Martian. The rest deliver their lines with enthusiasm, but without emotional depth, proper timing or any acting chops whatsoever. But part of the film's charm is its embracement of low production values and bad acting. One of the amazing things about it is its ability to shift from a comically bad scene into a mesmerizing and emotional one, a technique that occurs frequently throughout the film.
Though it may approach some serious issues and attempt a mood similar to films such as "Eraserhead" (1977), "Christmas on Mars" is not a film to be taken completely seriously. Coyne and company were certainly aware of this fact, as evidenced by the habitually shirtless redneck captain, among other things. Audiences will find further levity in the cast's familiar faces: SNL's Fred Armisen, Adam Goldberg (aka The Hebrew Hammer) and Steve Burns ("Blue's Clues").
In the end, though, the Lips do make their mark. "Christmas on Mars" is an endearing effort, one whose philosophical ruminations never prevent it from its primary purpose, which is to entertain. And entertain it does, to a wonderful degree. So strap on some alien antennae and prepare for a confrontation of cosmic reality, Flaming Lips style.
