What is it that attracts a person
to want to live and work on something as remote as an oil rig? I’m sure there is any number of “Reality”
shows detailing the lives of people compelled to choose a life of solitude, from
long-haul truckers to fur trappers in Antarctica and everything in
between. But we’re not using them as
exemplars, because one, that would make this a very short introduction (and
something of a mercy, I’m sure), and two, anyone who believes what they see on
such shows should be discounted from the conversation to begin with, in my
opinion. I tend to think that, outside
of those people looking to run away from their problems and responsibilities
(real, imagined, or illegal) or those who choose the high risk lifestyle simply
for the payout, there are some who do jobs like this out of some form of
romanticism. They chase after a sort of
nobility that can only be found in testing themselves against the elements,
against nature, and even (I’m sure in no small part) against themselves. Coming out the other side, they’re transformed,
maybe for the better, maybe for the worse, but they certainly become a
different person from where they started.
It’s the journey of life, concentrated.
None of us (or maybe just few) will die the same exact person we were
born, but the change is gradual. For the
vast majority, it takes decades to arrive at our death beds. The hastening of the metamorphosis, the
flirtation with the quickness of death from jobs such as these, I suppose in
some ways adds onto your life. Not in
quantity of years, surely, but in quality more likely than not. And then, I’m sure, there are folks who would
try it for a week and just say “screw this crap.” Just something to think about.
Jake (Chad Everett) is the boss man on an oil rig somewhere near the
South Pole. Toiling away with his crew,
drilling at extreme depths on the orders of on-site geologist and Zortron Oil
lackey Scott (Joseph Bottoms), the
gang dredge up an odd batch of samples; small rocks unlike any the team have ever
seen. As various characters come in
contact with the stones, the rocks begin to reveal their true nature. It all builds up to…some kind of climax.
Peter Carter’s The Intruder
Within (aka The Lucifer Rig, and
which started its journey to its “Friday Night Movie” slot on ABC under the
title Panic Offshore) was spawned in the wakes of both Jaws and Alien. While it does take
things from both, it certainly steals far more from Ridley Scott’s film than Steven
Spielberg’s. Generally, the
ambience, the escalation of the conflict between the protagonist and
antagonist, and the water-logged setting are the shark film’s contributions. On the cosmic film’s end, you have the
working class men isolated from civilization angle (actually, this one is
shared by both). You have an alien being
(though from within the ocean’s floor rather than the depths of space) that
riffs (and largely fails, though if you were a kid watching this for the first
time, you’d be impressed, trust me) on the late, great H.R. Giger’s groundbreaking Xenomorph design. You have the (semi-) heroic woman in the form
of Collette (Jennifer Warren). You have the corporate minion more interested
in the possibilities in exploiting the threat than in the welfare of the
crew. You have the impregnation of a
character with a monstrous embryo. The
list literally goes on. I can’t say precisely
when Alien made its television
premier, but The Intruder Within
cashed in completely on the craze the former film had created. It just did it in ways that were more
palatable (read: friendly to the network’s Standards and Practices department)
to a family-oriented audience, though (kind of surprisingly) not entirely
without teeth (of some form or another).
One of the sharpest divides
between this film and its 1979 forebear is in its treatment of sex and
sexuality. In Alien, you see the characters in their skivvies, but outside of
that there’s really no romantic subplot, and to my recollection, no love scenes
at all. The Intruder Within takes a different tack. Robyn (Lynda
Mason Green) is the pretty, young bookkeeper aboard the rig (I assume; her
job description is nebulous at best, but she never mans the drill, so…). The first time we see her, she complains
about the cold and says she’s going to take a shower. She then peels off her pants and bends over,
showing off her thermal-underwear-clad lady bits. Robyn, however, is oblivious to the effect
her actions have on the crew (like taking off your clothes in front of a family
member), though the men pay the strictest attention. Later, she fixes her sights on new recruit Harry
(James Hayden) with an eye towards
getting a little action. Naturally, this
will come back to haunt her, and I was rather surprised it went as far as it
did, considering the film’s origin.
Collette, the other prominent female character, was harassed on the last
rig she manned. This doesn’t stop her
from developing a relationship with Jake, and the two display a sense of mutual
respect for each other. It all plays out
in fairly clichéd manner (and involving a lot of food and coffee), but it
worked for me.
Another thing in the film that
appeals to me (and will always appeal to me), is its portrayal of its hero and
how he resolves his predicament. Jake is
the sort of protagonist who works with his hands for a living. Like so, so many heroes from this time
period, he wears a winter vest over a plaid flannel shirt (what the hell
happened to that look, huh?). He doesn’t
try to find the deeper meaning of what they find in the water. His breadth of wanting to understand the
monster starts and ends with how it can be killed. In many ways, Jake (and characters like him)
just wants to maintain the status quo.
He’s not looking to become a millionaire, he’s not looking to unlock the
secrets of the universe. He wants to
work, get paid, and keep himself and his crew alive and uninjured. It is this blue collar outlook that defines
how Jake will approach this (or any) problem.
Unlike today, where all of the characters in a film of this type seem to
either possess all manner of superpowers to pummel each other with or somehow
find the most ostentatious method of dispatching a beastie (only after the
tension of the film has ridden across its highest peaks for a duration rather
than building up to a singular climax), Jake and company have to use what’s at
hand. They will live or die based on
their resourcefulness and what they can lay their mitts on within the scant
time they have to prepare (if they have any at all). I’ll just say it. This is the type of finale I get misty-eyed
over, since it’s such a rarity these days (perhaps it just feels that way from
my cynical perspective). Films like this
one, The Car, Piranha, Grizzly, Alligator (notice a pattern?), and so on
all had this quality. It makes the
ripoff aspects a little easier to digest.
MVT: The tone of the film is
actually pretty dark for a television movie, and it does it all with nary a drop
of blood (okay, maybe one from old Sam [Paul
Larsson]) or a naked female nipple to be seen.
Make Or Break: The first
shots of the monster work decently well.
This is because we get very few straight glimpses of it, and it is
photographed in a hallway with a flashing red light. It obscures enough to maintain a little mystery
as well as spackling over some of the costume’s shortcomings.
Score: 6.25/10
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