It looks like something you'd find stapled to a telephone pole outside of a porn theater, but this is actually the movie's cover. Seriously.

It looks like something you'd find stapled to a telephone pole outside of a porn theater, but this is actually the movie's cover. Seriously.

Donkey: This one might require a little bit of background. A long time ago in a place far, far away, Blombo and I were skimming the surface of the trenches of monotony, hoping to fire our proton torpedoes into an exhaust port that would blow up the Death Yawn and defeat the Imperial Empire of Tedium. Star Wars references aside, what I’m getting at is that we were super fucking bored. Blombo lived in a hole in the Earth so small that calling it a town would be like calling a correspondence certificate in TV/VCR repair a master’s degree, and I was there visiting him for the weekend. Fun fact: you just had more fun reading this sentence than you could find in that town. This is the kind of place where boredom goes to slip into a deep existential depression and hang itself with its own belt. And seeing as we were barely into our teens, the possibilities presented to us were pretty limited. We rented a Super Nintendo and one of the five games that were available for it at the time, but there was only so much time we could spend beating up street thugs as a shirtless mayor, especially when the SNES version of Final Fight didn’t include co-op play. So we wandered over to the town’s only video store and found Arena. Take a moment to look back up at that cover and ask yourself this: could you possibly live out the rest of your life knowing that you passed up the opportunity to rent that?

Years later, with the re-release of Final Fight on Xbox Live, we once again found ourselves thrusting our heads into the crotches of cyberpunks as the greatest bare-chested mayor the world has never had. So when the choice for our next shitty movie was facing us, old memories dredged their way back to the surface. They say you can never go home again. Well, trust me, when that home has Arena in it, you should probably just burn the fucking house down and go join a traveling Freak Show. You’ll respect yourself more when you’re looking back at your life.

The Plot:

Donkey: Arena is the heartwarming tale of lost love, the struggle of the working class to rise up against the bourgeois elite, and a man in a gold bondage outfit awkwardly grappling with a half-alien-half-food-processor, all for the entertainment of what has to be at least two dozen people.

On a space station somewhere in some galaxy at some point in time, we meet Steve Armstrong, a fairly poor example of the human male. He is working as a short order cook in an astro-cafeteria, dreaming of competing in the Arena while watching Horn, the reigning champion, fight against the latest contender. But alas, there has not been a human champion in the Arena for over a thousand years, or fifty years…the movie claims both and never really tells you which one is the truth. And while he’s clearly struggling very hard to comprehend those odds, his boss, a short alien name Shorty, gets into a tussle with a customer. Once his second grade math skills have been exhausted, Steve comes to the rescue and a showcase of his unmatched fighting prowess is put on display against the fishman offender. But since this is the future, Big Brother immediately notices the offense and as a result, Shorty and Steve are both instantaneously fired, and Steve is even evicted from his space-apartment. All seems lost and Steve’s daydream of fighting in the Arena, which would have most likely gone unfulfilled anyways, really looks like it will never come to pass.

But fortune is smiling on Steve Armstrong like a middle aged man with a thin mustache on a nine year old boy. A couple of thugs are sent by what we have appropriately dubbed “Team Rimjob”, the group who handles most of the contenders to Horn’s title, to rough up Steve for filleting their fishman fighter. When Steve finally stops getting his ass beaten long enough to flail himself back at his attackers, his skills catch the attention of Quinn, the woman in charge of Team Rimjob. Steve is promptly offered the chance to fight for them in the Arena. And now that he finally has the chance to reach for the stars, to live the dream, to do what no human has done in generations…he immediately refuses.

Shorty, feeling sorry for Steve Armstrong (most likely because it’s obvious to everyone by now that he’s a fucking moron, bordering on legally retarded), decides to try to win the money needed to send Steve back home. But when the gambling joint they’re attending is stormed by the galactic-robo-cops, Shorty decides to just steal the astro-money in amongst the commotion instead. Finally, Steve can be sent back home to the feces farms of Teradung 4 to live out the rest of his life in quiet obscurity. But they soon find out that the gambling joint, and therefore the money they stole from it, actually belongs to Rogor; manager to Horn, unofficial ruler of the Arena, and all round exceptional Dancing With The Stars contestant. Steve now must find a way to get the money back to save Shorty from an undoubtedly terrible astro-death, so he turns to Quinn, who is willing to give him the money provided that he fights for them in the Arena. Fuck, I hate it when living out my dreams also happens to save the life of a dear friend.

After a few fights, the entire galaxy gets to see what a vicious killing machine Steve is, and in a surprisingly short period of time, he’s granted a title shot against Horn. With everything on the line, Rogor tries to sabotage Steve’s exceptionally slim chances at success with the most clichéd tactics in this or any universe. First he sends his blonde arm candy, Jade, to seduce and then poison Steve. When that doesn’t work, he manages to modify the Arena’s handicap machine to give Horn an unfair advantage, beyond the one that he inherently has in being matched up against a complete dunce. But despite this predictable assault of clichés, Steve manages to somehow scrape together the basic motor skills to beat Horn and become the new Super-Turbo-Hyper-Intergalactic Champion of My Pants. The twenty or thirty spectators for this monumental occasion celebrate, and then the movie quite literally drifts back into the irrelevance from whence it came.

The Case for Greatness (aka The Lowlights):

Milobar: We’ve got some Arena tonight. We’re watching it on VHS.

Donkey: Hell yes. The only way to watch one of the most obscure movies that nobody has ever heard of is on VHS. That tells you a lot about what we’re about to witness: you can’t get this movie on DVD. We were actually forced to rent the tape.

Milobar: I looked up Arena on IMDB and their “MOVIEMeter” says that Arena is up forty three percent in popularity this week.

Donkey: I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that’s because you just looked it up.

Milobar: It’s got just under five stars out of ten, and four hundred and thirty six votes. There are people who actually know this movie. I fear for their souls.

Donkey: I guess when this was still on video store shelves, there was a small group of people out there that did not consists of us who saw that cover and were willing to have their faces rocked off.

Milobar: One of the movie’s stars is Armin Shimerman. Why’s that name familiar? Who’s Armin Shimerman? What else has he been in?

Donkey: If you judge from the black hole of infinite ambiguity that this movie exists in, you’d have to guess absolutely nothing.

Milobar: I beg to differ. What you’re forgetting is that I’ve watched a lot of science fiction. Movies, television shows, pornographies…and I’m sure I’ve heard of him before. Ah yes, he was Quark on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. And apparently he was also Andrew Ryan in Bioshock. Wow.

Donkey: That is quite the juxtaposition of quality he’s involved in with those two alone. But I’ll personally always know and love him simply as “Stan the Caddy”.

Milobar: I love that space ship. It looks like it’s made out of Kinex.

Donkey: After spending the entire opening credits showing random shit flying through space for no foreseeable reason, looking remarkably awful even by space-trash standards, the scene then shows the Arena.

Milobar: That’s a pretty sweet spaceship. Oh no, that’s the space station, isn’t it? Or is that some sort of drive shaft or piston floating in space?

Donkey: The Arena does actually looks like a random car part. “What, we need us a model to use for the external shots of the Arena? Shit, just paint that sparkplug black, hang it on some fishing line and let’s go cornhole us some whores, Glen!” The scene slowly zooms in and we see a match in progress.

Milobar: We start with Horn, the current champion, fighting Spinner, the latest contender who is a half-alien-half-robot-half-manbearpig creature that looks like it could probably win a fight against a toaster and that’s about it.

Donkey: As the match is being played out, humanity’s last great hope for a champion, Steve Armstrong, is watching on an astro-TV while working as a short order cook in either a space-cantina or a cafeteria that looks too low rent to even be put in a Wal-Mart.

Milobar: In a jumpsuit…his intergalactic shiny space jumpsuit. Now, what doesn’t seem to strike anyone in the movie as odd, but strikes me as horrendous, is that Horn has a stainless steel banana hammock on.

Donkey: Beyond how awful and yet strangely sexy that looks, I can’t help but extrapolate that further. Apparently this movie is suggesting that all alien creatures have the same genitalia. That’s rather convenient. A moment later, Horn rips off one of Spinner’s arms and…scores a point. That’s it? You take an arm and get a single point?

Milobar: If you think that’s bad you should see the penalty I take on my accidental death and dismemberment insurance if I only lose one arm.  However, if I lose both, it’s nothing but fine eats for the rest of my life. Bring on the thresher!

Donkey: The movie stops for a moment and explains that the Arena uses the “Seiko (isn’t that a fucking watch company?) Evening System” which handicaps fighters so that they’re at the same level. That makes no sense to me, because at that point Horn might as well be fighting a colicky baby, or the onset of rheumatoid arthritis.

Milobar: Or maybe he could just yell at his reflection for a couple of hours. If you’re going to handicap your fighters so that they’re on the exact same level, why even have a fight? What does that even prove?

Donkey: Exactly. He could be fighting a fucking cardboard box filled with medical refuse. It really wouldn’t matter. And, I might add, that would be a far more hazardous opponent than Steve Armstrong.

Milobar: I have a feeling that most of the actors in this movie are now fighting a cardboard box on the street. Of course the difference is that once they’re finished battling it, they’re going to then sleep in it. Apparently our good friend Quark is a henchman for Rogor, the guy who runs this “Arena” and whom I will lovingly refer to as Outerspace Dana White (ODW). Quark gets the nod from ODW and injects Horn with some kind of space-steroids to make him stronger, despite the fact that the Seiko system should just compensate for that. And in another blast from my depressing past, I just realized that Outerspace Dana White was also in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. He played Gul Dukat.

Donkey: Apparently this is a shitty Sci-Fi reunion.

Milobar: A shitty Sci-Fi preunion; this movie was made first.

Donkey: During the fight, the movie cuts back to Steve Armstrong, super hero, and we are introduced to his boss, who is a four armed humanoid.

Milobar: A short alien guy with four arms whose name is Shorty. HAHA, get it? Huh? Huh?

Donkey: Another example of how this is clearly a highly imaginative movie, showing off the most creative minds that could come up with a screenplay in a bus station men’s room. And how do the masters of special effects hired for this film create a four armed humanoid creature for our film? There are essentially two ways that Shorty will appear in a scene. If his second set of arms is not of any relevance to the scene and will therefore go unused, they’re clearly a set of rubber arms just stapled to the side of his body. They couldn’t look any faker if they were made out of celery and an unhealthy fear of immigrants.

Milobar: There’s no such thing as an unhealthy fear of immigrants. Stop stealing my apple picking and lawn mowing jobs!

Donkey: However, if the second set of arms is actually going to be of some use in the scene, they have Shorty standing there in a jacket big enough to cover the fact that they have a guy ducking behind him, sticking his arms out front of Shorty’s body. The Swedish Chef on the fucking Muppet Show looked more convincing than this. And I feel sorry for whoever had the role of “Shorty’s second set of arms” because he got a face full of ass for the entire movie.

Milobar: And he didn’t even get a speaking part for his trouble.

Donkey: No, he literally just has his face in a fat man’s ass for his entire part of the film.

Milobar: I know a man who would pay good money to have his face up someone’s ass for an entire movie. Steve steps in to help Shorty and ends up fighting a fishman. I didn’t realize this movie was based on Castlevania.

Donkey: I love the fact that once Steve is getting the upper hand in the fight, he gives the double fisted chop technique to the back of said fishman. Goddamn, that’s vicious. Those are some classic fighting moves there, passed down through the ancient discipline of Shatner-Fu.

Milobar: He follows up his double-fister with a jump kick. Way to go Steve, you’ve mastered the most useless moves in martial arts history.

Donkey: Once that exceptionally tedious fight scene is mercifully finished, we discover that Steve Armstrong was instantly fired and evicted from his apartment for taking part in the grope-fest with the fishman. The movie cuts back to our team of heroes, Team Rimjob, trying to patch up Spinner. As they assess the damage and realize that he’ll be too expensive to fix, Spinner begs them not to retire him. In that single moment, he shows more emotion than any human and instantly becomes the most sympathetic character you’ll find in this film.

Milobar: Sweep back to S&S, and Shorty offers to put Steve up until he can make enough money to get home.

Donkey: Shorty claims that he’s paying Steve back for standing up for him in the tussle with the fishman, but I’d put money on sexual favors being propositioned in the near future.

Milobar: Since Steve is broke, and apparently open to inter-species experimentation, he follows Shorty home to the space station’s… boiler room? Why do space stations always have some sort of interior area where there are no living quarters? There’s just some tubing and machinery and shit, and homeless people always squat there and eke out some sort of pitiful existence siphoning leavings from the water reclamation system. You know, because large open spaces wouldn’t be an area of concern during the construction of a space station. “Hey Jim, what’s this large empty spot in the center of the blueprints?” “For chrissakes Bob, we get paid by the hour, stop asking questions!” Apparently this space station was designed by Haliburton and paid for by the American government. For fuck’s sake, Steve Armstrong is supposed to be the greatest human fighter in five hundred years, and he’s being defeated by the ladder leading in to this goddamn place!

Donkey: I’m not surprised. If Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins and DOA: Dead Or Alive have taught us nothing else, it’s that climbing’s a bitch, my man. Once they get to Shorty’s place, they’re interrupted by a couple of dudes from Team Rimjob who have come to pay Steve back for injuring their fishman fighter.

Milobar: Knock, knock at the door. Who’s there? “We’re thugs.  I don’t like you, my friend doesn’t like you either. You hurt the fishman, so now we hurt you!” Steve Armstrong really shows off those “best human fighter in five hundred years” fighting skills by getting his ass handed to him and then throwing some punches that don’t look like they could knock out a kitten.

Donkey: But after showing as much fighting skill as a fucking half-melted Slurpee, he catches the full attention of Quinn, the female head of Team Rimjob and earns himself a contract offer. And after Steve has been talking for the entire movie thus far about how his dream was to fight in the Arena, when Quinn offers him that chance, he adamantly refuses, in a ridiculous attempt to create conflict out of nothing.

Shorty decides that he’s going to try to get Steve the money to get home, so he takes him to a gambling joint. Which means that even though humans have evolved to the point where they live in space, there are still assholes who honestly think that they can defy logic and statistics and just go win everything they need down at the track. And if I’m not mistaken, they gain entrance into the top secret, illegal gambling joint using the password “swordfish”?

Milobar: Apparently even aliens in the future know about Halle Barry’s titties. Man, why is it that every movie in the 80’s thought that the future was going have neon lights everywhere?

Donkey: It was the 80’s, man. If we looked around in the 80’s and had to guess what was going to thrive in the future, no one who hadn’t suffered nine consecutive strokes would have guessed legwarmers or feathered hair would have made it instead.

Milobar: Apparently fucking dyed blonde hair that’s been teased until it’s ten times its normal size survived through the ages. The future according to the 80’s fucking sucked.

Donkey: Milobar is of course describing Jade, the blonde girlfriend of Rogor that has enters the movie and will become crucial later in the film.

Milobar: Well, her vagina will.

Donkey: Yes, as is the case in any 80’s movie, that’s the only part of any blonde chick that ever really counts.

Milobar: That and her shoulder pads.

Donkey: Jade is playing a game of chance that consists of her rolling a massive silver plastic ball around an unmarked table. She’s really doing her best to sell me the excitement of the game too, looking about as thrilled as one usually would when doing their taxes, but this game appears to have no purpose or way of knowing if you win or lose.

Milobar: It’s like going to church, my man. Just like going to church. “Father, how will playing with these balls get me into heaven?” “Quiet my child, less talking and more… ‘gambling’.”

Donkey: And just when we’re hoping we’re going to sit through a forty five minute gambling scene that makes Casino Royale look like a night at a seniors’ home bingo parlor, security at this gambling joint proves their worth. Someone walks up and says “swordfish”, the bouncer opens the door for them and then just stands back, keeping the door wide open to let them eventually usher in a fleet of robots. Robot cops that start to try to arrest everyone.

Milobar: The best part about the robot cops is that they start just randomly shooting people for gambling. Apparently, in the future, the police force is run by Mennonites.

Donkey: Once Shorty takes the opportunity to pocket a fistful of cash, the movie skips to yet another cantina scene. How many of those does that make now? Fourteen? So far the movie has consisted of a series of cantinas and hallways. S-Squared sit down to drink with a bunch more aliens before the news is broken that Shorty is buying the ticket to send Steve home with the money he stole.

Milobar: As can be seen in Cantina #14, every alien in this movie is just a dude with an insect mask or a fish mask or an ass mask or something. I understand that they probably didn’t have a big budget, but come on. There is however one thing about this scene that I think they got bang on about the future. Two dudes sitting at the bar having a drink, out of jumbo, super-sized cups. Even in the future, in outer space, people will be super-sizing their Mcfucking-turbo-chug meal.

Donkey: Those glasses look to be about a litre and a half. But if bars in space are anything like they are here, those are probably about eighty percent water and five percent urine.

Milobar: For our American friends, that means eighteen hogs heads. A moment later, they all begin watching a really shitty, tiny holographic dance routine of Jade. Why would anyone consider this entertainment?

Donkey: This is just like walking in on your uncle masturbating to the Sears catalogue: it’s horribly awkward, there’s nothing sexy anywhere to be seen, and it’s completely pointless.

Milobar: I would actually go one step further. I’d be willing to say that it’s about as uncomfortable as walking in on your uncle masturbating to pictures of you masturbating to the Sears catalogue. While everyone is distracted by the dancing queen, they cut to one of the other patrons of the bar. Another dude with a fish head alien mask on, and he is going all ape shit over the image of the dancing woman. Why would a fishman be turned on by a human woman? It’s not like I’d be turned on by a dancing fish. Or would I?

Donkey: Hey, you put a fish in a garter belt and a pair of fishnet stocking, and….well, I’ll leave it at that. Ahem…anyways, the next moment we see Sx2 have been brought before Rogor, the evil mastermind who demands immediate repayment of the money stolen.

Milobar: It’s nice to see in the future that bad guys still wear pleather.

Donkey: Seeing as Steve Armstrong now needs to pay off Shorty’s debt to Rogor, he has no choice but to go visit Team Rimjob to try to get the money needed.

Milobar: Pan to another external space station shot that just cost this movie the other half of its budget.

Donkey: He manages to go see Quinn and get back with the eighteen grand needed to pay off Rogor in less than two hours, agreeing to fight in the Arena as a trade for Team Rimjob’s help.

Milobar: Goddamn it. Why does everything in the future have to be shiny? All their clothing, jewelry, equipment…it’s all shiny. What the fuck? After almost being blinded by Future Fashion, the next scene is Steve’s first Arena fight. It’s a good thing they used the Seiko 5 Million or whatever to equalize all the fighters’ abilities because it looks like Steve Armstrong is about to fight an alien the size of a rhinoceros. Even if they reduce the alien’s speed and strength I would think he still has a distinct size and weight advantage. Oh, and fucking razor sharp claws.

Donkey: But wait…Steve Armstrong on the other hand, has an outfit!

Milobar: A golden outfit.

Donkey: A golden outfit that consists of a golden banana hammock that’s covered by a white plastic diaper, white plastic football shoulder pads, and white plastic knee pads all strung together by a couple of golden straps. It barely covers his nipples, balls, and nothing else.

Milobar: Maybe about fifty percent of his taint.

Donkey: The rest of his outfit barely covers anything, and yet someone thought it was important for him to have shoulder and knee pads. Why? Nearly his entire chest is bare, practically begging to be kicked in. There’s far more of him exposed than protected. Either someone’s four intellectual notches below a sea cucumber with a learning disorder or they chose this purely from a fashion standpoint, in which case this film contains a horrifying tragedy on par with Schinlder’s List.

Milobar: I honestly don’t understand why they thought it was important for him to wear that outfit at all. If he’s going to be that unprotected, just send him out in a pair of boxing trunks.

Donkey: The fight begins and Steve moves up to his opponent with as much confidence and skill as I’m willing to bet he’d exhibit if he was charged with disarming an explosive device, or picking out the verb in a four word sentence on a blackboard.

Milobar: Come on Steve, you can do it! Flip the alien over like a giant crab in a PS3 game and attack his weak spot for massive damage! But instead we get to see the alien humping Steve in his “weak spot”.

Donkey: But soon Steve turns the tables again and mounts the alien for what I believe is going to be a full bare-back anal thrust.

Milobar: Those of us in the industry call that the “Thrusting Dragon”.

Donkey: As can only be performed by a man in that fucking outfit. You’ve gotta love the 80’s, before fight scenes were made even reasonably impressive.

Milobar: Back when people believed being a good fighter just meant punching harder than the other guy.

Donkey: Steve and his opponent basically just flail their arms pathetically at one another. Then to create the peril of being in a headlock, Steve quite literally takes the arm of his puppet opponent and wraps it around his neck by himself. Now those are some special effects, right there.

Milobar: Steve breaks free and pulls a Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time duck roll between his opponent’s legs and attacks from behind.

Donkey: The great part is that he does it so slowly and awkwardly that if his opponent actually had the most basic functionality of its nervous system, it would literally just lower itself and sit on him. The fight would be over. Steve is now in the training room with Shorty after the fight and he’s describing what could either be the fight he just had, or his first gay experience. It was awkward, but it felt good, and the first couple of blows went well.

Milobar: I’m guessing gay experience.

Donkey: That’s my vote. In the next scene, Shorty, Steve, and Quinn are watching a shitty stand up comic in yet another fucking cantina. Seriously, three quarters of this movie is in a fucking bar.

Milobar: Wow. I didn’t realize they were still going to be showing Mind of Mencia reruns this far into the future.

Donkey: Again the movie mentions it, and I don’t understand: apparently there hasn’t been a human champion in a thousand years and there hasn’t been a human finalist in over five hundred years. And yet the last guy who did it is in the movie. So how fucking old is that man?

Milobar: I’m going to say about as old as my security badge at work, which expired in 1014 (seriously, that’s not a joke). And everybody’s wearing shiny fucking clothes again.

Donkey: Well if we judge by how all the women in this scene are dressed, it’s nice to see the mainstay of the future economy is the sequin mines.

Milobar: The Sequin Mines of Algor 7. Which, since approximately ninety nine percent of the people in this movie are white, is where I’m presuming all the other humans have gone to work.

Donkey: That’s about the only way it would be believable that a white guy as bad as this could be a contender; if all other races were off somewhere working in a mine. Rogor then enters the nightclub with Jade and Horn. Horn comes over to randomly talk some shit to Steve while Jade begins performing on stage, quite badly. Apparently this was supposed to be sexy or mildly entertaining to somebody, somewhere.

Milobar: Maybe in 1960’s communist Russia this would be considered sexy and risqué.

Donkey: I’m willing to bet that if I was trapped in an industrial borscht kitchen in 1960’s communist Russia, I’d find the goddamn beets sexier than this. While she’s dancing, there are close ups of Steve and Rogor watching and you can see the boners that they’re getting just from their ridiculous facial expressions.

Milobar: I think this scene is actually trying to tell us something else because we see shots of Steve Armstrong looking wistfully into the distance, then it cuts back to the blonde singing, then we see Rogor looking wistfully into the distance, then back to Steve Armstrong, back to singing, back to Rogor. I think they’re trying to tell us that Steve Armstrong and Rogor are secretly in love with each other.

Donkey: I believe we’re in for a montage now. Come on, show me Steve Armstrong randomly fighting people and moving his way up the ladder in the goddamn golden diaper football outfit…

Milobar: The Steve Armstrong montage! Show him punching a bunch of aliens in the face! Then show his balls! Awesome! Apparently a regular montage wasn’t good enough, so they took a shot of him punching an alien and then divided it into four separate boxes on the screen, and then played each one at slightly different speeds so that you had to see the same shitty scene four fucking times.

Donkey: It’s bad enough having to try to absorb this visual atrocity once, but multiplying it by four made me shit myself a little. There’s only so much awesome that the human body can take. After a banner showing Steve winning his fourth fight, they’re now talking about giving him a title shot. Really? It hasn’t been done in a thousand years and he gets a shot in four fucking fights?

Fearing the marginal fighting skills of Steve “Dry Toast” Armstrong, Quark and his cohort, Skull, propose that they fix the fight by tampering with the handicap machine. But Rogor exclaims that it’s never been done, that it can’t be done. Really, nobody’s ever thought of it? That seems like the most fucking obvious plan that anyone could possibly come up with.

Milobar: That just seems ridiculous. You’d have to be able to perform maintenance on this device, upgrade it, and replace parts. Somebody’s got to know how it works.

Donkey: And you’d think if Rogor’s a bad ass kingpin that you have to go through to make it to the top, that he would have become powerful enough that he could just bribe or threaten the people in charge of the handicap machine.

Milobar: Next is a training scene where Steve Armstrong appears to be fighting an armadillo. A fucking space armadillo. And here comes our blonde bombshell, wearing a dress that’s cut to show off her non-existent cleavage.

Donkey: Jade has shown up because Rogor has sent her to give Steve Armstrong the one thing that can stop him from fighting…the herpes. And even though Steve knows that this woman is Rogor’s girlfriend, he doesn’t have any warning bells go off in that brilliant head of his while she hints that she’d like to take a ride on his tiny pommel horse of a crotch.

Milobar: Fucking shiny shit again. Everything’s got shiny shit all over it. I swear to god this movie is going to give me a seizure!

Donkey: Speaking of which, as the movie transitions to the date scene where Steve has shown up at Jade’s apartment, we see that in order to make her bedroom look like the “Bedroom of the Future”, they’ve just thrown shiny cloth over her bed and what I’m betting is just a regular old office chair.

Milobar: In fact, I’m willing to bet that chair is actually a throne of milk crates. But it’s true of pretty much everything. You drape some shiny material over your dick and you’ve got “Penis of the Future”.

Donkey: Once they’ve finished what one has to assume is an entire forty six seconds of love making, Jade rolls out of bed and gets into a robe. Fuck, even her goddamn robe has shoulder pads. And then we see the entire point of this rendezvous, as Jade pours two drinks and slips poison into Steve’s, right before he chugs it like it’s the antidote to his cervical cancer. Who the fuck didn’t see that coming? A blind man who had been locked in a cell his entire life and forced to endure a constant stream of John Tesh albums would still have the basic sensory perception to have told you that was going to happen.

Milobar: Why…why shoulder pads? I don’t understand why women wanted shoulder pads in the 80’s. Here, wear these. They’ll make you look more masculine.

Donkey: And now we see the blonde reporting back to Rogor, verifying that she did actually give him the herpes.

Milobar: Jade’s shown back up at Rogor’s office wearing the same black cleavage outfit that she was wearing the day before. But Rogor, like most people in this movie, is still wearing the exact same clothes he’s been wearing the entire movie. I didn’t realize that we were watching an episode of The Simpsons, where everyone wears the same clothes, every fucking day.

Donkey: It’s now fight time, and Horn is out on stage in the Arena, showing off his literal abs of steel while Steve is conspicuously late.

Milobar: Notice, if you look really closely at Horn’s abdomen, there’s a hole right in the middle where the metal meets the flesh of his alien costume. You can see the dude inside the rubber costume.

Donkey: That’s awesome. Steve stumbles into the locker room where Team Rimjob is anxiously awaiting him, feeling the full effects of the poison. So this means that Steve went out and banged Jade, accepted a drink even though he specifically said he shouldn’t drink, and got all fucked up THE NIGHT BEFORE THE TITLE SHOT. Seriously, if he was that easy to dupe, why not go with a simpler route? Hand him a fucking pistol with a lollipop stuck in the barrel and a note that says “for maximum flavor, pull the trigger of deliciousness”.

Milobar: If you pull the trigger it makes the lollipop spin. Just put it in your mouth, pull the trigger, and it will do all the work for you.

Donkey: During this suspenseful moment where everyone is waiting to see if the fight will go on, the announcer describes Steve as the hopes and dreams of all of humanity. I must say that if we ever get to that point, if this chumpstick is the best we can do, I’d cash in my chips and hope to come back as something that is worth more respect, like a cockroach or a new strain of viral dysentery. Meanwhile Steve’s lying on the table of the locker room while the doctor explains that he’s been poisoned and that he’d be dead within two hours if he hadn’t just been given the antidote. Steve’s head is lolling around, he obviously doesn’t know where he is, and he’s undoubtedly having a dream about having a mouthful of cock. And yet a moment later the doctor says that he’ll be fit to fight. Who the fuck would let him fight like that?

Milobar: Space doctors.

Donkey: You know, since we have so many people from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine in the cast of this movie, I was actually hoping that it would also borrow from another Sci-Fi show and Scott Bakula would jump into Steve’s body right about now and scrap his way through the big fight for him.

Milobar: “Oh boy”. I miss Scott Bakula.

Donkey: As do I from time to time, but then I just say hi to him as he’s checking my dumpster for bottles.

Milobar: Don’t be ridiculous. This area is too expensive. He can’t afford the rent on dumpsters in this part of town. The ringside announcer mentions that the fight may have to be cancelled. Why would he cancel the fight? The doctor just told him, fifteen minutes and he’ll be ready to go.

Donkey: Finally Steve stumbles out and the big fight starts. Rogor quickly realizes that Steve Armstrong is just too powerful to be stopped, like a freight train covered in bees that is on fire, so he decides to go ahead with the plan of fucking with the handicapper. Of course, he had already declared that this simply can’t be done, so I can’t wait to see how this unachievable feat actually gets accomplished.

Milobar: Science.

Donkey: If it involves someone opening a panel on a wall and twisting two wires, this will become the greatest movie ever made.

Milobar: I’m expecting somebody to reverse the polarity and create a feedback loop.

Donkey: Quark and Skull begin hacking into the unhackable computer controlling the handicapper, which starts with opening a panel on a wall, then grabbing some wires…fuck,  this is off to a promising start so far.

Milobar: Skull is plugging another cable…into his own head?

Donkey: It appears he’s connecting himself to a Lite Bright. Meanwhile Steve Armstrong and Horn are busy battling out in the arena, fighting so hard that they could easily be mistaken for people at a corporate team-building retreat who are using their mouths to pass each other an egg on a spoon.

Milobar: You know, I just thought about Steve Armstrong’s outfit here with his diaper on and whatnot. I think they were on to something when they got this for him. Because I can tell you that if I was a professional fighter and I stepped into the ring and that was staring me down, I’d fucking quit. You win. I’m outta here, asshole. Fuck this game.

As they watch the fight from their booth, Jade begins to feel conflicted as she’s known Steve for a fucking day. Why would she feel anything for him?

Donkey: It’s because you cannot have anyone with a vagina in a movie with a man on of this magnitude. They’ll all fall in love with him. I’m surprised Shorty hasn’t offered a four handed jerk off yet, actually.

Now that they’ve successfully hacked in, Rogor has told his henchman to jack up the handicapper on Steve, making him as weak as a newborn. Hearing this, Jade demands to know what’s going on, even though she was standing right beside them not twenty minutes ago when they had explained the entire plan in the first place. And now that Steve Armstrong is getting slapped around, Shorty looks up and sees the lights of the handicapper are flickering, which begs the question why everyone else hasn’t noticed that up to this point? They’re on all the time, constantly, through every fight, so who the fuck wouldn’t notice that they’re flickering?

Milobar: Seems like it would be pretty obvious.

Donkey: And much like how in DOA: Dead Or Alive they got to choose their own rules of combat, this movie proves how utterly useless the entire fight is by the fact that they’re beating the shit out of each other, but only actually score a point when they knock one another out of the ring.

Milobar: Just like real life.

Donkey: Why not just try to push one another then? Why all the hand-to-hand combat? The most intergalactic arena battle basically boils down to a shitty sumo match.

Milobar: Wow. Apparently they don’t have videogames in the future anymore if this is the only thing they can come up with. Once Shorty realizes what’s going on, he runs to help. Why does it take Shorty so long to get up those stairs? He was at the bottom of a set of maybe ten stairs five minutes ago and he just got to the top.

Donkey: Shorty goes up to investigate the tampering of the handicapper, finds Quark there, kicks the gun out of his hand and we see it fall down to the crowd below and hit the fishman in the head. Was that supposed to be funny? Really?

Milobar: That’s supposed to be witty and clever. But what follows is even better. Look right above Steve Armstrong’s belt. Is that not beautiful?

Donkey: Horn, who is beating Steve Armstrong mercilessly since he’s being crippled by the handicapper, has decided to hoist Steve above his head so that he can toss him like a piece of broccoli out of a fat man’s esophagus. And in this shot, as Horn is holding him up over his head, you can clearly see the extremely noticeable wire that is coming down from above and is connected to Steve’s belt, holding him up.

Since Shorty has done something while battling Quark that caused Skull’s head to explode somehow, the handicapper is turned off altogether. I could be wrong, but with a half man (because I’m not really willing to consider Steve to be a whole man on any level) and an alien like Horn, doesn’t it seem like that would be an inherently worse situation for Steve to be in? Half of Horn is covered in metal, for fucks sake. Good luck punching that.

Milobar: Shorty fighting Quark on the catwalk high above the Arena floor ends with Shorty tossing him over the side and falling to his death. The shot consists of a dummy falling to the ground, and one that could clearly be nothing else but a dummy. Or maybe a sack of potatoes. That’s awesome.

Donkey: The fight is quickly coming to an end, with Steve unloading his entire arsenal on Horn. In other words, he’s punched him a couple of times.

Milobar: You know, for a competition that hasn’t had a human champion in a thousand years, there sure are a lot of humans who watch it. As a matter of fact, about ninety percent of the people in the crowd, which isn’t any bigger for this fight than any other, are humans.

Donkey: Whom, once the match is over and Steve has won, are showing about as much enthusiasm as they have at any other point in the film. What fucking excitement! This is clearly a monumental occasion!

Milobar: Jade decides that being on the arm of the champion is much better than being on the arm of the dude who runs the whole fucking show, and rushes down to the floor to profess her love. Oh, and everyone is once again wearing SHINY FUCKING CLOTHES. Fuck this, I’m done, where are my shoes?

Donkey: Quinn punches her out, leaving Jade there to wonder what the hell she’s done with her life thus far, having had sex with an alien and a half man all for naught. And we now see the Arena drift back off into space, the same way it arrived at the beginning. Why do I feel like I’ve just been touched inappropriately? I need an adult.

Milobar: This movie is a perfect example of why, even in these tough economic times, Hollywood will never die.

The Verdict:

Donkey: This movie is a shining example of why so few people respect Sci-Fi as a genre. It’s filled with tired plot points that have been done far better in countless other movies, set to a backdrop that’s about as exciting as having a cold bucket of puke poured onto your lap. I would give the movie four diapers out of five fishmen, but I have to divide that by zero to compensate for the fact that next to no one has ever seen this film. Therefore, the laws of mathematics dictate that my rating is undefined. Pointless? Yes, but so is this fucking movie.

Milobar: After posting the review of DOA: Dead or Alive I realized I swear a lot in these things, so I honestly tried to tone down my language in this one. Unfortunately I just really couldn’t help myself since this movie kicks you in the goods from the first scene and continues to use your baby maker as a speed bag for the next 90 minutes. Rubber masks, shiny jumpsuits, four armed child molesters, a space station made up entirely of hallways and cantinas, and a cast of dozens, is topped off by one golden haired douche bag with a nickel, a wish, a golden diaper outfit, a dream, and a complete inability to act or perform any type of effective fighting move. I give this movie 18 shiny shirts out of 18 shiny pants.  They really hit the mark on this one.

What We Learned:

Milobar: The past is full of rubberheads in turtle costumes. The future is full of rubberheads in tinfoil pants. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…

Donkey: In space, no one can hear you scream, which couldn’t be truer when you’re a man in a diaper battling in a contest that no one will ever see for a title that no one will ever know of. As a matter of fact, I’ve already forgotten what we just watched….oh yeah, that’s right….TMNT III sucked. What a waste of time.


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