The Incredible Melting Man (1977)

1977 found horror cinema in an interesting state of transition. Hammer Films had all but fired its last increasingly ineffective salvo, The Exorcist had been followed by The Omen, the slasher boom was poised to explode with Halloween, and special effects were about to enter an entirely new era thanks to artists such as Tom Savini and Rick Baker. Today, The Incredible Melting Man is remembered almost exclusively for Baker's superb make-up effects—and precious little else.

The film opens with astronaut Steve West and his two crewmates approaching an ominous blaze of light somewhere near Saturn. Steve marvels, "You've never seen anything until you've seen the sun through the rings of Saturn," a line that all but guarantees he'll soon regret his enthusiasm. Moments later disaster strikes, a violent explosion tears through the spacecraft and all communication with Houston is lost.

The next thing we know Steve is lying motionless in the isolation ward of a military hospital while assorted generals and scientists solemnly discuss his alarming condition. Exposure to mysterious cosmic radiation has transformed him into a revolting, bubbling mass of melting flesh with an insatiable craving for human meat. Hideously disfigured and blessed with superhuman strength, Steve promptly climbs off the operating table, chases a rather unfortunate nurse through the hospital corridors and makes a meal of her head before disappearing into the countryside in search of fresh victims.

The unfortunate melting monster next encounters a fisherman whose appalling singing appears reason enough to rip his head clean off. Curiously, Steve doesn't even bother eating it, leaving the severed head floating serenely downstream while he continues his slimy wanderings.

The scientists eventually conclude that Steve must continue killing because only fresh human flesh can somehow replenish his rapidly decaying cells. Unfortunately his condition deteriorates with alarming speed. Wherever he goes he leaves behind puddles of sticky slime and chunks of decomposing flesh until he resembles a badly overcooked extra-cheese pepperoni pizza left too long in the oven.

The military, meanwhile, pursue him with what appear to be glorified metal detectors, convinced these miraculous gadgets will somehow locate their radioactive quarry. Needless to say, every hour Steve remains at large leaves another gruesome corpse—or partially consumed one—in his increasingly gooey wake.

The undisputed star of the production is Rick Baker, whose extraordinary make-up effects remain genuinely impressive nearly fifty years later. His melting creature is still a wonderfully disgusting creation and easily the film's greatest asset.

Unfortunately, even Baker's remarkable work cannot compensate for an abysmal screenplay and some of the most pedestrian direction imaginable. The film never generates the slightest trace of suspense and often resembles a particularly dreary made-for-television movie. The performances are uniformly wooden, the pacing glacial and there is scarcely a flicker of imagination, style or wit anywhere to be found.

Which is a pity, because the premise itself had enormous potential. In more capable hands this might have become another cult classic in the mould of Alligator or The Fly. Instead it slowly dissolves into an almost terminally dull exercise in watching a man drip goo over the scenery.

It is amusing to spot a young Jonathan Demme among the cast, a credit he probably doesn't rush to place near the top of his résumé.

Ultimately, The Incredible Melting Man proves to be considerably more successful as a cure for insomnia than as a horror film. Personally, it took me six attempts before I finally managed to stay awake long enough to reach the ending. Baker's magnificent make-up aside, this is less an Incredible Melting Man than an Incredible Melting Bore.