A scene from The History of Future Folk. |
By Ed Rampell
J. Anderson Mitchell and Jeremy Kipp Walker’s The History of Future Folk is an exceptionally clever sci-fi send up that is a hoot from beginning to almost the very end. The core of this genre spoof is an oft repeated staple of science fiction, seen in My Favorite Martian, Alf, Mork and Mindy, E.T., et al: Unbeknown to us, visitors from another planet mingle amongst we unsuspecting earthlings. Sheer hilarity (or sometimes high drama) ensues as we follow these cosmic fish out of water consorting with mere mortals. Indeed, E.T.’s famous scream as Drew Barrymore stumbles upon the extraterrestrial hiding in her home is wittily lampooned in Future Folk.
The coded message of these productions asks the same question that the late and much lamented Rodney King posed: “People, can we get along?” Usually, the space aliens have superior technological powers, but discover something lovable about Homosapiens, despite our foibles, that make us worthy of not being wiped off the face of the Earth. (Hey, that’s mighty otherworldly of you!) Sometimes, what redeems us in the bug eyes of those little green men is our flawed species’ gift of that crazy little thing called love.
In The History of Future Folk the interplanetary interlopers from Hondo stumble upon humanity’s ability to create music. This endears human beings to Bill (AKA General Trius, drolly played by Nils d’Aulaire) and the Mighty Kevin (Jay Klaitz, as the klutzy alien), who have indeed been dispatched on genocidal cosmos-trotting missions to, shall we say, force earthlings to vacate the premises so Hondo’s denizens can resettle our lonely piece of real estate. But the intergalactic intruders become so enamored of music that they form a bluegrass duet, rocking the casbah nightly at a Brooklyn joint.
And yes, our guitar strumming, banjo picking outer space Simon and Garfunkel do commit intergalactic miscegenation, falling in love with earthy Earth girls. Kevin’s tango with off duty NYPD officer Carmen (April Hernandez) is a virtual laugh riot.
Future Folk’s endearing low budge, Ed Wood-like “special effects” include what appear to be upside down plastic buckets-cum-astronaut helmets. Alas, this people’s history of outer space also commits the cardinal sin of genre spoofs: It starts at some point to take itself seriously re: General Trius’ triage. Just as Seth Rogen’s 2011 The Green Hornet made fun of superhero conventions then became just another costumed crusader flick, The History of Future Folk assumes the attributes of sci-fi, and instead of playing it for laughs, makes the mistake of playing it straight. But don’t the filmmakers realize everyone laughs at the court jester -- until he stops telling jokes? You’re supposed to parody genre conventions, not repeat them. Nevertheless, for most of the ride Future Folk is good fun, until it runs out of rocket fuel.
The History of Future Folk screens at the Los Angeles Film Festival: tonight, 7:30, Regal Cinemas.
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