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Utterly ridiculous but briefly watchable in the early going. Farrah Fawcett plays a Charlie’s Angel stuck on a space ship with her grandfather/lover, Astro-farmer Kirk Douglas. While they grow hydroponics for Earth’s consumption for some reason, a routine visit from psychotic Harvey Keitel goes about as well as can be expected. The producers of the film, hiring Keitel presumably sight unheard, dub his voice in with that of a struggling radio actor, who had no idea his medium of choice no longer existed, apparently. Keitel, who has been outfitted with Darth Vader armor for the purposes of space comfort, convenience and to project an aura of Sith lordishness, immediately pursues Fawcett in the smoothest manner. He drops such gems as, “You have a beautiful body. May I use it,” and essentially pleads with her to drop Douglas’ zero to get with his hero in a way that is simultaneously creepy, whiny and unyielding. Or, as I like to call them, the Three Laws of Romance. After failing multiple times to gain her acquiescence to be raped, Keitel accuses Fawcett of crimes ranging from sexual treason to wasting it on some old fart. Here is where he kicks in his most brilliant scheme- find an old Johnny 5 unit, set its strength ratings to “tear off human limbs” and upgrade its lust logic while downgrading its outdated, Asimovian, “a robot must never sexually terrorize a human being” fail safes. Inexplicably, this plan goes awry and much robot wrestling commences, ultimately ending in an electrifying schvitz that sets our heroine on a journey to the storied Earth, which is supposed to have some deeper meaning but comes across as an means to the end of “wrapping this thing up, already.” Oh, you tricky filmmakers, you. 2 stars

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