Jarv’s Schlock Vault: Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars

   I don’t care what you say, I’m in love with Dusty!      

    Jarv’s Rating: 2.5 Changs. I want to give it more, but have to admit to this being a hilarious but deeply rubbish film.     

 

Mrs. Jarv, paragon of patience that she is, passed her limit with me the other week. Apparently it is not amusing, and is certainly childish to deliberately want to see a film called something as patently absurd as Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars. My feeble justifications that it wasn’t in fact lesbian porn melted like a snowman in the sunshine when I was pointedly asked to explain what, if that is the case, it actually is about and more importantly, why the fuck would anyone want to watch something called Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars that isn’t porn. So, given that this splendid bastion of B-movie filth isn’t smut, what the fuck is it? Well, Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars (and I giggle typing that out) is a strange hybrid of stop motion animation, claymation, comedy, social satire (well, I’m lying about that one) and courtroom drama. It was made on a shoestring, is if I’m honest, quite badly shot, but is still 90-odd minutes of sheer daft entertainment.      

Massive spoilers ahead.   

Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars opens with three Clay Martians that resemble Tony Hart’s much beloved Morph:      

"But Chas, Tony didn't give us penises. So we can never consummate our love"

 Except that I doubt that the great man would have seen fit to give his children’s creation with enormous genitalia. Anyhoo, said ridiculously endowed clay Martians are busy experimenting on the human race. One of them pipes up with the cracking idea of getting a human to breed with a vacuum cleaner (this may explain the big grin on a Henry’s face):      

Is this the face of a molested appliance?

 This isn’t as easy as it sounds, which can’t be that much of a shock to anyone. Apparently, the way you do it, is launch an enormous amount of clay martian space jizz at an unlucky victim, who will then be instantly compelled to hump whatever he can get nearest to, regardless of gender (more on this later), species or even sentience. Like so:      

Nope, that ain't birdshit.

 Anyhow, lucky man picked is Vernon, the tramp, and he wastes no time in hilarious mounting an upright vacuum cleaner and pumping away. This apparently, and for reasons never properly explained, gives the vacuum life.    

   

 In the meantime, A bored suburban couple (Tom and Beverly) are having marital difficulties. Tom (who is allegedly English, although I thought he was an Aussie until another cast member said “he’s English”) spends hours every day in the bathroom beating off while watching their next door neighbour (Rena) shave her enormous man-eating lion of a bush. Beverly, on the other hand, is in a manic keep-up-with-the-Joneses rampage that has pushed them to the brink of penury. She needs a new Vacuum, but Tom is skint, so for reasons never properly explained he goes and buys a beaten up, recently violated Hoover from a gangster. Vernon, however, is currently in some kind of psychiatric therapy to turn him into a functioning member of society, but he’s not doing well, because of his love for Dusty.   

Tom comes home, and Beverly is unimpressed at the new cleaner. However, in a bid to show willing and inject some spark back into their marriage, she makes him some aphrodisiac tea (guaranteed to put the wang back in his wanger). She spills it, uses the Hoover to clean up, which stimulates it beyond a recommended level. Tom is in the bathroom beating off again, looking at Rena so is unaware of the peril of an engorged Dusty who rapes and murders Beverly. With me so far? Good.   

Tom sees the remainder of the spilt tea, and so (whoops) breaks out Dusty to clean it up. He’s then on the receiving end of an appliance violation. The next day, Tom is arrested by two LAPD (one of whom  is clearly Welsh as he’s married to a sheep), neither of whom believe his story about a sex-crazed vacuum cleaner. Fortunately Rena does. But she would, because…   

 She’s also, it must be noted now (this will be important later) in a relationship with a colossal douchebag. He’s an idiotic hippy well in need of a slap to the chops (or being raped by a vacuum), and he doesn’t understand her need to eat meat, sing ridiculous 80’s music badly and shag the mulletted English goon living next door. She also, and this is also important, works in a law firm as a secretary. This gives her access to a Lawyer to represent Tom:   

This is how you hire a sleazy lawyer for some Pro Bone work

Anyhoo, Tom goes to trial, and the only witness he can find is Vernon (still in love with Dusty), who doesn’t really help matters much. His proclamation that he’s come out of the closet (as a homosexual, not someone that shags household cleaning devices) is met with howls of derision in the courtroom. Tom, at this stage, looks fucked. However, all is not lost, as a now heavily-pregnant Rena (don’t ask) gives birth to a half human-half vacuum cleaner in court, completely vindicating him. It seems to be lost on everyone that said baby looks exactly like a cabbage patch doll stuffed in a dustbuster cover, but nevermind that nonsense. Shenanigans ensue, Yoga-hippy-douchebag gets shot and Dusty escapes with Vernon. The police pursue, and gun dusty down. Film ends happily with Tom and Rena married and she’s a multi-platinum selling hair-metal artist. Who is, it must be said, better than Bon Jovi.   

Douchebag.

There are good things about this film, mostly that it’s fucking funny. But, there are many, many bad things. The claymation martians are crap, and the stop-motion on Dusty’s various shenanigans ain’t great either. The acting is atrocious and the script wretched. Direction and music wise, it’s a complete fucking shambles, but really none of that matters because it’s a raucous farce of a B-movie about a rampant vacuum cleaner.   

So overall, do I recommend it? Well, it depends. Did you find that plot description funny? If you did (like I do) then you’ll love it. However, on any reasonable level of film-making it’s a gigantic fail. Nevertheless, it was one of the more enjoyable schlocky films I’ve seen recently, and if the mood for some silliness takes you, then you can do far worse than this little gem. I shall be rewatching it next time I’m hammered and I can’t say I’ll begrudge the time. 

Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars- silly, shoddy fun. 

Until next time, 

Jarv.

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About Jarv

Workshy cynic, given to posting reams of nonsense on the internet and watching films that have inexplicably got a piss poor reputation.

7 responses to “Jarv’s Schlock Vault: Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars”

  1. Continentalop says :

    I’ve just read your review three times – I have no fucking clue what the hell this film is about.

  2. just pillow talk says :

    Er, I think I’ll pass on this one and take your word that it’s funny.

  3. ThereWolf says :

    Hold on, did you just say a vacuum cleaner…

    I’m at a loss for words.

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