Sci-Fridays in the Cosmic Crypt: A Review of Lifeforce (1985)

I’ve seen some weird shit in the decades spanning my horror and sci-fi obsession, but few films have hit that sweet spot of “what the actual hell am I watching?” quite like Tobe Hooper’s Lifeforce. This 1985 gem sits in that perfect cultural blindspot—too expensive to be forgotten, too bizarre to be mainstream, and too damn fascinating to ignore.

THE $25 MILLION GAMBLE THAT FAILED (UNTIL IT DIDN’T)

So it’s the mid-80s, and Cannon Films decides to hand Tobe Hooper (the maniac behind Texas Chain Saw Massacre) $25 million dollars—astronomical money for a genre film back then—to adapt a novel called The Space Vampires. Just let that sink in. The same company churning out Chuck Norris actioners and ninja flicks decides their big prestige play will be… space vampires.

What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, apparently. The film barely scraped together $11.6 million at the box office. Critics were divided—Gene Siskel called it a “guilty pleasure” while Janet Maslin of the New York Times dismissed it as “hysterical vampire porn.” Not exactly the outcome Cannon was hoping for with their most ambitious production to date.

But here’s the thing: sometimes the biggest failures make for the most enduring cult classics.

A PLOT THAT DEFIES SANITY (IN THE BEST WAY)

So what the hell is Lifeforce even about? Get ready to have your brain hosed down by a geyser of crazy.

A joint UK-US space mission investigating Halley’s Comet discovers a 150-mile alien spacecraft hidden inside. Because poking around abandoned alien vessels always ends well, they bring back three naked humanoids in crystal coffins. The female (played by Mathilda May) wakes up on Earth, escapes completely nude, and starts draining people’s life energy, turning London into ground zero for a vampire apocalypse.

Only Colonel Tom Carlsen (Steve Railsback), the sole survivor of the original mission who shares a psychic connection with the Space Girl, can help the military stop her before all of humanity becomes desiccated husks. It’s like someone threw Dracula, Alien, The Quatermass Xperiment, and a hefty dose of hallucinogens into a blender.

THE TWO CUTS: HOOPER’S VISION VS. NERVOUS EXECUTIVES

There’s actually two versions of this madness floating around—Hooper’s 116-minute international cut that has coherence and flow, and the butchered 101-minute US release that Tri-Star mandated. The American cut hacked out crucial exposition scenes and even required rescoring sections of Henry Mancini’s surprisingly epic soundtrack.

Yes, THAT Henry Mancini. The “Pink Panther” guy. Working on a space vampire movie. The 80s were wild, man.

If you’re going to watch this film (and you absolutely should), track down the international cut. The narrative actually makes sense, and you’ll get the full experience of Hooper’s vision.

THE NAKED SPACE VAMPIRE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

Let’s address what everyone remembers about this movie: Mathilda May spends about 90% of her screen time completely nude as the Space Girl. It’s both the film’s most notorious element and its most obvious marketing angle.

But here’s the thing—in context, it actually works. May’s nudity isn’t played for cheap titillation (okay, not JUST for cheap titillation). There’s something genuinely alien and predatory about her performance. She moves with this otherworldly confidence, completely unconcerned with human modesty, focused only on feeding. May brings a genuinely unsettling presence to the role that elevates it beyond mere exploitation.

Could the same effect have been achieved with, you know, clothes? Probably. But this was a Cannon film in the 80s. Subtlety wasn’t exactly their brand.

THE PRACTICAL EFFECTS STILL SLAP

For all the film’s flaws, the special effects work is legitimately impressive, especially for 1985. The team at Apogee went all-in creating techniques no one had seen before. They bounced lasers off flexible mylar to create the ethereal energy effects. The zombie-like husks left behind after feeding are grotesque practical masterpieces. The team created over 1,800 hand-drawn mattes for the flowing energy effects.

When the apocalyptic chaos hits London in the third act, the destruction looks tangible in a way CGI still struggles to replicate. And the final showdown in St. Paul’s Cathedral, with energy bursting through the dome? Chef’s kiss.

It’s that old-school craftsmanship that gives Lifeforce its distinctive visual identity, a look that hasn’t been duplicated since. As one effects team member noted, they worked “twelve hours a day and turned out literally thousands of feet of film” just for the laser effects. That dedication shows.

THE SCENES YOU CAN’T UNSEE

If you’ve seen Lifeforce, certain moments are permanently burned into your brain:

• The Space Girl walking naked through shattered glass without a care in the world.
• Patrick Stewart (yes, Captain Picard himself) getting possessed and then French kissing Steve Railsback to transfer the alien’s essence. Stewart goes ALL IN on this role, by the way.
• The helicopter scene where the Space Girl explodes into a puddle of blood.
• The zombified victims literally exploding into dust when they can’t feed.
• The apocalyptic London scenes with hordes of energy-hungry creatures swarming the streets.

Each of these sequences has this fever-dream quality, like someone filmed your weirdest nightmare and somehow got it distributed by a major studio.

WHY IT FAILED (THEN) AND WORKS (NOW)

Lifeforce was simply too weird for 1985 audiences expecting another Alien or traditional horror film. It defies categorization—part cosmic horror, part vampire film, part disaster movie, with healthy doses of eroticism and existential dread thrown in.

But that same weirdness is exactly why it’s found a devoted following over the decades. In an era of focus-grouped franchise films, something as boldly bizarre as Lifeforce feels almost revolutionary. It represents a time when “even big-budget films were once allowed to be adventurous and idiosyncratic.”

It’s messy, horny, violent, and totally committed to its outlandish premise. For better or worse, they simply don’t make ’em like this anymore.

THE ULTIMATE VERDICT

Is Lifeforce a great film? Not by traditional standards. It’s uneven, sometimes silly, and occasionally incoherent even in its complete version.

But is it a fascinating, one-of-a-kind experience that deserves its cult status? Absolutely.

There’s genuine artistry alongside the exploitation elements. Hooper’s direction, the cutting-edge practical effects, Mancini’s score, and yes, even Mathilda May’s committed performance as the most dangerous naked alien in cinema history—it all adds up to something special, if deeply strange.

Ultimately Lifeforce is at once an awful movie that manages to somehow be hugely entertaining. Four decades later, it stands as an exemplar of creative risk-taking—a big-budget oddity that followed its bizarre vision to its logical conclusion, commercial prospects be damned.

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