Flying Saucers Over Istanbul (1955)

Hi all, Nate here with a quickie from lands neither Europe nor Asia, a Hollywood-style tale of an alien invasion thwarted by a combination of blind luck and sitar polka music. Following in the well-worn strapless flats of countless b-movies before and after them, the aliens of our film are horny, imperious, sexually-frustrated hot chicks who have just plain run out of men on their own planet so they've come here for ours.

Space Babes!

Their “spaceship” looks like a concrete sewer pipe entrance.

Unfortunately (for them and us) the first two men that they come in contact with are ugly morons with bad fashion taste. One dude is dressed like he's covering the pony races at Churchill for a local Tennessee newspaper in 1937, and the other guy has stolen Paris Hilton's hat and still thinks turtlenecks are cool. If I were the alien babes, I'd just pack up the spaceship and head off for our lunar companion where the Nazi Moon Base is full of strapping, handsome Teutonic studs.

Our planet is doomed!

Surely they could do better.

The alienettes capture our dullard dudes and tell them of their plans to make them husbands/sperm-donors to repopulate their planet. Both guys are less than thrilled at this prospect, for some reason I cannot comprehend. As the space girls are uniformly intelligent, sophisticated, beautiful, buxom, and more than willing to do the kinky stuff on the first date, one wonders why any Earth man would turn down their offer. Seriously, is there some sort of application I can fill out right now? I've got a pencil.

Yes, her with the sexy nun's habit.

Ok, ok, yes, you all can come, too.

The two guys, however, are more interested in the aliens' Secret Fountain-of-Youth Elixir, deviously planning on stealing it and selling it to old, gross, wrinkly Turkish widows at an exorbitant mark-up. But the alien Space Queen tricked them and actually let them take the Secret Elixir of Insanity, otherwise known as liquid Space-LSD. The drug makes everyone in town go nuts and the aliens roll in and zap them with their Freeze-Ray Guns and make fun of their haircuts and skinny ties. I'm not really making up that last part, these alien girls are just as catty and bitchy as Earth girls, just with a greater knowledge of cold fusion and interplanetary space travel.

Dealing the drugs.

Space Ladies show up for the party.

Things look bad for Earth, but first we must dance! Every single female in this movie, alien or human, seems to be a closeted belly dancer just aching for a chance to bust a swervy, sultry hip-shake to a tamburine beat. This movie should really have been titled Belly Dancers and Maybe a Couple Other Things. I can't complain, though, there's something inherently hot about an exotic belly dancer in the throws of an erotic hip-shaking, hair-flying, cymbal-clinking whirlwind of sound and sex. But can you have too much belly dancing in any movie? I would have thought not, but there's about 80% too much of it in our movie. In fact, a full 20 minutes is belly dancing by a variety of flexible young ladies gyrating to Darbuka drums, which is about a third of our movie's scant run-time. If this movie was (for some reason) shown in a Taliban/ISIS theater then after the censors finished cutting out any scene with sinful dancing and then went through the negatives frame-by-frame and Sharpied on beards to all the men, there wouldn't be much left of it.


There's belly dancing in the spaceship, both for the pleasure and pain of our kidnapped human dudes, because dancing is the universal language of the cosmos, apparently. The alien outfits are tight leotards and Taylor Swiftian high-waisted shorts, and I can imagine that doing any sort of strenous dancing in them would be difficult. And where is that music coming from? Can you get to in outer space?

Lay down that krunk matt!

Work those eyes.

There's also furious belly dancing at a fortuitously seculded dance club in a nearby town. One of the dancers there is (apparently?) a Turkish Marilyn Monroe impersonator in real life (?), amazingly credited as "Mirella Monro" just in case her curvy hips, platinum hair, and dead eyes were not a give-away. 1955, remember, back when Marilyn was still the ultimate sexpot and not just an internet meme to be silkscreened on a t-shirt from Walmart.

Happy Birthday Mister Ataturk?

And there was probably some dirty, sweaty belly dancing at the grandmas-only stripclub afterparty Kelby was at last night because he just stumbled into the office at 11:30 and he looks like shit and smells of Turkish wine, hash, and Depends.

Oh Kelby, you need to slow down, bro.

Who doesn't belly dance? The men, of course, and the alien's “female” robot, mostly because she ("it"?) is just a terribly uncomfortable plywood and cardboard suit spray-painted silver weighing down some hapless stuntman working for scale. This might possibly be the worst robot suit I've ever seen in a b-movie in my entire life, and yes, I have said that before.

Hahaha, that's comedy gold.

Anyway, so the alien Space Queen rightly decides that Earth men are just too stupid and lame for their needs and they fly off into space. They do take the two jerks with them, hopefully to do painful medical experiments on before ejecting their mutilated corpses out the airlock. But, sadly, they are probably just going to let them manipulate them into becoming Kings of their planet in the sequel, Flying Saucers Over Istanbul 2: Interspecies Lovin' Bugaloo. Just once I'd love to see one of these “Female Aliens Want our Men” b-movies where the chicks just nuke us from orbit, since it's the only way to be sure.

No no no, he's not Mister Right.

God, neither is this greasy mouth-breather, come on, girls.

Just fry them with your Lazer Dildo and move on, ok?

The End.

Written in June 2017 by Nathan Decker.

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