Z.P.G. (1972)

Z.P.G. a/k/a Zero Population Growth is one of those movies Oliver Reed made in Europe in the '70s, earning a nice paycheck, but not doing much for his body of work. Rather than go the US and rise to greater heights, Ollie chose to stay in England and farm himself out for projects like Z.P.G.

Director Michael Campus has had a strange career. He made five features between 1972 and 1976, including the blaxploitation classics The Mack and The Education of Sonny Carson, the speculative Biblical epic The Passover Plot, and Z.P.G., a dystopian science fiction film that was his debut. Campus recently directed his first film in over 30 years, the Straight-to-video, holiday-themed Thomas Kinkade's Home for Christmas, based on the early life of the self-proclaimed "Painter of Light," who pioneered mass production of cheesy landscapes.

Speaking of cheesiness, the special effects in Z.P.G. are definitely not your flashy Industrial Light and Magic/CGi-type FX. More like your '50s-era low-budget, visible strings on the spaceship-type stuff. The premise, however, is fairly serious. In a dystopian 21st Century, pollution and overpopulation threaten to destroy humanity, so the government outlaws childbirth for the next 30 years, under penalty of death.

As an alternative, couples can "adopt" creepy-looking robot children, but that option is not acceptable to Carol McNeil (Geraldine Chaplin), who, along with her husband Russ (Oliver Reed), works in a museum display of '70s Culture. It's a good gig, with plenty of space, extra oxygen rations, and a hydroponic vegetable garden, but it's not enough.

She wants a baby.

After having sex with her husband, she decides not to make use of the government-issued Abortron in the bathroom, and to keep the baby. And thus the conflict begins. She is forced to hide in the bowels of the museum, lest she be discovered and summarily executed. The method of choice is a floating plexi-glass gas chamber that can euthanize a family of three in under thirty seconds. There's also a bounty paid to anyone who alerts the authorities, which, with the lure of payment and a general "If I can't have one, neither can you" attitude, creates a scary mob mentality that threatens the couple at every turn. It's not just the authorities they have to watch out for, it's other people.

While the special effects are not great (to say the least), luckily the polltuion is so thick that you can't really tell most of the time. It is the performances that stand out, especially Chaplin, who like her father Charlie, can convey a wide range of emotions without saying a word. Oliver Reed, looking fit in his early '70s prime as a leading man, doesn't have much to do in the first half of the film, but delivers the action in the latter half.

Good supporting performances by Don Gordon (Bullitt, Out of the Blue) and Diane Cilento (the real life ex-wife of Sean Connery) as the McNeil's co-workers, who discover the truth, and threaten them with exposure, unless they can co-parent.

Z.P.G. belongs to a sub-genre of dystopian sci-fi that also includes Soylent Green, Logan's Run, Zardoz, and the more recent Children of Men, and is definitely worth a rental, if only for Chaplin and Reed's performances.


The 2008 DVD release is strictly bare bones, lacking director commentary or even the original trailer.

A shorter version of this review was first published at Viewpoints.com, where you can read hundreds more of my write-ups, mostly film-related, as well as my reviews of books, local Austin places, various types of junk food, and some damn fine ales.

Oliver Reed's Greatest Hits!

Oliver Reed's Greatest Hits by JM Dobies, Austin Classic Movies Examiner

A rundown of Ollie's greatest roles, in ascending order.

The Ransom a/k/a Maniac a/k/a Assault on Paradise a/k/a The Town That Cried Terror (1977)

Released by American International Pictures in 1977, and reissued under several titles over the next few years, this turgid potboiler features ridiculous action sequences, a dopey script, and a cast of veteran actors picking up a quick paycheck. Namely Oliver Reed, sporting an exaggerated American tough guy accent, a sweaty and hungover looking Stuart Whitman, an equally sweaty John Ireland, and the laconic Jim Mitchum, son of Robert. The female lead is played by Deborah Raffin, who followed her early success in The Dove and Once is Not Enough with roles in made-for-television movies and B-flicks. This movie falls into the latter category, even if director Richard Compton gives the film the flat, cheap look of a '70s TV series.

The ludicrous plot concerns a series of murders by crossbow in a corrupt Arizona resort town, with the killer (Paul Koslo, who you may recall from his awful performance in Tomorrow Never Comes) demanding a ransom from the wealthy businessmen who run the town. Trying to keep a lid on things, Whitman hires world-weary mercenary Nick McCormick (Reed) and his faithful bald companion Wolf (Paul Lussier) to terminate the blackmailer with extreme prejudice.

A series of absurd set-pieces ensue, while the wealthy are picked off one by one, and Reed reaches the boiling point after Wolf gets an arrow in the back.

Reed is photographed to emphasize his short stature, while his scenes with Raffin are particularly incredulous. She's a TV reporter, he's a soldier of fortune. He steals her microphone, she confronts him, he pulls a gun on her, she sleeps with him.

It's totally '70s.

Originally entitled The Ransom, the film was rechristened Maniac in the fall of '77, with a lurid ad campaign created to tie it in with the Son of Sam killings. It later showed up at drive-ins and grindhouses, and on TV under the titles Assault on Paradise and The Town That Cried Terror.

Yeah, this movie is a piece of shit, but it has its moments.

Originally published in BLOG! by JM Dobies 16 May 2008.

Though currently unavailable on DVD, the VHS can be found cheap under the titles Maniac and The Ransom.

I'll Never Forget What's 'Isname (1967)

My favorite Oliver Reed film is 1967's I'll Never Forget What's 'Isname, directed by Michael Winner. I first saw this movie on Canadian TV on the midnight movie on CJOH and it has stuck in my head ever since. Back then, I enjoyed it for the psychedelic dream sequences, the dolly birds, and the good ol' "frank sexuality." Watching it again on DVD thirty years later, I find it still resonates, but for different reasons.

The films begins with Reed, as hotshot commerical filmmaker Andrew Quint, walking purposefully down the streets of London with an axe over his shoulder. When he reaches his office at the Lute Organisation, a large advertising firm, he proceeds to chop his desk to pieces, then tenders his resignation to his Machiavellian boss, Jonathan Lute, played by the one and only Orson Welles.

QUINT: I'm going to find an honest job.

LUTE: Silly boy. There aren't any.

And so begins Andrew's journey, the rejection of his entire way of life, which includes breaking up with his two mistresses (Marianne Faithfull, Lynn Ashley) and making peace with his estranged wife (Wendy Craig). He takes a job at a failing literary journal where he gets involved with yet another woman, the innocent Georgina (Carol White).


The film deftly juggles drama and comedy, with Welles supplying much of the humor, and was groundbreaking in its portrayal of sexuality. In fact, it was condemned by the Catholic Motion Picture Office upon its US release in 1968, because of a scene that implied that Reed was going down on White, and also because Faithfull screams out the F-word (obscured by traffic noise, but still clear enough to outrage the bluenoses at the time).

The Super-8 commercial Quint makes at the end of the film is still dazzling -- one would think that director Michael Winner would have gone on to greater things, but this film is the best thing he ever did. It is also one of Oliver Reed's finest performances, and one of Orson Welles's better roles in his long period of decline. There's a scene towards the end of the film where Reed kicks Welles out of the editing room, a bitter irony that mirrors Orson's being shut out of the post-production process on The Magnificent Ambersons and Touch of Evil.

The supporting performances by White, Craig, and Harry Andrews (in a genuinely creepy role as a dirty-minded poet laureate) are also tip top, as is the script by Peter Draper, an underrated screenwriter who also wrote The System. Francis Lai contributes the eclectic musical score, ranging from the fuzz-guitar-driven main title theme to lush orchestral pieces.

Several other Reed-Winner collaborations, The System (a/k/a The Girl Getters), The Jokers, and Hannibal Brooks, are also well worth a second look.

I'll Never Forget What's 'Isname is definitely worth seeking out, an underappreciated gem from the height of Swinging London, and one of the best British films of the '60s.

Released on DVD by Anchor Bay Home Entertainment, but it has gone out of print, so shop around for a reasonable price.