This 1981 British sci-fi horror romp is basically what happens when you mix a barren alien planet, a chainsaw, and a very questionable approach to childbirth. Director Norman J. Warren took us on a trip to the cold, unwelcoming depths of space… and left the doors open for every form of intergalactic STD imaginable.
The plot is gloriously chaotic: twelve scientists stumble into a cave system, poke around crystals that pulse like your drunk cousin at a rave, and—surprise!—one of their number ends up impregnated by something that looks like it should have its own tax-exempt status. From there, Inseminoid happily devolves into a kill-fest that alternates between slasher-level gore and sci-fi absurdity. Chainsaws, harpoons, green alien fluids—basically, if it’s in reach, it’s a potential murder weapon or pregnancy catalyst.
Judy Geeson, in the starring role as Sandy, carries the film with a mix of genuine horror and unintentionally comedic bravado. Her performance oscillates between “I’m terrified” and “I’m an alien-enhanced serial killer with a toddler in my uterus,” a dichotomy that the film leans into with gleeful abandon. The supporting cast mostly resemble the human equivalent of a cautionary tale: if you wander into alien caves, especially wearing a designer space suit, you will die in a creative and oddly specific way. Chainsaw foot amputation? Check. Green-liquid rape? Check. Eating your coworker’s entrails? Oh, they didn’t leave that off the checklist.
Warren’s direction is unapologetically cheap and charmingly amateurish. Chislehurst Caves and Gozo provide the backdrop for what could generously be called “ambiance,” but really just looks like someone asked, “How can we make this underground parking garage feel otherworldly?” The practical effects—crafted by Nick and Gloria Maley, yes, the very people responsible for some of Satan’s lesser offspring—range from “delightfully grotesque” to “oh my God, is that a sock?” The alien baby sequence alone is worth a rewatch for sheer audacity, an image that haunts dreams and moderately disturbs brunch conversation alike.
The score by John Scott is electronic, eerie, and at times hilariously melodramatic—perfect for the scene where you’re supposed to be terrified but instead just appreciate the synthesizer’s commitment to panic.
Critically, Inseminoid had a rough ride: most reviewers dismissed it as a cheap Alien knockoff, but in hindsight, that’s like saying a flaming dumpster is a cheap bonfire. It’s not elegant; it doesn’t have to be. It’s a horrifying, thrilling, and occasionally absurd ride that revels in its own ridiculousness. If anything, the film deserves credit for taking the worst nightmares of both childbirth and sci-fi isolation, mashing them together, and daring you to watch.
By the final credits, the planet is littered with corpses, the surviving twins are already plotting their own interstellar mischief, and the audience is left thinking, “Well… that was a lot.” Inseminoid isn’t for everyone, but for those with a taste for gory space horrors and the kind of dark humor that comes from watching your favorite archaeologists butchered in inventive ways, it’s a cosmic delight.
Verdict: Equal parts Alien homage, horror-show chaos, and bad decisions in a spacesuit. Watch it for the thrills, stay for the alien pregnancy logistics, and never, ever volunteer for a planetary excavation.
