John Carpenter Directed A Cult Classic Sci-Fi Comedy Before Becoming A Master Of Horror

John Carpenter's thematically connected Apocalypse Trilogy — which comprises "The Thing," "Prince of Darkness," and "In the Mouth of Madness" — is the ultimate test of faith. All three movies offer bleak landscapes steeped in nihilism, telling isolated stories that prove that humanity never had any hope to begin with. Some stories are lessons in paranoia-fueled xenophobia, while "In the Mouth of Madness" specifically tunes into a more esoteric interpretation of the end of the world. Carpenter weaves a suffocating net of terror with this uncanny triptych, underlining his strongest impulses as a horror director who comprehends the language of fear. So much so that his beloved, mainstream horror entry "Halloween" feels almost cozier in comparison to the thematic ushering of an apocalypse that leaves mankind utterly helpless and alone.

Then there are his post-apocalyptic forays, such as "Escape from New York" and "Escape from L.A.," which take a dramatic, action-packed route to convey the most entertaining B-movie sensibilities. This streak can be more or less seen throughout the rest of his oeuvre (except for when these ideas culminate in brilliance, like in "They Live" or "Assault on Precinct 13"). Given Carpenter's knack for genre-hopping, it wouldn't be outlandish to think that his feature debut was a horror or action drama, one that predicted the kind of films he would be making throughout his career. However, Carpenter's first film, which also happened to be a graduation project, was a sci-fi comedy like no other.

I'm talking about "Dark Star," the Carpenter cult classic made with a meager budget of $60,000, which employed a brand of humor so thematically bleak that the viewing experience can end up feeling downright existential. Although Carpenter frames a lot of genre staples in a deliberately lackluster fashion, "Dark Star" helped anticipate sci-fi classics like "Alien" (!), thus urging us not to take its underrated legacy for granted.

In 1970, classmates John Carpenter and Dan O'Bannon started working on a sci-fi comedy that was meant to parody Stanley Kubrick's dazzling, operatic "2001: A Space Odyssey." The duo wanted to focus on the more mundane aspects of space travel, drizzled with instances where things go comically wrong, such as a self-destructive room in a spacecraft that blows up the crew's supply of toilet paper.

We get some foundational information about this world: Mankind has colonized interstellar space, sentient computer systems oversee space missions, and most information systems are now armed with artificial intelligence. However, none of these facets matter in "Dark Star," as the film doesn't perceive space travel as an awe-inspiring adventure. Instead, it is a blue-collar job where folks are underpaid/overworked, and forced to confront existential ennui that is almost as tedious as enduring the same five coworkers inside a cramped spaceship. A serious horror flick would capitalize on this hellish cabin fever, but "Dark Star" portrays it as a mind-numbingly boring (and darkly nihilistic) endeavor. Like Carpenter once said, the film is like "Waiting for Godot" in space.

While Kubrick's "2001" infused space travel with a transcendent quality, "Dark Star" took a more bleak, disinterested approach to this sci-fi trope and stretched it to absurd extremes. O'Bannon and Carpenter's film wasn't a commercial hit or a critical darling on release, but it underwent reappraisal and soon achieved cult status, inspiring genre standouts like Ridley Scott's "Alien." Scott rebrands the 1972 film's existential ennui into pit-of-your-stomach dread in "Alien," where the former's onboard bickering gets streamlined into a taut "us vs. them" battle for survival.

"Dark Star" alternates between funny and profound, weaving an unpredictable journey that should be experienced at least once in your life. I urge you to watch it if you enjoy midnight movie marathons that include grungy comedies set in space. Do it for John Carpenter!