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Inevitably, there are spoilers here, but — and I say this as a certified spoilerphobic — this really isn’t that kind of movie. Nevertheless, read with care. Furthermore, as you can probably see from the title screens above, this is technically Attack of the Phantoms, the European theatrical re-edit of the original TV version of Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park, which was the only version I had access to. The differences between the two edits can be found online. I doubt the original version corrects any issues I had with the film, but again, I haven’t seen it, so who’s to say?
What is it? Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park, directed by Gordon Hessler, written by Jan-Michael Sherman & Don Buday, and starring Anthony Zerbe, Carmine Caridi, Deborah Ryan, Terry Lester, Lisa Ann Persky, Brion James, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, Peter Criss, and introducing Gene Simmons as The Demon.
First viewing? After 44 years, finally, yes.
What’s it about? Amusement park ride and robot inventor Abner Devereaux (Zerbe) is fired by management when his inventions become too costly and don’t bring in money, unlike the Kiss concerts the park is hosting. Devereaux vows to destroy Kiss, with the help of his mind-controlled assistant Sam (Lester). Meanwhile, Sam’s girlfriend Melissa (Ryan) investigates Sam’s strange behavior.
What are your thoughts about it? If you’ve never read Chuck Klosterman’s epic Kiss article on Grantland, keyed to the eve of their introduction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, you should do that. It tells you everything you need to know about the band; you could go in with zero knowledge of their existence and come out the other side conversant with their lineup changes and catalog oddities. (I think I’ve read it close to twelve times; it’s a great piece of writing.) A loose summarization of one of Klosterman’s threads is: Kiss are a cynical, cynical band. They are a band that has the soul of a corporation, even when they were just four guys playing clubs. The purpose of Kiss isn’t to make Kiss music, but to sell the Kiss brand. If that means releasing a million greatest hits compilations with the same songs over and over, or releasing “live” albums that were actually juiced up in the studio, so be it. (According to Klosterman, Paul reportedly said of Alive II, “It was as live as it needed to be.”)
ACAB but also FYBJ (Fuck Yeah Brion James)
This cynicism runs core to the band’s existence. As a way to stand out from their peers, they put on crazy makeup and costumes (importantly, not the same makeup and costumes), brought out the theatrics (including fire breathing), and generally faked like they were the biggest band in the world until they were the biggest band in the world. There were many reasons for Kiss’s success, but if I had to boil it down to one, I’d say the makeup and the costumes were the tipping point. Most bands around this time with costume gimmicks had everyone wearing the same thing (Paul Revere & the Raiders, Devo, The Monks). The genius move here was giving each member their own distinctive theme1 (music critic Chuck Eddy: “a cat, a bat lizard, something with one black star on one eye and something with one silver star on each eye”). These looks were more than just interesting visuals. They implied a cosmic backstory. They implied mystical powers. And a such, there was absolutely no way they wouldn’t be a hit with the kids, because the kids would recognize what these qualities implicitly stated: these were superheroes. The cynicism comes in because 90% of their songs are about fucking, and it never occurred to them to change that once their audience expanded.
So, the idea of a Kiss movie isn’t that cynical — musicians have been making movies for nearly as long as the technology has existed. But one produced by a cartoon studio (Hanna-Barbera), takes place in an amusement park (Magic Mountain) and broadcast on network television (NBC)… brother, that takes some cojones. Kids were a new market, and by golly, it was open for business.
I’m with you, kid.
So what is this thing? It’s part Scooby-Doo, part Futureworld, part Universal horror, part superhero movie and part Kiss concert. In other words, it’s not really anything. The strongest leg of this penta-stool is the concert footage, which is fun and manages, unlike anything else in the movie, to get across why Kiss were popular in the first place. Every head pivot, shoulder shake, and guitar pose is the Platonic ideal of “rock and roll moves.” The rest is wobbly 2. The robots don’t make much sense within their own context; why are these $130,000 (in 2022 money) miracles of engineering being used as glorified carnival ride attractions? The idea of Kiss fighting the classic Universal monsters is a good one, but limp direction and obvious Kiss stunt doubles renders it flat. (The climax when Kiss fight their robot doubles is even worse.)
Spaceman (Ace Frehley) and Starchild (Paul Stanley) about to be attacked by robots from the Chamber of Thrills.
The biggest disappointment, though, is that it bungles the idea of a Kiss mythos. It’s there in dribs and drabs: the magical talismans3 and the powers they impart, the sporadic use of their alternate/code names, the idea that they literally fly through the air to their concerts, Gene the Demon’s hilariously altered voice when he intones such lines as, “No gratitude need be voiced; your mind speaks to us.” I have no doubt that kids all over the world invented scraps of Kiss lore to explain who these stage personas are and what they can do. The movie fails these kids. It’s not that it doesn’t give us LOTR-style info dumps; it’s just that it all seems so half-hearted and unimportant as any other element of the movie. Then again, maybe this problem was insurmountable. The Starchild, the Demon, the Spaceman and the Cat-Man should seem like aliens or gods, and when they’re on stage, they come close. But everywhere else, they’re just Stanley Eisen, Chaim Witz, Paul Frehley and Peter George Criscuola, looking vaguely uncomfortable and out of place4.
The best composition in the whole film, one that brushes up against the cosmic epic it could have been.
But, if what we require from a Kiss movie is that it accurately reflect the band at the time — not the one in our imaginations — then Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park is perfect. The conflict between Devereaux and Kiss is encoded as art versus commerce5, making this one of the few films I know where art is the bad guy. Devereaux is presented as a head-in-the-clouds genius who is too focused on his own obsessions to give the people what they want. “It’s never been about the money to me,” he says, making him the Antichrist in Kiss terms. When he’s fired by Calvin (Carmine Caridi), the park owner, Devereaux’s rage is not about the loss of his job per se, it’s that he’s being pushed aside by crass commercialism. When he’s defeated6, he doesn’t get carted away by authorities while ranting about meddling rock stars, nor does he get a dying monologue. He just kind of fades away, smothered by forces greater than him.
The end of the best shot in the whole film. (See footnote #6.)
On the other side, as the ostensible heroes of this narrative, Kiss the movie characters do as little as possible for as long as possible. They arrive, play a show, and immediately encounter Melissa, upset that her boyfriend Sam has walked past her like a robot (because he’s being mind controlled by Devereaux). Paul, or “Starchild,” uses his eye powers to inform her, first, that “you’re looking for someone, but it’s not Kiss” and then that Sam is “still in the park,” which everyone knows because he literally just walked by7. One could call this sloppy writing. I prefer to consider it an accurate depiction of the characters, who think of themselves as the center of the universe and have zero to contribute. Immediately afterwards, Melissa is hanging with the band outside their compound/rented mansion/hotel they bought out (it’s not clear what it is), and feeling bad because she can’t find Sam. The band responds, not by using their superpowers or fabulous wealth to help, but by serenading her with a rendition of “Beth,” their biggest hit sung by their 4th best vocalist.
“My name’s actually Melissa, but thank you anyway.”
As both an artistic endeavor and as an exercise in brand management (Kiss’s, Hanna-Barbera’s, Magic Mountain’s), Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park is a failure. (It makes Magic Mountain, a pretty good amusement park at the time, look cheap as hell.) Just a little bit of effort from all concerned could have turned this from a curio, denounced by the band, to something truly worthy of its cult status. But, to paraphrase Devereaux: why try to argue art with a bookkeeper? It exists to take up space on a ledger. Paul may disown it, but the movie is as good as it needs to be.
This is my oldest possession. It’s been with me for approximately 45 years, having survived through college, countless apartments, two houses and three kids.
How many stars out of five? Two. It’s still Kiss.
Where can I stream it? Unfortunately, you can’t. The easiest legal way to see it is to get Kissology Volume Two: 1978-1993, a DVD collection of concerts and TV appearances. (Non-affiliate Amazon link.)
What can we take from it? Regardless of its quality, Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park is a key Against the ’70s text. It’s about rock stars with magical powers who fight an amusement park ride designer with an army of robots at his disposal — what’s not to love about that? That’s incongruity, baby, and here at Against the ’70s, incongruity is our bread and cinder blocks.
I think ultimately where the film fails (and something I need to keep in my mind as I work on this project) is that it’s hard to give a shit about the characters. (Only Devereaux’s feelings are explored in any depth, and it ain’t deep.) The story called for some soap opera — nothing intricate, just big emotions expressed bigly. It makes me realize that one of the touchstones I’m working from are the Marvel and DC comics from around the ’60s to the ’80s. Those worlds are full of weird, conflicting, incongruous things, but the attention to character and emotions are what ultimately stiches it all together and make the incongruous stuff fun.
Anyway, one of my future projects is an AT70s rock and roll sourcebook for the Cypher System, featuring rules for rock star player characters, rock star patrons, rock star villains, rock and roll cyphers and artifacts, and, ideally, an adventure that makes good on the unfulfilled promise of Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park8. But until that day, let’s take a look at two things we can take from the movie: the Kissbots and the Talismans.
THE KISSBOTS: PAULBOT, GENEBOT, ACEBOT, PETERBOT (CREATURES)
The Kissbots are all essentially the same, only differing in their various specializations. Paulbot has a laser eye, Genebot is strong and has fire breath, Acebot is acrobatic and Peterbot is… well, Peterbot can play drums.
Level: 4
Description: They look just like the members of Kiss. Well, usually. Sometimes they look like other people wearing Kiss makeup.
Motive: To follow the orders of Abner Devereaux.
Environment: Robot labs and concert stages.
Health: 12
Damage Inflicted: 4
Movement: Short
Modifications: Paulbot is level 5 in communication tasks, Genebot is level 5 in strength tasks, Acebot is level 5 in acrobatic tasks, and Peterbot is level 5 in croaking out “Beth.”
Combat: In combat, Paulbot will use his blackstar eye to shoot a laser at the characters, and Genebot will do the same with his fire breath. The range on both of these weapons is long. Acebot will use martial arts on a foe at close range. All four fight until destroyed.
Interaction: The Kissbots generally look and act like the real thing (especially on stage) but seem stiff and, er, robotic in their mannerisms.
Use: Bob Ezrin calls in the player characters to the studio: Kiss are acting strange. They’re punctual, egoless, and sober. Could they have been replaced with robot doubles by a sinister force? The player characters will need to hurry to find and rescue the real band, as Casablanca Records was expecting the album yesterday!
Loot: Each Kissbot can be broken down into 1d6 manifest cyphers each.
GM Intrusion: Paulbot uses his blackstar eye to strike above the characters and rain rubble down on them, causing them to take either 4 damage or force them out of the area; Genebot’s fire breath keeps characters from entering a specific area or else take 4 damage; Acebot puts a hold on a character, keeping them from moving; Peterbot plays a bitchin’ drum solo that stuns the characters for a turn.
THE TALISMANS (ARTIFACTS)
Level: 6
Form: Talismans are hand-sized objects sculpted from an unearthly metal that constantly flicker with magical energy. Talismans aren’t found randomly; each one is tuned to a specific person, and only that person can find it. The specific journey that each person must go through to obtain their talisman is up to the GM. It could be a physical journey, a mental journey, or even a spiritual one. Regardless, the goal of the journey for each person is to discover an inner strength and wisdom they didn’t know they had. A character can only have one talisman, and the shape of it is symbolic of the character in some way. Talismans are highly resistant to damage; however, if destroyed, the character can never have another.
Effect: Every talisman imparts three different abilities from the Cypher System Rulebook Revised, one from each of the tiers (low, mid, high). These abilities can come from the same ability category or different ones. (See page 95 for the ability categories.) For example, the Spaceman talisman gives the character Unarmed Fighting Style (low tier, page 194), Force Blast (mid tier, 6 points of damage, page 142), and Teleportation (high tier, page 190). Talismans are extremely powerful, and campaigns should probably be built around them, rather than dropped in like any other artifact.
Depletion: —
Originally published 3/16/22 on Substack.
It occurs to me that Cheap Trick almost accomplish the same thing, only without costumes. Would be better if Tom Petersson wasn’t just brunette Robin Zander.↩︎
One other thing that isn’t wobbly: Anthony Zerbe’s strangely committed performance as Devereaux. He never condescends to the material, which, frankly, wouldn’t have been an awful choice. He plays him as real as he can, a guy who has been betrayed by his friend, yes, but also one who truly delights in his creations. He’s present in every moment, whether taunting Kiss or expressing pride in his barbershop quartet bots.↩︎
At one point, Melissa says it would be nice if everyone had a talisman. Paul replies that everyone does have one, they just don’t know it. This may have been intended as feel-good, “you have the power!” messaging, but coming from Kiss, it sounds like a declaration of superiority over the stupid normies.↩︎
Gene is a possible exception. It’s no wonder he went on to a minor film career — he loves the camera and the camera loves him. Doesn’t hurt that they give him all the cool stuff to do, like throw security guards around and breathe fire.↩︎
This art vs. commerce theme, and the story, is damaged by the introduction of mind-control chips that Devereaux uses on Sam and the three gang members. He’s shown doing this before he gets fired and swearing vengeance on Kiss, marking him as a villain and completely undermining his character’s tragic nature. Also, I genuinely thought Sam was going to be revealed as a robot all along, which would’ve made the Melissa subplot more interesting.↩︎
I haven’t the foggiest idea what is supposed to have happened at the end. Kiss, Melissa, and park owner Calvin confront Devereaux in his base of operations. But he doesn’t move. “He created Kiss to destroy Kiss, but he lost,” says Calvin, and the camera zooms in on Devereaux, unmoving and inexplicably old, with white hair and white eyelashes. Is he dead? Zerbe moves, but it’s not clear if that’s just an inevitable mistake from asking actors to be completely still. Is he effectively braindead? Maybe, but if so, why? Then, just to make it more confusing, we cut to a replay of the earlier shot when, after being fired, Devereaux morosely walks under the rollercoaster and, just as he leaves the frame, breaks out into a smile. (See pic above.) If I were the editor, I’d replay it too, it’s the best moment in the whole movie. But why is it here? For a moment, I thought maybe it suggested Devereaux had killed himself, but not before making a robot version of himself to extract revenge (and to avoid punishment.) But nothing here supports that.↩︎
Later, after Devereaux tries to frame the band by having a Genebot go on a rampage, Paul uses his eye power to spy on a “private” discussion (it’s like twenty feet away) between Calvin and the security guards. Calvin tells the guards they can’t accuse the band of wrongdoing while Kiss still have concerts to perform that bring in a lot of money. Therefore, a) Paul’s eye has to power to see the obvious b) the band’s real power is to flatter capital.↩︎
[4/4/24] Doesn’t exist as of this writing, but still a pretty good idea!↩︎
