"Martians Go Home" - staged in 1989 by director David Odell, a reckless and reckless adaptation of the novel of the same name by Frederick William Brown, an American writer, a virtuoso master of the super-small (his micro-story strikes with extreme conciseness and at the same time the depth, scale of the plan, recalling Hemingway's "iceberg principle") of small and large forms.
The main character (Randy Quaid; “Independence Day”, “Ghosts of Goya”) is a musician who used to play in a band, and now writes soundtracks for television shows, in his work preferring unlicensed remakes. To put it simply, it is a classic.
Working on two regular orders (hybrid program “Let’s get married?” with women’s wrestling in the mud and sci-fi thrash about the contact of mankind with furry space bears), he goes to a remote country house, away from noise, fuss and other distractions. Having halved a bottle of vodka, sits at the keys of the faithful synthesizer "yamaha", and then inspiration descends on him.
The hero’s wife (Margaret Colin; “Devil’s Property”, “Three Men and Baby”, again – “Independence Day”) works on the radio, and for the soul writes paintings, the main characters of which are sushi and celery.
Deciding to share with her the results of his inspired country creativity, the hero calls her to work, and a piece of the future soundtrack accidentally breaks into the air.
The next morning, a stranger (Barry Sobel) appears in the hero’s cabin, dressed in all green and with a green face. Reports that he came from Mars, that he knows everything about the hero, even the fact that he cheats in solitaire, and that his collection of vintage records right now is trying to make an apartment thief (John Philbin, “On the crest of the wave”).
On the same day, the universal arrival of Martian guests to Earth begins. The guests are noisy and eccentric. The model of their social behavior combines the habits of stand-up comedians (which, in fact, are all artists engaged in the roles of Martians) with the concern of puberty teenagers and the characteristic grips of a professional wedding tamad.
Martians suddenly teleport in the most unexpected places - whether in a TV studio, or in a private bedroom - make a mess, a mess and stand-up comedy, and just as suddenly disappear.
They read minds. They expose, they have a natural tendency to scandal, intrigue and investigation. And, of course, to tear off all the cover.
Ever since they appeared on Earth, everything has gone awry. No secret thoughts, no deception and tricks, no, in the end, solitude!
The main character, who was lucky enough to become the first contactee, the first among earthlings exhausts the limit of patience and refuses nerves. Realizing that the alien invasion has something to do with the melody he wrote, he decides to put an end to all this madness. With a faithful yamaha over his shoulder, he goes to Washington, the White House, to the American president (Ronnie Cox; “Remember All”, “Dexter Justice”), who just records an official appeal to his and to the Martian nations.
It is logical that the hero ends up not in the saviors of the homeland, but in the madhouse. His treatment is occupied by an orthopedist (psychiatrists, in view of what is happening on Earth, there are not enough for everyone), and in the anamnesis he has a characteristic formulation: "a sharp form of rejection - the patient refuses to see aliens, not wanting to recognize their existence."
Staying in a country madhouse, long-awaited solitude and fresh air encourage the hero not only to write the first real hit (without any remakes and quotation polemics with classics), but also to make an effective plan to expel all these green comedians from the Earth. But the most important thing: he decides to finally end the lucrative hack, returning to his real dream - to real music!
Like those green Martian comedians, fooling around and pretending to be a little crazy, this film essentially reminds the viewer that Music is the universal language of communication. Linking dissimilar characters and psychotypes, she at the same time harbors some incomprehensible mystery and sublime magic. Where is the music of our entire civilization? Where would we all go without her? “To all persuasion I affirm in reply: we will not be separated, no!”
In addition, this wonderful film convincingly proves what I have long suspected, but did not know how to formulate: that all these stand-ups with their jokes and grimaces — come not from our planet, but from somewhere ... well, from Mars, yes.