Ah, Radar Men from the Moon, a title that promises so much and delivers… well, not quite what one might hope, unless one’s hopes involve watching grown men in tin-foil suits exchange awkward fisticuffs on suspiciously Earth-like lunar landscapes. This 1952 Republic serial is less a film and more a charming collection of cliffhangers, strung together with a budget that likely rivaled the cost of a decent steak dinner.
The plot, if we’re being generous in calling it that, follows Commando Cody, a hero in a leather jacket and what appears to be a repurposed scuba tank strapped to his back, as he battles moon men bent on world domination. Yes, moon men—because nothing says cosmic threat quite like humanoids who look like your neighbor’s bowling team after a long night out. Their grand weapon? A “radar ray,” which, despite its intimidating name, appears to be about as dangerous as a malfunctioning toaster.
Commando Cody is played with the kind of square-jawed earnestness that makes one long for a single moment of irony, while his foes, led by the villainous Retik, are so campy they make pantomime villains look positively Shakespearean. Retik, bless him, seems to have all the strategic prowess of a broken GPS, and his lunar henchmen are so delightfully inept that one wonders if their moon-based civilization might have been better off staying under the radar—literally.
The action is delightfully repetitive, with endless chases, fistfights, and explosions that recycle so much footage you begin to suspect the editor had one reel of stock film and a dream. The special effects, meanwhile, are a masterclass in mid-century frugality. Rockets dangle on visible wires, lunar sets look suspiciously like the Mojave Desert, and the titular radar weapon is so laughably low-tech it might as well be a glorified flashlight.
And yet, despite—or perhaps because of—all its shortcomings, Radar Men from the Moon is a riotously entertaining watch. It captures the innocent, unselfconscious optimism of early science fiction, when the mere concept of jetpacks and lunar colonies was enough to set imaginations alight. There’s a certain charm in its no-frills earnestness, its can-do spirit, and its unshakable belief that mankind can overcome even the most ridiculous of adversaries with pluck and determination.
Would I recommend it? Absolutely, but only if you watch with the right mindset—and perhaps a strong drink in hand. Radar Men from the Moon isn’t a cinematic masterpiece; it’s a time capsule of a bygone era, a perfect companion for a night of nostalgic fun and affectionate eye-rolling. Like a vintage comic book come to life, it’s a reminder of a simpler time when heroes were heroic, villains twirled invisible mustaches, and the Moon was just a soundstage away.