Not of This Earth (1957) – Review

Roger Corman, the king of “How much movie can I squeeze out of pocket change?” delivers again with Not of This Earth, a sci-fi flick that’s equal parts bizarre, hilarious, and surprisingly captivating. This 1957 gem feels like it was concocted after someone handed Corman $5 and dared him to make a movie about alien vampires. Spoiler alert: he nailed it.

The film kicks off when a mysterious man in a sharp suit and sunglasses, day or night, he never takes them off, walks into a doctor’s office and demands a blood transfusion. But this isn’t just a case of low iron. Turns out, this pale, unblinking fellow is Mr. Johnson (Paul Birch), an alien envoy from the planet Davanna. His species is suffering from a catastrophic blood disease, and Earth’s plasma is looking mighty compatible. With the fate of his race on the line, Mr. Johnson is on a mission to harvest humanity’s hemoglobin, and nothing will stand in his way. Johnson rents a mansion and hires a nurse, Nadine (Beverly Garland), to assist with his transfusions. He also uses his alien powers, like death-ray vision and mind control, to keep people in line. Naturally, his overly formal demeanour and vampiric tendencies make everyone suspicious, but this is 1950s sci-fi, so people take a while to connect the dots.

“Could you see about getting me blood supplied in bulk?”

Nadine, however, starts piecing things together, especially after her boss starts “disposing” of nosy deliverymen and unlucky passersby. With the help of Johnson’s bodyguard/manservant Jeremy Perrin (Johnathan Haze), who, while a cheap crook, draws the line at intergalactic murder. With bodies piling up and her old boss, town physician Dr. Rochelle (William Roerick), under Johnson’s hypnotic control, things start to get a little tense. Eventually, it comes down to a lot of running around and the timely intervention of Nadine’s hunky boyfriend/motorcycle cop Harry Sherbourne (Morgan Jones), but can they stop him before he calls for reinforcements and turns Earth into a cosmic blood bank?

I wonder if he has to call collect on that thing.

Stray Observations:

• Mr. Johnson’s sunglasses aren’t just a fashion statement; they’re clearly his planet’s way of saying, “We’ve never seen Earthlings, but they must LOVE weird aviators.”
• The alien’s briefcase is supposed to hold advanced technology, but it looks like it’s hiding someone’s lunch. Maybe he’s storing alien PB&Js in there?
• Mr. Johnson pays for his blood transfusions in cash—proof that even intergalactic vampires know Earth healthcare won’t take alien insurance.
• At one point, Mr. Johnson sits down to read a newspaper. Why? Is he catching up on Earth politics? Looking for the sports scores? Browsing the classifieds for “extra blood donors”?
• Beverly Garland had alien problems a year earlier in Roger Corman’s It Conquered the World. She just can’t catch a break when it comes to close encounters of the third kind.
• Dick Miller, everyone’s favourite Corman stock player, has a memorable turn as a vacuum cleaner salesman.

“This device can even suck the spilled blood from shag carpeting.”

With Not of This Earth, Roger Corman, the undisputed king of “do more with less,” gives us all the alien invasion tropes on a dime-store budget. Want flying saucers? Sorry, not in the budget. How about alien technology? Prepare for sunglasses with extra flair and a mysterious metallic briefcase that screams, “We’ll explain later.” Clocking in at a brisk 67 minutes, it packs its modest runtime with alien invaders, mysterious deaths, and tons of melodramatic tension, proving that you don’t need much money to leave an impression—just a good pair of sunglasses and a lot of fog machines. Corman’s knack for stretching a dollar is evident. The film boasts eerie, otherworldly vibes thanks to the clever use of minimalist sets, stark lighting, and a haunting theremin-laden score.

As for the aliens, they are less than haunting.

Paul Birch, as the alien invader, delivers a performance that’s somehow both wooden and menacing. He’s like a dapper Dracula from outer space, shuffling around with a steely gaze and an obsession with bodily fluids. You never know whether he’s going to sip your blood or ask you for a loan. Then we have Beverly Garland, who shines as Nadine, the nurse who somehow doesn’t question why her boss keeps dodging sunlight and asking for “unusual” medical treatments. Garland brings depth and intelligence to a role that could have easily been relegated to “screaming damsel.” Her character’s skepticism and bravery make her a standout among other sci-fi heroines of the era. And you can’t help but admire actors who can pull off lines like “If I do not receive blood within four chronoctons of time, I will have no need of emotion.”

“He’s got Bette Davis eyes.”

As for the special effects? Forget CGI, the special effects here are pure 1950s B-movie fare: glowing eyes, ominous sound effects, and a menacing flying umbrella that’s supposed to be an alien weapon. It’s laughable by today’s standards, but there’s a charm in the handmade, “we’ll-make-it-work” aesthetic. Corman’s use of shadowy cinematography and minimalist sets compensates for the lack of budget, creating a moody atmosphere that gives the film an eerie quality despite its silliness. It’s simultaneously ridiculous and a little terrifying—a perfect encapsulation of Corman’s ability to balance schlock with genuine creepiness.

“When umbrellas attack!”

In conclusion, if Ed Wood had been given half-decent lighting and a script that made sense, he might’ve come up with something like this. Not of This Earth is unapologetically absurd, but it’s also brimming with Corman’s trademark energy and “let’s put on a show” creativity. It’s campy, quirky, and full of old-school sci-fi charm. Plus, how can you not love a movie where sunglasses are the ultimate alien disguise? This is the kind of movie you throw on when you want to laugh at something trying so hard to be serious that it loops back around to comedy gold. It’s a glorious mess, a time capsule of 1950s sci-fi nonsense, and an absolute riot and strangely satisfying—a classic Corman concoction that proves you don’t need millions of dollars to make a fun, memorable movie.