Earth has been quietly taken over by the Monitors, a polite cadre of men in black overcoats and bowler hats who seek to curb humanity’s violence, sexuality, war, and trouble. They enforce their creed with spray-can pacifying gas and with television ads that praise their rule, a surreal blend of propaganda and whimsy that threads through daily life. The film follows Barbara Cole, a movie actress who collaborates with the Monitors, and introduces the tangled web that drags in Harry Jordan, a bold freelance pilot, and Max Jordan, Harry’s impulsive brother, as events spiral into a strange street-level confrontation. The mood blends satire with sci‑fi intrigue, inviting the audience to watch a quiet invasion wear the mask of public service announcements and theatrical bravado.
A loud, ramshackle street preacher named Stutz (Stutz) sparks the clash that pulls the characters into a larger crisis. His boisterous scenes push Barbara into danger and force the Monitors into direct contact with SCRAG — the Secret Counter Retaliatorial Group, an anti‑Monitor resistance with its own uneasy code. The preacher’s machinations reveal SCRAG’s shadowy reach and send the story into a dizzying mix of loyalties: [Harry Jordan] remains aligned with the Monitors for the moment, while [Barbara Cole] and [Max Jordan] are pulled into SCRAG’s orbit. After a series of twists and reversals, the central figures are briefly united once more, and they set a risky course for Washington, D.C., to derail a SCRAG plot that would attack Monitor headquarters. The tension hinges on whether the human players can outpace the whims of a ruling order that claims moral superiority, even as their path back toward one another becomes a race against time.
The Monitors, ever-present and unflinching, watch these human struggles with a clinical calm and then step back to withdraw their influence. In a finale that leans into satire as much as fate, they decide that humanity, in its current form, is not worthy of their leadership and withdraw from the world stage. With the monitors gone, humanity is suddenly free to slip back into its familiar cycles of violence and corruption, a provocative ending that lingers over whether peace ever truly stood a chance. The film’s playful embrace of media, myth, and power is amplified by gleeful cameos and on-screen personalities that punctuate the satire, from Xavier Cugat in the ads to the revolving door of Monitors’ personalities who appear in the broadcast interruptions, and from the vocal narrations by Tom Erhart and Mel Zellman to the on-camera voices that punctuate the satire. The result is a movie that feels like a dream of control and consequence, delivered with a wink and a nod to the era’s television culture.
