The mid-1970s were a fascinating time for sci-fi. It was the decade just before Star Wars and Alien reshaped the genre forever, when filmmakers were pushing boundaries with experimental visuals, wild concepts, and sometimes gloriously strange ideas. The decade revelled in this newfound freedom, evolving sci-fi past the B-movie territory of the ’50s and the initial out-of-the-box efforts of the ’60s, taking the work of Kubrick in 2001: A Space Odyssey and building from it.
This boom of experimentation produced many duds but also more than a few gems. Franchises were born, replacing cult classics as the main source of power within the genre. Sadly, although perhaps inevitably, some of these films slipped under the radar or were dismissed in their day, only to reveal themselves as cult classics decades later. Now, 50 years later, these underrated sci-fi gems of the ’70s deserve a second look from audiences that are far more open to what they’re offering. Luckily, they’re available on streaming.
‘A Boy and His Dog’ (1975)
“To hell with the Girl. I got the Dog.” A young Don Johnson got his big break in this pitch-black post-apocalyptic satire, based on the novella by genre legend Harlan Ellison. The premise is bizarre yet compelling: a young man and his telepathic dog scavenge for food in a wasteland ravaged by nuclear war. While that may sound like an action-packed Mad Max-style survival tale, the movie is actually pretty thoughtful and theme-driven, using dark humor and sexual politics to make a poignant, often discomforting, but always relevant social critique.
Indeed, A Boy and His Dog is incredibly cynical about human nature. It suggests that even after civilization collapses, cruelty and selfishness remain constants because they’re inherent to our way of life. This pessimistic worldview culminates in the shocking final twist, one of the most audacious and polarizing endings in science fiction. It still divides viewers today, as it should. It all means that, for fans of sci-fi that refuses to be sanitized, A Boy and His Dog is an essential watch. Raw, uncomfortable, and unique.
‘Phase IV’ (1974)
“We knew then we were being changed… and made part of their world.” Phase IV is the sole feature-length directorial effort from Saul Bass, the graphic designer who made title sequences for filmmakers like Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick. It’s a strange, cerebral story about hyper-intelligent, rapidly evolving ants threatening to take over the world. But rather than playing as a straightforward creature feature, the film is more of an abstract meditation on communication, evolution, and humankind’s fragile place in the natural order.
There’s a hypnotic, unsettling rhythm to the movie, heightened by its ambiguous ending. Bass’ distinct eye for meticulous visual detail is very much on display here, particularly in mesmerizing macro-photography of the ants. Though it was ignored on release, and like many of sci-fi’s most singular and non-conforming efforts, Phase IV has become something of a cult movie. It’s also notable for being the very first film to depict a crop circle, coming a full two years before the first people claimed to see them, a fun detail that should also be food for thought.
‘Zardoz’ (1974)
“The gun is good.” Zardoz may be most remembered now for Sean Connery’s infamous red costume, but it’s a lot stranger and more interesting than that image suggests. Here, director John Boorman, from Point Blank and Deliverance fame, envisions a post-apocalyptic future divided between brutish “Exterminators” and an immortal elite living in decadent stasis. Connery’s character, Zed, begins as a violent enforcer but ultimately becomes a destabilizing force, igniting some much-needed change in the society.
Through this pulpy conceit, the movie engages with some big themes, including oppression, mortality, and entropy, all while serving up a steady stream of surreal, often outrageous imagery and a truly singular Connery performance, an actor who rarely ventured outside his comfort zone. It’s messy, ambitious, and at times deeply weird, but it’s also a genuine attempt at philosophical science fiction in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Though derided in its day, Zardoz has earned cult status as both a camp classic and a film of hefty ideas. It’s a perfect example of ’70s sci-fi daring to be bold and baffling in equal measure.
‘Dark Star’ (1974)
“Don’t give me any of that intelligent life crap, just give me something I can blow up.” John Carpenter’s low-budget first feature began as a student film, but the finished product is way better than its humble origins would suggest. Co-written with Dan O’Bannon, who would later famously pen Alien, it follows a crew of bored astronauts stuck on a long, tedious mission to destroy unstable planets. The movie gleefully bucks genre conventions. Rather than glamorous adventurers, these astronauts are slackers, whiling away years of isolation with absurd conversations and existential musings.
Space is depicted not as a heroic frontier but as absurd, endless drudgery, and the humor is dry and strange. A case in point is the scene involving the sentient “smart bomb” debating philosophy before deciding whether to detonate. All in all, while clearly rough around the edges, Dark Star is both funny and oddly poignant, a tough balancing act for which it doesn’t receive nearly half the respect or recognition it deserves. It laid the groundwork for the mix of sci-fi and horror that Carpenter and O’Bannon would later perfect in their future, much more iconic efforts.
‘The Man Who Fell to Earth’ (1976)
“Get out of my mind! All of you!” Starring David Bowie in his first major acting role, The Man Who Fell to Earth revolves around an alien who arrives on Earth seeking water for his dying planet, only to be undone by human greed and temptation. The character is fragile and otherworldly, and Bowie’s ethereal, detached, legitimately uncanny presence proves the perfect match for the role. It also adds an interesting meta dimension, riffing on his world-renowned persona as a pop icon.
The aesthetics deliver, too. Nicolas Roeg’s fragmented editing style and hallucinatory imagery make the movie feel decidedly dreamlike. This distinct visual approach is in service to the message, a deep dive into alienation, addiction, and the corrupting, outright destructive force of consumerism. It all could have come across as didactic, but, refreshingly, the movie avoids getting preachy, offering no easy answers or even a straightforward message. As one might expect, audiences didn’t respond to it on release, perhaps wanting something a little more clear-cut sci-fi story, but nowadays, The Man Who Fell to Earth is considered a masterpiece of the genre.