Ted V. Mikels’ The Astro-Zombies is the kind of movie that revels in its own absurdity, serving up a bizarre cocktail of dismembered bodies, reanimated killers, and international espionage. While it’s far from a masterpiece (or even a coherent film), its sheer B-horror audacity and pulpy visuals have a way of sticking in the mind.

Anchored by John Carradine’s portrayal of the mad scientist Dr. DeMarco, the film spins a wild tale involving killer robot-zombies powered by solar energy, a trail of female murder victims, and an eclectic mix of spies—from Chinese communists to Mexican secret agents. It’s a lot to cram into a low-budget thriller, and the result is predictably chaotic. Plot threads come and go with little regard for logic, and the performances range from hammy to outright wooden. Yet, there’s a certain charm to its unpolished enthusiasm, a quality that endears it to fans of offbeat cinema.

What The Astro-Zombies lacks in storytelling finesse, it makes up for with its striking concept and visuals. The titular astro-zombies, while clunky in execution, are undeniably memorable with their grotesque, Frankensteinian appearance. Mikels imbues the film with a retro-futuristic aesthetic, all garish lighting and crude laboratory setups, that captures the spirit of 1960s B-movies.

For all its flaws—and there are many—it’s hard to entirely dismiss The Astro-Zombies. There’s an undeniable charm to its hodgepodge of ideas, even if the film ultimately stumbles under the weight of its ambition. While its appeal is niche, those with a taste for campy, low-budget horror might just find themselves entertained by this strange little relic of the 1960s.

• Saul Muerte