Back in the 1980s, a series of low-budget space plays took over the airwaves on public access television, mesmerizing audiences nationwide. These were the broadcasts of Unarius, a whacky UFO space cult (that’s definitely not a cult) helmed by a kooky old woman in clown make-up and a crystal emblazoned wig named Ruth Norman. With psychedelic effects, unintelligble dialogue, and unfollowable plots, these movies somehow managed to ensnare the minds of thousands, bringing them to Unarius headquarters in El Cajon, CA where many other desperate loners like themselves clung to the hope of reincarnation, a higher purpose, and a role in an improvised space movie where maybe they’d get to wear a fun costume. But is there something more to this old dingbats sputtering nonsense?