Tripping the Rift, the irreverent Sci-Fi Channel show known for its wild, cutting-edge CGI animation and lusty sense of humor, gets a bawdy, full-length treatment in this unrated feature film.

A sort of intergalactic South Park with a hearty helping of questing spirit, Tripping the Rift tells the saga of a bunch of derelict mutant misfits who live, work and play on the starship Jupiter 42, controlled by a neurotic A.I. being known as Spaceship Bob. Bob’s neuroses are kept in check by the fat, verbally abusive pilot T’nuk (Gayle Garfinkle, offering up a wan David Hyde Pierce impression), while the ship’s inner workings are tended to by robot Gus (voiced by Maurice LaMarche, of Pinky and the Brain), the melancholic chief engineer. No one’s really sure what job is performed by teen slacker Whip (voiced by Rick Jones), but everyone has a definite idea of the specialties of sexy android Six of Nine (voiced by Jenny McCarthy) — she’s the buxom, custom-crafted love slave of Captain Chode (voiced by Stephen Root, of Office Space), a snide, walking purple blob of rancor who hates his crew and feeds off their returned carping disrespect. As Chode and his crew work on their latest money-making scheme in the space princess protection racket (something at which they’re not necessarily very skilled), a cyborg killing machine known as the Exterminator is sent back in time by their nemesis, Bobo, to eliminate them all.

Desperate Housewives, Star Wars and the Terminator series all get tweaked here, and oral sex jokes abound, with plenty of Georgia O’Keefe imagery also trotted out to visually hammer home the point. All the characters here are pretty much your standard two-dimensional types, which cuts both ways: it made the movie very easy to pick up for someone like me, unfamiliar with the series, but it also means that an awful lot of the scenes are pretty rigidly defined in terms of what they offer comedically. The highbrow-meets-lowbrow art design of the project, though, is at times intriguing — Tim Burton-esque black-and-white animation rubbing brusquely up against garishly colorful, far less angular creations.

Housed in a regular Amray case with a cardboard slipcover, Tripping the Rift is presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English language Dolby digital 5.1 and Dolby surround 2.0 audio tracks. A seven-minute making-of featurette includes interview snippets with the show’s voice cast and creators, and gives a nice overview of the series’ inception and coarse raison d’etre. To purchase the movie via Amazon, click here. C (Movie) C+ (Disc)

Welsh rockers Man had some success in the late 1960s and early ’70s, turning out noodling rock jams. By 1976, though, Mickey Jones was the only founding member of the group left. He was joined by guitarist Deke Leonard (then on his third stint with the band), drummer Terry Williams, bassist John McKenzie and keyboardist Phil Ryan. Despite a couple years together with this roster, they all decided to part ways, and put together a farewell tour (nevermind that they would reform in 1983, actually) which culminated with a trio of shows in December of 1976, at the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm.

Unfortunately for Man fans, this newly released concert disc, running 52 minutes in total, doesn’t offer up the full set, but rather just six tunes from the band’s relative heyday — “Let the Good Times Roll,” “7171-551,” “Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You,” “C’Mon,” “Born with a Future” and “Bananas.” On the plus side, there is plenty of interview footage interspersed between the musical numbers. Draining pints together, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of drama or acrimony to the split; McKenzie just says there’s been “spilt milk,” and everyone is interested in pursuing different musical avenues. (In a moment of somewhat unintentional amusement, Ryan says that he wants to be in a band with three female singers.) Manager Barrie Marshall and road manager David Hall also pop up talking about their work with the band; the former seems kind of drained, like he’s watching the promise of a mortgage payment go up in smoke. Finally, there’s also a bit of rehearsal and backstage footage, with Jones stretching and warming up, and Ryan letting loose with a shimmery keyboard riff, and explaining that “people on certain substances like that kind of thing.”

Housed in a regular-sized, clear Amray case and presented on a region-free disc, this DVD plays in full screen, and the video — a combination of 8mm and 16mm, I’d say — is well-worn, and certainly not the title’s strongest selling point. The stereo audio, however, is strong and consistent, both in the performance segments and during the interview chats. Apart from a short essay by Jon Kirkman on the inside sleeve of the DVD cover, there are unfortunately no supplemental bonus materials here, though, further making this title of interest only to a small niche audience. To purchase the disc via Amazon, click here. C+ (Concert) C- (Disc)