There is a reason why Bert I. Gordon's American-International cheapies were paid more lip service than the works of Ed Wood on the now-defunct Satellite of Love: the man carries the dishonorable title of being one of the most inept directors of low-budget schlock. But whereas stuff like "The Amazing Colossal Man" (a man turned giant by atomic testing) and "Beginning of the End" (Peter Graves vs. giant grasshoppers) had a certain charm reflective of the 1950s' "high- concept/low-budget" brand of sci-fi, "Empire of the Ants" is a bottom-feeder from start to finish, trying desperately to capture the low-grade magic of a bygone era. The only real merit of "Ants" is its nostalgia value--yes, I would watch this as a child and be utterly terrified of those bloodthirsty, radiation-grown buggers; years later, the puppet heads being shaken off-camera are less than impressive (as is Gordon's excessively shaking camera during the attack scenes), as is the stock footage blown up to make the ants tower over our human protagonists. The exposition scenes are painfully awkward, the dialog mostly atrocious, and the performances reflect this (with dismal results). The film is padded out with nonsensical clichés (the old couple who wanders off for no reason; the girl who sprains her ankle; another who gets snagged on a branch) and incredible lapses in logic (why can't our zeroes see or hear a cluster of ants that are mere feet away?), which culminates in a third act that apparently tries to wax philosophical in the vein of H.G. Wells' original story (which I haven't read) but falls flat on its face. "Empire of the Ants" is an interesting epitaph for a genre that has long since passed, but its best possible fate will probably be drunken viewing at your next house party.