The Italians are at it again. Crippled by an incoherent script, this Italian-made space opus is lost in the vacuum of space. The title, minus the word "Cosmos," was used a decade earlier during the very 'mod' 60's. The runaway satellite in that film was child's play compared to this leaky albatross. This film deals, badly, with a more lethal out-of-control planet. The man in charge, the director, had to have been on a three-day coffee break. The extras rush and jump around in a swirl of confusion. Some high school productions are more organized. One actor pronounces the word data as "da-da." When the landing party finds living beings on the planet, they all resemble an army of metallic "Mr. Cleans." Crazy. A few of the female crew members are painted into their threads. And the ridiculous skull caps are definite turn-offs. Future technology is represented by scratchy video monitors and blinking boxes of gyros and lights. Organ music saturates the soundtrack with grunts and groans, piped in from a very dark place. The final showdown pits a rabid crewman against the lead Mr. Clean. Both souls are jettisoned out an air lock. Have a nice trip.