It's been a while since I've done one of these. A pity, they can be so much fun to write. I hope you folks enjoy reading them as much.
Navigation. The ability to plot a course and get from point A to point B. This has become a lost art over the last few years with the rise of GPS devices. Reading a map? Who does that any more? Now you have the nice friendly voice that comes out of the little glowy box to tell you that you need to take the next exit and turn left. GPS is the equivalent of using a calculator to do simple math problems, it makes the job easier but it also tends to rot* your brain.
It is highly probable, that after the end, you might wish to get out and travel the world. Maybe as a tourist to see the wrecked monuments of our civilization's failed past. Or perhaps you just want to leave your old and difficult life behind by finding the hidden paradise that is Lost Vegas. Plenty of Food! Booze! And hot cocktail waitresses! And not a flesh-eating mutant in sight! All with entertaining shows by today's headliners? What's not to want?
I don't know the specifics of the GPS grid. Though I did read a while back that our GPS satellites are beginning to fail. This being said, I don't know how much interaction with the ground control that they require to continue to function properly. I would guess that the satellites are all rather autonomous with all the hardware that they need built right in. But I cannot say for sure.
Anyhow, the grid was only built to last for 20 or 30 years survival in the harsh environment that is space. We have not begun to replace the aging grid. We're closing on the minimum number of points necessary to keep the system going. And unless the government or industry gets off it's ass soon, we're borked. (Don't worry, Europe or China will probably step up as we - the USA- sink into obscurity).
Fun times.
Then comes the 'Pocalypse!
I'm going to assume that even if the world shattering event, the majority of road signs will have survived. After all, the ex-college students will have more important things too fill their time than collecting that super sweet stop sign for their lair. With a map and road signs, getting to where you want to go, technically, is a snap. Sure you might run into some romantic biker gangs with a little sweet old fashioned rape on their minds. And the cities are probably all infested with flesh-eating zombies. But hey, that's the price you pay for convenience.
Don't want to get your holes violated and, if you're lucky**, left for dead on the side of the road? Well, cross-country travel it is. Which is slightly trickier, but I can see that it doesn't bother you!
Human beings have been navigating the world for nearly a thousand years using simple tools such as the compass. The Empires of Europe managed to learn how to cross huge stretches of empty and desolate ocean using a clock, a compass and a sextant. The ocean all looks the same, and landmarks are few and far between – and yet people can accurately
Of course this requires a decent map as well as the other tools. You also need to know the difference between longitude and latitude on the grid. Don't know them? Well honestly, neither do I. Even after taking several geography classes I still can't keep them straight. But I'm easily confused. Just look at the Stalagmite-Stalactite, Gary Buesy-Nick Nolte, Butter-I Can't Believe It's Not Butter – conundrums. Which one's which? I don't know.
Longitude – East or West. The harder of the two to pin down. It wasn't until a highly complex watch/clock was invented that determining latitude accurately was possible. On board ship, one clock was used to keep track of time back on the Prime Meridian, and the other clock is set to local time – which itself is ascertained by carefully monitoring the path of the sun. Time zones are important here. You compare noon in your current location to what your London clock says, calculate the difference in hours and minutes and you have your general location compared to London. Just make absolutely sure that first clock is always accurate, or you'll be lost.
Latitude – North or South. Rather the north and south lines from the Equator – which represents 0 degrees. They go up to 90 at the Poles. Fairly easy to ascertain by calculating the angle of the sun. Well, not easy, but possible to do on the fly. Combine A and B, and you can find position on any point in the world. No GPS.
With over-land travel, you'll hopefully have a vague series of landmarks, like cities and roads. Even if you avoid direct contact with the roads and their rape-minded cannibalistic citizens, you'll still be able to see them from afar and thus get your bearings. With those landmarks, a compass and an atlas, you should be golden.
This is of course assuming that the world hasn't been consumed in a nuclear fire. Or covered in ten feet of volcanic ash. Or... Well if that's the case, fuck traveling and just stay home in your bunker. I think next time we'll discuss putting together a kick ass harem for the purposes of repopulating*** the world.
* Perhaps Atrophy is better than Rot here – you stop using your brain and the skills that you need to perform these tasks. This leads to you getting 'rusty'
** The unlucky ones are kept by the rape gangs for long term fun.
*** Woohoo Sex!
Showing posts with label gangs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gangs. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Hobo with a Shotgun. An interlude.
Hobo With a Shotgun
This movie is an absolute work of genius. No sarcasm.
I realize that this is out of my usual realm of material and focus, as it isn't post-apocalyptic(so far as we know) But it definitely has a Dystopian bent to it, which is close enough and shares the themes of violence and lawlessness that one would expect in a Post-apocalyptic movie. This movie makes me want to write my own Grindhouse film script, whether or not it will ever be made into a movie. I just feel the need to attempt it.
The premise of Hobo With a Shotgun is simple. A hobo (played by Rutgar Hauer) rolls into town looking for a better life, arrives in a corrupt hell-hole of a city. The city is run by a maniac and his two evil sons. They're psychotically violent and take every chance to inflict harm on the people of the city. Crime runs rampant and everyone turns a blind eye as they hope that they;ll be overlooked by the criminal elements. As any nail that sticks up too far is likely to get smashed back into the board with a sledge hammer. And then shot.
Well, the Hobo might be crushed under by life's heel, but he still has a spark of life in him. And he hates what he sees. But he goes through and tries to work his way up the hobo ladder and make his life better. Along the way he encounters the Pedo Santa, and all sorts of other trash before meeting up with the Hooker with a Heart of Gold: Standard Issue. He saves her life and sends her on her way with some fatherly advice (who the hell listens to positive advice from a bum? I prefer the 'don't do this or you'll end up like me' sort of advice, else you might be falling into the same trap that took the hobo as he tries to live vicariously through you).
Shit happens. The hobo acts heroically. And then is disappointed by the city once again. The Hooker saves him. He shares a story with her. They bond and develop a father and daughter relationship. And then he gets his shotgun. No. It wasn't just a clever symbolic title. This movie is exactly what it advertises to be. Simple, straight-forward premise. A Hobo, gets a shotgun, and then uses said shotgun. Brilliant!
I don't want to ruin anything for you, the three people who will see these words. The movie is awesome. Find it and watch it. Mind the gore.
What I love about a good Grindhouse flick is the elaborate and imaginative death scenes. Which is why I doubt I'd ever do well in the genre. I am neither imaginative enough, nor disturbed enough to make it work to come up with such graphic scenes. I am in awe. But will stick with what I know. Zombies.
The movie is Canadian. In parts, it is VERY Canadian. Which, in my eyes, redeems the entire nation for the likes of “Stonehenge Apocalypse” and another ten movies like it. The dialogue is as over the top as the story – and it is absolutely perfect. This is Grindhouse. Everything about the genre is over the top and packing as many cheap thrills as possible into 90s minutes of mayhem.
Remember, if life gives you razor blades, you make a bat covered with razor blades. I plan to live by that very
I can't wait until this comes out on DVD. Here's the trailer.
This movie is an absolute work of genius. No sarcasm.
I realize that this is out of my usual realm of material and focus, as it isn't post-apocalyptic(so far as we know) But it definitely has a Dystopian bent to it, which is close enough and shares the themes of violence and lawlessness that one would expect in a Post-apocalyptic movie. This movie makes me want to write my own Grindhouse film script, whether or not it will ever be made into a movie. I just feel the need to attempt it.
The premise of Hobo With a Shotgun is simple. A hobo (played by Rutgar Hauer) rolls into town looking for a better life, arrives in a corrupt hell-hole of a city. The city is run by a maniac and his two evil sons. They're psychotically violent and take every chance to inflict harm on the people of the city. Crime runs rampant and everyone turns a blind eye as they hope that they;ll be overlooked by the criminal elements. As any nail that sticks up too far is likely to get smashed back into the board with a sledge hammer. And then shot.
Well, the Hobo might be crushed under by life's heel, but he still has a spark of life in him. And he hates what he sees. But he goes through and tries to work his way up the hobo ladder and make his life better. Along the way he encounters the Pedo Santa, and all sorts of other trash before meeting up with the Hooker with a Heart of Gold: Standard Issue. He saves her life and sends her on her way with some fatherly advice (who the hell listens to positive advice from a bum? I prefer the 'don't do this or you'll end up like me' sort of advice, else you might be falling into the same trap that took the hobo as he tries to live vicariously through you).
Shit happens. The hobo acts heroically. And then is disappointed by the city once again. The Hooker saves him. He shares a story with her. They bond and develop a father and daughter relationship. And then he gets his shotgun. No. It wasn't just a clever symbolic title. This movie is exactly what it advertises to be. Simple, straight-forward premise. A Hobo, gets a shotgun, and then uses said shotgun. Brilliant!
I don't want to ruin anything for you, the three people who will see these words. The movie is awesome. Find it and watch it. Mind the gore.
What I love about a good Grindhouse flick is the elaborate and imaginative death scenes. Which is why I doubt I'd ever do well in the genre. I am neither imaginative enough, nor disturbed enough to make it work to come up with such graphic scenes. I am in awe. But will stick with what I know. Zombies.
The movie is Canadian. In parts, it is VERY Canadian. Which, in my eyes, redeems the entire nation for the likes of “Stonehenge Apocalypse” and another ten movies like it. The dialogue is as over the top as the story – and it is absolutely perfect. This is Grindhouse. Everything about the genre is over the top and packing as many cheap thrills as possible into 90s minutes of mayhem.
Remember, if life gives you razor blades, you make a bat covered with razor blades. I plan to live by that very
I can't wait until this comes out on DVD. Here's the trailer.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Life don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing.
Music.
I don't know about anyone else out there. But I rather enjoy music. I've accumulated several gigabytes worth of mp3s. I have a fair, if unimpressive collection of CDs. I often tune into Pandora when I'm writing. Music has been a rather important part of my life since high school. I'm not in any way passionate about music, as I don't perform, play instruments or hit every concert that comes to town. But I do rely on my iPod to get me through bad days at work.
Music is pervasive in our day to day lives, at least here in the United States. We have access to it wherever we go, whether wanted or no. Automobiles come standard with radios, and almost every square mile of our vast nation receives the waves from at least a couple of stations. The supermarkets usually play tunes for us as we shop in an attempt to subtlety alter our moods and manipulate us into spending more cash. It is also used to key us in on moods for video games and movies.
What will the world be like when we suddenly go silent and lose the constant background soundtrack that is a constant part of our lives? Will our ears begin to ring when shocked by the lack? I do not know. Of course there will still be CDs and CD players. MP3 players too. And about a billion other mediums to choose from. Most of the plastic that these mediums were etched onto will last for a million years. So, no worries there.
They just need a steady source of electricity, and functional equipment to play.(there are of course hand-cranked record players, but they're rather obsolete. Try finding Lady GaGa's newest album for one of those old tymey hi-fis.). Paper, on the other hand, can remain hail and whole for centuries, with all the information locked on the page there for the world to read, so long as you have the key that is literacy. Then, with skill and practice you can translate that information, those series of dots, into something transcendent of the misery of every day life. On a personal note, reading music is a skill that evades me. Music theory seems to be a bunch of random rules tossed together in a bucket. I fail at this part.
At some point, assuming that humanity's grasp of technology only manages to fade into nothing, we'll be left only with whatever music we can make using the tools we have at hand. And this is ok. Humanity has survived for millennia in this very manner. We don't need music to survive. Music is one of the pleasures in life, like food and sex. Song is pure hedonism at its finest.
Now, that means learning how to sing, or if you posses a voice that's on par with a rusty screen door blowing in the wind, how to play an instrument. For the men-folk out there, women seem to be born with a obsessive love for musicians(I should have learned to play guitar or something and started a band). For the womanfolk in the audience, many men do love the sound of female voices raised in song. I tend to look for covers of songs that I like that are performed by women. Who-ever you are, if you manage to scrape together some musical talent/skill, then you'll be rather popular in the post-apocalyptic world.
This, of course, is assuming that society doesn't swing back to the whole “Music is sin, and musicians are trying to cause people to stray from the path of God/Jesus/Allah/the Flying Spaghetti Monster/Bob” ETC. Then, you might run into some trouble. So make sure you learn some religious classics to soothe the dander of the True Believers. That alone might save your life, even here and now. The religious folks know that music has power, and they want to be in control of it. So, be warned.
Music will most likely be ineffective against zombies(who knows, it may dazzle them as it tugs at their memories), and feral biker gangs. But, with a lot of luck, it could prove to our vicious alien overlords that our culture and species has some value.
I personally would like to take up the Mandolin. Though my reasons are rather stupid. I'd like to be able to take part in an exchange like This. Of course that means putting a few more ranks into seduction, and by a few I'll have to start with any.
Though This is rather creepy, it is very informative on the basics of notes and reading music.
Just a note. Air Guitar doesn't count.
I don't know about anyone else out there. But I rather enjoy music. I've accumulated several gigabytes worth of mp3s. I have a fair, if unimpressive collection of CDs. I often tune into Pandora when I'm writing. Music has been a rather important part of my life since high school. I'm not in any way passionate about music, as I don't perform, play instruments or hit every concert that comes to town. But I do rely on my iPod to get me through bad days at work.
Music is pervasive in our day to day lives, at least here in the United States. We have access to it wherever we go, whether wanted or no. Automobiles come standard with radios, and almost every square mile of our vast nation receives the waves from at least a couple of stations. The supermarkets usually play tunes for us as we shop in an attempt to subtlety alter our moods and manipulate us into spending more cash. It is also used to key us in on moods for video games and movies.
What will the world be like when we suddenly go silent and lose the constant background soundtrack that is a constant part of our lives? Will our ears begin to ring when shocked by the lack? I do not know. Of course there will still be CDs and CD players. MP3 players too. And about a billion other mediums to choose from. Most of the plastic that these mediums were etched onto will last for a million years. So, no worries there.
They just need a steady source of electricity, and functional equipment to play.(there are of course hand-cranked record players, but they're rather obsolete. Try finding Lady GaGa's newest album for one of those old tymey hi-fis.). Paper, on the other hand, can remain hail and whole for centuries, with all the information locked on the page there for the world to read, so long as you have the key that is literacy. Then, with skill and practice you can translate that information, those series of dots, into something transcendent of the misery of every day life. On a personal note, reading music is a skill that evades me. Music theory seems to be a bunch of random rules tossed together in a bucket. I fail at this part.
At some point, assuming that humanity's grasp of technology only manages to fade into nothing, we'll be left only with whatever music we can make using the tools we have at hand. And this is ok. Humanity has survived for millennia in this very manner. We don't need music to survive. Music is one of the pleasures in life, like food and sex. Song is pure hedonism at its finest.
Now, that means learning how to sing, or if you posses a voice that's on par with a rusty screen door blowing in the wind, how to play an instrument. For the men-folk out there, women seem to be born with a obsessive love for musicians(I should have learned to play guitar or something and started a band). For the womanfolk in the audience, many men do love the sound of female voices raised in song. I tend to look for covers of songs that I like that are performed by women. Who-ever you are, if you manage to scrape together some musical talent/skill, then you'll be rather popular in the post-apocalyptic world.
This, of course, is assuming that society doesn't swing back to the whole “Music is sin, and musicians are trying to cause people to stray from the path of God/Jesus/Allah/the Flying Spaghetti Monster/Bob” ETC. Then, you might run into some trouble. So make sure you learn some religious classics to soothe the dander of the True Believers. That alone might save your life, even here and now. The religious folks know that music has power, and they want to be in control of it. So, be warned.
Music will most likely be ineffective against zombies(who knows, it may dazzle them as it tugs at their memories), and feral biker gangs. But, with a lot of luck, it could prove to our vicious alien overlords that our culture and species has some value.
I personally would like to take up the Mandolin. Though my reasons are rather stupid. I'd like to be able to take part in an exchange like This. Of course that means putting a few more ranks into seduction, and by a few I'll have to start with any.
Though This is rather creepy, it is very informative on the basics of notes and reading music.
Just a note. Air Guitar doesn't count.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Did I hear something about busting a cherry?
Cherry 2000 – 1986
The setting for Cherry 2000 is post-apocalyptic America, specifically the state of Nevada. Why anyone would want to live in Nevada after the apocalypse, I don't know. But then, it is an 80s PA movie, so it doesn't really have to make much sense. Honestly, that isn't the worst offense against logic that the movie made. Living in hot, arid Nevada after the bombs fall is just one of those things I 'spose. The movie involves gangs of ruffians, fast cars and the desert, so it could just be another pale imitation of Road Warrior with some vague attempts at humor and satire thrown into the mix. Make sure you throw in some western trappings and themes (desert location, saloon scene, lone gun-slinger, roving bandits, romance between a the weak character in need of saving and the strong character who rescues them).
Sometime in the vague and not to distant future, after humanity has acquired the scientific and technological Holy Grail (for those who are wondering, the highest that we can hope for as a species is sex-bots) we seem to go and obliterate ourselves in a nuclear war. Not too badly, I would guess because we're still producing new models of cars and the main character lives in a city with futuristic looking buildings. But hey, we clobbered ourselves pretty good. Which lead to the shortage of natural resources. You hear that? They rolled up two apocalypses into one! Booyeah!
Though shortages of material goods often follow catastrophic warfare. Just look at Europe after World War 2. It was years before they were able to climb out of the pit of conflict. These shortages lead to a vast wave of recycling fervor as America attempts to find and re-use everything from extension cords to robots. This has given rise to a professional field called Trackers. Basically they're scavengers who leave civilization to go out and find the remnants of the old world and bring them back for sale. Trackers aren't well liked by the wilderness dwellers. Course the hicks out in the back woods don't really seem to like much of anything.
And so our story begins. Our hero. No, I won't go that way. The douche that the story revolves around is an executive of some sorts in the recycling industry. He hangs out all day in a futuristic warehouse that is packed with old stuff that people have carried in. After all, recycling is now considered to be a patriotic and civic duty of all Americans. Actually, I can't really be sarcastic about that, as I share that sentiment here and now.
I would think that a large variety of sex-bots available folks would be much more relaxed and less likely to fling bombs at one another. Femme-bots that come in all shapes and sizes for Of course it had to have killed the prostitution trade and everything that was connected with it. But hey, fewer diseases and less violence against women more than makes up for that in my mind. Although I'm sure some feminists will disagree, but that's to be expected. I expect that sex-bots were also made for the female clientèle, though that doesn't seem to be explored in the film.
What is explored is the twisted relations between men and women in this PA future. Don't quite know why. Were women reduced drastically in number like in A Boy and His Dog? Where nearly the entire female half of the species was obliterated when the cities of the world were nuked (the men, the movie explained, were off to war and out of the cities) Thus making female sexual partners that much more difficult to attain? That would be a shitty future, no women. Give me the plague-poc where the majority of men are killed off, leaving a lucky handful to strive to repopulate the world... he he he. Reliving those high school fantasies.
Trash King must be high up in the corporate world, as he has a nice new car and an expensive house. He also has a beautiful wife. One that is both beautiful and submissive and attentive to his every need. Some guys dream about finding a girl like that. And I'm pretty sure that was what led to the design and construction of Cherry 2000. Yes folks, we have a title. Cherry 2000 was the top of the line sex bot. This disappointed me, since given Melanie Griffith on the cover, with her bright red hair, I had assumed that she would be Cherry 2000. Nope, the title goes to the sex toy. I thought it was pretty clear that she was a robot, due to the rather simple and cliché 50s housewife way that she responded to outside stimuli. Her dialogue was rather simple and flawed. I hope this was intentional, rather than just bad writing and acting. One of those happy accidents that really drains the meaning from the scene. Dude, this guy is living the life that most lonely Japanese men would kill for.(Including Mythbuster's Grant) He's living with a beautiful robot.
But Trash King comes home from work and is waited on hand and foot by the gadget until after a few minutes when some things naturally lead to another between a boy and his anatomically perfect representation of female perfection molded out of plastic and rubber – well there's a scene where they're rolling about lustfully in a pool of water, and boom, she short-circuits and dies in his arms.
Holy shit, electronics and water don't mix you say? What madness and wizardry is this yon heretic? Begone ore face ye inquisition! Yeah, you have a sex-bot that you can kiss and spill other fluids into(thus requiring still other fluids to perpetuate the cycle and clean up after), but she's not waterproof? Really? Now that's just poor engineering. Like the herring lined chainsaw of a few years ago.
He loses his woman/robot/wife and is forced back out into the real world of male-female relationship dynamics. Something I personally know nothing about, and share the man's anxiety. Here for ya bro! His co-workers drag his mopey ass out to a club to try to hook up with something that doesn't require WD-40 and a car battery. Yes, in Club Skank, the car batteries and lubricating compounds are optional. During the club scene, all possible sexual relationships are mediated by lawyers. Needless to say, this is a moment, one of many in this movie, of utter fail for our Douche. But really, I can see why he would prefer his sex-bot over the real women of the day.
*Note, it appears that the personality disk is rather rare, and people are willing to kill for one. It would seem that the general consensus is that the Cherry 2000 model is better than the real thing. Wonder where I can buy one.
Here's where the plot and setting start to come together. Cherry is a rare model. She's broken beyond repair, except for her personality chip. Now Trash King needs to venture forth to the wilderness and go on his coming-of-age journey.
Enter Melanie Griffith as the hottie/badass of the movie. That's right, Melanie Griffith. As an action hero. She was pretty in this movie, which shouldn't matter too much. But I do prefer watching pretty women on screen than those who aren't. I'm thinking with the little-head again, but that's just how it is. But really, Melanie Griffith as an action hero? With her girlish voice? Something in this equation is creating cognitive dissidence. More than anything else in the movie, this makes me wonder if there is a lot of satire going on. To miss-cast a part so completely. Or were these types of casting decisions made by utterly incompetent suits? I just can't lay my finger on what it is.
Trash King clearly agrees with my assessment about Melanie's qualifications for the role of gun-toting mercenary. Really, she lives in Nevada and she's pale as hell. How does that work? She says that she mostly works at night, since coming out in the daylight means being seen and attacked, but still. She has to get some sun some time. The human body needs that shit. This must really blow Trash King's mind because he walks out and instead searches for someone he feels will fit his ideal description of a proper scavenger.
Just in time for the required scene in the bar. Picture the bar scene from Three Amigos, with stranger costumes and less impact. Then fast forward, for very little meaningful information is imparted. All we learn is that the outlands are a wretched hive of scum and villany. This serves to drive him back to Melanie to hire her and thus set up their romantic under-tensions as she impresses him with her absurd awesomeness and the fact that she's warm and breathing. While he impresses her with... With... Fucked if I know. Maybe he has a ten inch trouser snake stashed down one of his legs. Else he seems to be rather useless and EMO from the start.
Time after time there is something I don't understand about PA movies. The outfits. I realize that clothes are rather scarce, due to the lack of industry and manufacturing and all. This makes some for some necessity for creative costuming. But, what the fuck? Have things gotten so bad that nobody can find a farking pair of jeans and a t-shirt? Millions of them get made every year. Tens of millions more pairs have to be sitting in closets all over the world. Do you really need to dress up as a gay cowboy or a baseball player? Is this a case of “This is who I am world! Accept me!” And what the hell was up with the dude who looked like he was wearing a diving helmet? How is that even remotely practical? Isn't that like saying “Well, I got nothing else to put on, so I better just strap this old ball and chain to my leg!”
Out in the desert we meet the villain when Trash King falls into his hands due in part to personal incompetence and an ambush combined with a well placed 2x4 to the head. Onto act 3.
The most enjoyable aspect of the movie for me was the villain played by Tim Thomerson. The bizarre, blonde psychopath who leads a gang of Hawaiian shirt wearing goons. He runs a compound full of women and children, killing any scavenger who enters his territory. What's wonderful is that he isn't at all dark and brooding, he's cheerful and helpful. Even at the point where he shoots a captured tracker in the face with an arrow. What a riot. He sees himself as “Judge Jury and executioner” in those there parts. But at least he's a step up from the last utterly useless psycho and he doesn't just kill everyone he encounters. Only trackers. He even keeps the women he finds alive and makes them a relatively happy part of his community. He makes every day seem like a 4th of July party.
For a post-apocalyptic psycho, he ain't half bad.
On his compound we see why Trash King turned away from the female half of the species and leaped straight into the arms of sweet robot love. We meet one of his ex's. The Bitch is nuts. She's obsessed with sandwiches, and honestly she's mentally akin to the robot Cherry 2000 in her personality quirks. Making Trash King's obvious transition from flesh to silicone that much easier to understand.
Trashy finds the secret robotic sex shop after being rescued and dragged out there by Melanie, setting everything up for the final conflict with Tim and his gang of rascals.
I won't ruin the end of the movie for you. Really it should be blazing obvious what is bound to happen. This is after all an 80s movie. There is action, and choices are made. Some unbelievable action sequences. Not unbelievably awesome, but rather lame and poorly thought out.
What did we learn for Cherry 2000. Well, once again rope is awesome. Melanie Griffith makes heavy use of it from repelling to lassoing. Tying knots and generally carrying on awesome. She proves yet again how a mastery of the roped skills set will get you out about any situation. Rock on redhaired warrior woman! Rock on.
Mechanics. Melanie is a Jill of all Trades indeed. She takes a busted down old airplane and rebuilds it with her bare hands. Seriously she must have telekinetic powers because she doesn't even use a wrench. Then she flies the damn thing. That's PA hardcore. A tip of the hat to you lady.
Piloting aircraft. I'll get to this one in full in another post. Both of the main characters are adept at this. Who knew? Up to this point Trashy's only skills have been whining, getting into trouble and making cliche statements such as "Are you sure about this".
The art of catching and cooking food. When you live in a shit-hole like Nevada this is more important than ever. Food is rare, and what you have you'll need to make palatable.
I can't rate this one. I had to stop watching it at least twice and do something else. I don't know if it was just that bad or I was feeling restless. It's fairly amusing, so feel free to give it a go. It is available for streaming for the time being on the Netflix.
The setting for Cherry 2000 is post-apocalyptic America, specifically the state of Nevada. Why anyone would want to live in Nevada after the apocalypse, I don't know. But then, it is an 80s PA movie, so it doesn't really have to make much sense. Honestly, that isn't the worst offense against logic that the movie made. Living in hot, arid Nevada after the bombs fall is just one of those things I 'spose. The movie involves gangs of ruffians, fast cars and the desert, so it could just be another pale imitation of Road Warrior with some vague attempts at humor and satire thrown into the mix. Make sure you throw in some western trappings and themes (desert location, saloon scene, lone gun-slinger, roving bandits, romance between a the weak character in need of saving and the strong character who rescues them).
Sometime in the vague and not to distant future, after humanity has acquired the scientific and technological Holy Grail (for those who are wondering, the highest that we can hope for as a species is sex-bots) we seem to go and obliterate ourselves in a nuclear war. Not too badly, I would guess because we're still producing new models of cars and the main character lives in a city with futuristic looking buildings. But hey, we clobbered ourselves pretty good. Which lead to the shortage of natural resources. You hear that? They rolled up two apocalypses into one! Booyeah!
Though shortages of material goods often follow catastrophic warfare. Just look at Europe after World War 2. It was years before they were able to climb out of the pit of conflict. These shortages lead to a vast wave of recycling fervor as America attempts to find and re-use everything from extension cords to robots. This has given rise to a professional field called Trackers. Basically they're scavengers who leave civilization to go out and find the remnants of the old world and bring them back for sale. Trackers aren't well liked by the wilderness dwellers. Course the hicks out in the back woods don't really seem to like much of anything.
And so our story begins. Our hero. No, I won't go that way. The douche that the story revolves around is an executive of some sorts in the recycling industry. He hangs out all day in a futuristic warehouse that is packed with old stuff that people have carried in. After all, recycling is now considered to be a patriotic and civic duty of all Americans. Actually, I can't really be sarcastic about that, as I share that sentiment here and now.
I would think that a large variety of sex-bots available folks would be much more relaxed and less likely to fling bombs at one another. Femme-bots that come in all shapes and sizes for Of course it had to have killed the prostitution trade and everything that was connected with it. But hey, fewer diseases and less violence against women more than makes up for that in my mind. Although I'm sure some feminists will disagree, but that's to be expected. I expect that sex-bots were also made for the female clientèle, though that doesn't seem to be explored in the film.
What is explored is the twisted relations between men and women in this PA future. Don't quite know why. Were women reduced drastically in number like in A Boy and His Dog? Where nearly the entire female half of the species was obliterated when the cities of the world were nuked (the men, the movie explained, were off to war and out of the cities) Thus making female sexual partners that much more difficult to attain? That would be a shitty future, no women. Give me the plague-poc where the majority of men are killed off, leaving a lucky handful to strive to repopulate the world... he he he. Reliving those high school fantasies.
Trash King must be high up in the corporate world, as he has a nice new car and an expensive house. He also has a beautiful wife. One that is both beautiful and submissive and attentive to his every need. Some guys dream about finding a girl like that. And I'm pretty sure that was what led to the design and construction of Cherry 2000. Yes folks, we have a title. Cherry 2000 was the top of the line sex bot. This disappointed me, since given Melanie Griffith on the cover, with her bright red hair, I had assumed that she would be Cherry 2000. Nope, the title goes to the sex toy. I thought it was pretty clear that she was a robot, due to the rather simple and cliché 50s housewife way that she responded to outside stimuli. Her dialogue was rather simple and flawed. I hope this was intentional, rather than just bad writing and acting. One of those happy accidents that really drains the meaning from the scene. Dude, this guy is living the life that most lonely Japanese men would kill for.(Including Mythbuster's Grant) He's living with a beautiful robot.
But Trash King comes home from work and is waited on hand and foot by the gadget until after a few minutes when some things naturally lead to another between a boy and his anatomically perfect representation of female perfection molded out of plastic and rubber – well there's a scene where they're rolling about lustfully in a pool of water, and boom, she short-circuits and dies in his arms.
Holy shit, electronics and water don't mix you say? What madness and wizardry is this yon heretic? Begone ore face ye inquisition! Yeah, you have a sex-bot that you can kiss and spill other fluids into(thus requiring still other fluids to perpetuate the cycle and clean up after), but she's not waterproof? Really? Now that's just poor engineering. Like the herring lined chainsaw of a few years ago.
He loses his woman/robot/wife and is forced back out into the real world of male-female relationship dynamics. Something I personally know nothing about, and share the man's anxiety. Here for ya bro! His co-workers drag his mopey ass out to a club to try to hook up with something that doesn't require WD-40 and a car battery. Yes, in Club Skank, the car batteries and lubricating compounds are optional. During the club scene, all possible sexual relationships are mediated by lawyers. Needless to say, this is a moment, one of many in this movie, of utter fail for our Douche. But really, I can see why he would prefer his sex-bot over the real women of the day.
*Note, it appears that the personality disk is rather rare, and people are willing to kill for one. It would seem that the general consensus is that the Cherry 2000 model is better than the real thing. Wonder where I can buy one.
Here's where the plot and setting start to come together. Cherry is a rare model. She's broken beyond repair, except for her personality chip. Now Trash King needs to venture forth to the wilderness and go on his coming-of-age journey.
Enter Melanie Griffith as the hottie/badass of the movie. That's right, Melanie Griffith. As an action hero. She was pretty in this movie, which shouldn't matter too much. But I do prefer watching pretty women on screen than those who aren't. I'm thinking with the little-head again, but that's just how it is. But really, Melanie Griffith as an action hero? With her girlish voice? Something in this equation is creating cognitive dissidence. More than anything else in the movie, this makes me wonder if there is a lot of satire going on. To miss-cast a part so completely. Or were these types of casting decisions made by utterly incompetent suits? I just can't lay my finger on what it is.
Trash King clearly agrees with my assessment about Melanie's qualifications for the role of gun-toting mercenary. Really, she lives in Nevada and she's pale as hell. How does that work? She says that she mostly works at night, since coming out in the daylight means being seen and attacked, but still. She has to get some sun some time. The human body needs that shit. This must really blow Trash King's mind because he walks out and instead searches for someone he feels will fit his ideal description of a proper scavenger.
Just in time for the required scene in the bar. Picture the bar scene from Three Amigos, with stranger costumes and less impact. Then fast forward, for very little meaningful information is imparted. All we learn is that the outlands are a wretched hive of scum and villany. This serves to drive him back to Melanie to hire her and thus set up their romantic under-tensions as she impresses him with her absurd awesomeness and the fact that she's warm and breathing. While he impresses her with... With... Fucked if I know. Maybe he has a ten inch trouser snake stashed down one of his legs. Else he seems to be rather useless and EMO from the start.
Time after time there is something I don't understand about PA movies. The outfits. I realize that clothes are rather scarce, due to the lack of industry and manufacturing and all. This makes some for some necessity for creative costuming. But, what the fuck? Have things gotten so bad that nobody can find a farking pair of jeans and a t-shirt? Millions of them get made every year. Tens of millions more pairs have to be sitting in closets all over the world. Do you really need to dress up as a gay cowboy or a baseball player? Is this a case of “This is who I am world! Accept me!” And what the hell was up with the dude who looked like he was wearing a diving helmet? How is that even remotely practical? Isn't that like saying “Well, I got nothing else to put on, so I better just strap this old ball and chain to my leg!”
Out in the desert we meet the villain when Trash King falls into his hands due in part to personal incompetence and an ambush combined with a well placed 2x4 to the head. Onto act 3.
The most enjoyable aspect of the movie for me was the villain played by Tim Thomerson. The bizarre, blonde psychopath who leads a gang of Hawaiian shirt wearing goons. He runs a compound full of women and children, killing any scavenger who enters his territory. What's wonderful is that he isn't at all dark and brooding, he's cheerful and helpful. Even at the point where he shoots a captured tracker in the face with an arrow. What a riot. He sees himself as “Judge Jury and executioner” in those there parts. But at least he's a step up from the last utterly useless psycho and he doesn't just kill everyone he encounters. Only trackers. He even keeps the women he finds alive and makes them a relatively happy part of his community. He makes every day seem like a 4th of July party.
For a post-apocalyptic psycho, he ain't half bad.
On his compound we see why Trash King turned away from the female half of the species and leaped straight into the arms of sweet robot love. We meet one of his ex's. The Bitch is nuts. She's obsessed with sandwiches, and honestly she's mentally akin to the robot Cherry 2000 in her personality quirks. Making Trash King's obvious transition from flesh to silicone that much easier to understand.
Trashy finds the secret robotic sex shop after being rescued and dragged out there by Melanie, setting everything up for the final conflict with Tim and his gang of rascals.
I won't ruin the end of the movie for you. Really it should be blazing obvious what is bound to happen. This is after all an 80s movie. There is action, and choices are made. Some unbelievable action sequences. Not unbelievably awesome, but rather lame and poorly thought out.
What did we learn for Cherry 2000. Well, once again rope is awesome. Melanie Griffith makes heavy use of it from repelling to lassoing. Tying knots and generally carrying on awesome. She proves yet again how a mastery of the roped skills set will get you out about any situation. Rock on redhaired warrior woman! Rock on.
Mechanics. Melanie is a Jill of all Trades indeed. She takes a busted down old airplane and rebuilds it with her bare hands. Seriously she must have telekinetic powers because she doesn't even use a wrench. Then she flies the damn thing. That's PA hardcore. A tip of the hat to you lady.
Piloting aircraft. I'll get to this one in full in another post. Both of the main characters are adept at this. Who knew? Up to this point Trashy's only skills have been whining, getting into trouble and making cliche statements such as "Are you sure about this".
The art of catching and cooking food. When you live in a shit-hole like Nevada this is more important than ever. Food is rare, and what you have you'll need to make palatable.
I can't rate this one. I had to stop watching it at least twice and do something else. I don't know if it was just that bad or I was feeling restless. It's fairly amusing, so feel free to give it a go. It is available for streaming for the time being on the Netflix.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The exciting PA world of Eccentric Mac.
I will start out with this plain and straight forward statement: The Road Warrior is one of my favorite all time movies. I think it's one of the all around finest action movies ever filmed. Dark and brutal, it is one of the works that has inspired me in my writing. If you haven't seen it, you should. But only after you figure out how you've managed to miss a film that's nearly 30 years old and has been a stable of cable-tv since the 1980s.
I'm not the only one who was turned on by this movie. People all over the world rip this classic off. I'm sure I've seen at least two Italian movies that were 'inspired' by Mad Max. Gangs of roving bikers stalking the wastelands and attacking settlements.
And now I've found an American film. One that was so far reaching that none of the actors have pictures up on the IMDB. Most of the actors, the ones who had careers after this, went on to minor roles in TV shows. They were the lucky ones.
Land of Doom (1986) Now for my catch phrase – this is gonna hurt.
Land of Doom. Catchy and accurate title for a rather depressing place. Depressing? Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. I don't know exactly where this thing is set. Europe? Doubt it. Most of the survivors have American accents, the majority of which are clearly Standard Midwest with a few southerners thrown in. But then there are inexplicable characters who just have random European accents thrown in. As if they just appeared in the American Southwest(that's what the landscape resembles) just in time to be raped by/ flee from a band of maniacs in leather.
They all seem to be in the just picking up the pieces phase of the apocalypse.
The movie opens up with a wonderful little scene of a town being attacked. Marauding bandits, some of which seem to be mutants, are literally raping, murdering and burning the inhabitants. Mostly in that order. Skip the Hot Piece of Ass jokes please. But yeah, they're having themselves a grand old time. The Villagers, not so much so. The whole being raped and murdered thing you know. All by guys in leather harnesses and shoulder pads. That is the uniform. Black leather harnesses and shoulder pads that are studded with steel spikes. Why? I have no clue. They like to sweat a lot and smell like ass as the sun fries their skin? Do they at least remember to put on suntan lotion to prevent pre-mature wrinkling? Probably not. These bad boys live hard and fast. I guess it's a good thing for them that all the women of the post-apocalyptic future are attractive and young. How does that work? The men are mostly hideous, borderline mutants. But the women? Totally Bangin'.
There is no point during the movie where the bandits are chasing a fleeing woman, and catch her and turn her around to find a the very likeness of Ron Jeremy's twin sister causing them to say “Dude, go ahead, I think I'll pass.” No, they get all the lingerie models and cheerleaders that they can tackle. Maybe this is the Hooters Girls Apocalypse.
And then there are the random masks and helmets! Why? Who has time to cast a pig mask out of black plastic? Or the chrome helmet. They have to be hella-uncomfortable under the sun.
This is where we meet the main character. The Man-Hating Amazon. She's tough, blond and bad-assed. Good with a knife or a gun. When the 'pocalypse comes, I want one like her(sans the hang-ups on my sex. I'll pass on the 'if you look at me funny I'll neuter you' mindset. Really I'd like the 'come here and feel by large perky breasts, they're so touchabaly soft!' attitude. In fact, that's what i'm looking for here and now). She just hates men. A lot. In fact, her first act is to kill one of the bikers. Tally-Ho! Ho's tally is one so far. Oh yeah, I went there. Actually, of the heros (there are three by the end of the film) she's got the highest body count, and she isn't afraid of getting down and dirty with a knife. Put her in a metal bikini and I'd have my love interest!
This brings me to my first question. In these movies, why don't the roving biker gangs ever take home any of the women? That's like the oldest rule of human warfare. You kill the men in a rival village and then carry off the woman to become your brides. This makes sense on a biological and historical basis, since women can usually only have one child at a time, and if you're in a society that is constantly fighting, you're going to need more children to fill the ranks. The larger the population, the more powerful you are. Simple logic and numbers. Else, there's a lot of circle jerk action going on.
It rather sucks to be a woman in that kind of world, with the being dragged off to a new society and enslaved and raped. But at least they didn't stick a sword in you, so you're still alive. You live to fight another day, and maybe find happiness, because where there is life there is hope. My philosophical sentiment for the day.
Moving on. Amazon kills the fat marauder and flees the village. Where she comes to a cave and meets hero number two. I wasn't really paying attention to that part to get the specifics, but if the rest of the movie is anything to judge, there was a lot of walking. Boring, pointless walking. More walking than in all 12 hours of Lord of the Rings combined. Except when they ride the motorcycle.
Hero number two. He's the rugged yet sensitive. His goal is world peace and he really cares about showing Amazon that not all men are killing machines that violate every living creature that they encounter. Not to mention that he's wounded, which must be working on her maternal instincts. I tell ya, get a woman to nurse you back to health after you're left to die by a gang of bikers and she's halfway yours.
Too bad Amazon threatens to cut his balls off and kill him should he even think about stroking her golden hair. Oh I bet it smells so delightful, like flowers in the spring, or murder. So, she's slightly unbalanced with a tendency to get all stabbity, and he's a hippie. Wasn't that the idea behind Dharma and Greg?
Her first reaction to finding the dirty hippie is to let him fuck off and die. But, through the use of his rugged good looks and hippiesh charm, he's able to convince her to let him tag along.
The Amazon and Moonflower now begin their travels together, and roughly every fifteen steps they run into some random encounter or another. First they are found by Mr. Giggles. The tracker who laughs with every line of dialogue you feed him. Yeah, that guy. He's fun at a party, until his best friend snaps and strangles him. Well, as is the running theme here, Moonflower gets himself incapacitated, and Amazon has do do all the dirty work. It would seem that gender-roles have changed slightly since the big blast. Refreshing that. It's nice to see more women getting involved in the whole mass murder-bit.
They at least have the sense to gank Giggle's bike. As much good as it does them, as Amazon doesn't really like to cuddle. With the whole “I'll kill you if you touch me” routine, that must have been an awkward ride. Especially on that bike with all the extra metal welded onto the frame. Why do they do that? It can't make the ride any smoother, and most of it must just get in the way. No matter, it is the future and before long they're out of gas and back on foot.
Which is where they hit up random encounter number two. The French Chef. Frenchie is a master with the ingredient euphemistically known as “Long Pig”. He's a creepy bastard, as are all of his numerous brothers. I'm guessing that they're brothers, that's what the conversation implied. Though they all have different accents. There's Bayou Billie and The Texan too. Maybe they were seperated at birth and then found each other completely randomly after the bombs started dropping. Now there's a back story I'd like to explore further. Alas, we have to move on.
Here's another thing I don't understand. You have a maniac French chef who is looking at the woman and vocally implying that he would love to get his rape on. I wouldn't have been all surprised if he had just come out and said “I Wanna Rape me some of that!” about the Amazon. But there he is. He kills travelers and eats them. You've defeated him and tied him up. He threatens revenge, pain and misery. Do you just leave him there? I mean, Kudos for using rope. But I think a knife across the windpipe would suit better in this situation. The dude is clearly someone you don't want running around. Keep that in mind, if you overpower a French hillbilly Cannibal in the post-apocalyptic world, do us all a favor and just kill the bastard. Really, you can see why Amazon hates men. They didn't need to make her come out and say it straight, but they did, just to be sure we all caught it.
Next, they run into the main pack of bikers. I don't see why these guys are really a threat. Two of them clearly can't control their bikes, and one manages to drive his ass off a cliff. Not during a chase scene mind, he just goes over the cliff while not paying attention. These guys make the Three Stooges look competent. They're dumb. Even their leader. They fall for the Amazon's smokey glances and 'come-hither' motions. Which gets at least one killed.
then they meet Yakov Smirnoff's unattractive brother. In post Apocalyptic Soviet Union Mutant Biker gang gets raped by you. Sorry, law of the internet requires that any reference to Yakov Smirnoff is followed by a Yakov Smrinoff style “joke”. In post Apocalyptic Soviet Union jokes laugh at you. Yakov has a puppy and he seems to be a musician. The only explanation to him is that Amazon declares that he talks funny. After that, he sort of joins the party to become hero number three.
There are themes in this movie, ones that they keep returning to in this movie. One is that hippies are useless. Yes, for like the seventh time in the span of some 60 minutes, the odd-couple is captured again and brought back to the Bike-cave for the ritual violation and tea-time.
Ok, now we shall introduce the leader of the Bikers. He makes an appearance earlier in the movie, but that doesn't really matter since he doesn't have much of a part. He leaves most of the grunt work to his underlings while he stays at home with his Harm. The Villain? Think of a blonde, male version of Queen Gedren from Red Sonja. With the mask covering one side of his face. And the narcissism and petty tyranny. He also has giant poofy hair. I think he perms or something. Or sticks his finger in an electric socket. That's only the beginning of the man's fashion sense. In addition to the mask and cape, somehow he's found platemail, but only for his left arm. Shiny chrome platemail. As if the studded black leather wouldn't be bitch enough to wear in the desert sun, the dude is also wearing metal. Vain and stupid, not a good combination in your leader. Throw in some megalomania and you have a standard comic book villain.
Also there's a lot of running away because he's a giant pussy. This dude failed to read the Evil Overlord list. He neither fights like a man or like an evil overlord. He just gets his ass kicked by a hippie. But more on that later.
He gives Amazon a choice. Be the newest addition to his Harem or service the entire leather and bondage club. She kicks him in the goonies and spits on him. Damn I love that crazy bitch. This of course means that she's going to be given to the minions for the Number Six dinner after they finish flaying Moonflower. Re-enter Yakov.
The pen-ultimate fight scene is poorly shot with a bunch of close-ups of people running around in a cave. Yakov hooks up with some Jawas and then bursts in waving a glorified bic lighter while Moonflower takes on Queenie in a wrestling match that some might describe as FABULOUS! I don't know where the Jawas came from. That was never explained. They just appeared, and then disappeared. Maybe the movie was expecting that people had already seen Starwars and knew what the Jawas were all about. Too bad they live on a planet without any droids. Just dudes in bondage gear.
All of this is set to music that would have fit absolutely perfectly in an 80s game show for the final countdown. Rocking.
What I don't understand is where these new weapons come from. They carry everything from pointed sticks to phasers. Civilization has collapsed and most of our greatest technology has disappeared, but they still managed to modify a sten-gun that makes mountains burst into flame. This is what's wrong with humanity. Enough with the death-rays, and focus your mind on really kick-ass robot butler.
What did we learn from this movie?
Well, chastity belts might come in handy during the apocalypse.
Humanity will come out on top after the Bovine uprising and wear the trophies. But the cost was heavy, breaking the planet and the sanity of our species.
Get yourself a Knife-wielding women with a grudge against the male half of the species. She'll get you out of tight spots.
Rope rules, but sometimes a knife across the throat is a better choice.
In Post-Apocalyptic Soviet Union, comic relief saves you.
If you make something really good, hacks around the world will try and cash in on your idea. And generally fail.
2/5
I'm not the only one who was turned on by this movie. People all over the world rip this classic off. I'm sure I've seen at least two Italian movies that were 'inspired' by Mad Max. Gangs of roving bikers stalking the wastelands and attacking settlements.
And now I've found an American film. One that was so far reaching that none of the actors have pictures up on the IMDB. Most of the actors, the ones who had careers after this, went on to minor roles in TV shows. They were the lucky ones.
Land of Doom (1986) Now for my catch phrase – this is gonna hurt.
Land of Doom. Catchy and accurate title for a rather depressing place. Depressing? Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. I don't know exactly where this thing is set. Europe? Doubt it. Most of the survivors have American accents, the majority of which are clearly Standard Midwest with a few southerners thrown in. But then there are inexplicable characters who just have random European accents thrown in. As if they just appeared in the American Southwest(that's what the landscape resembles) just in time to be raped by/ flee from a band of maniacs in leather.
They all seem to be in the just picking up the pieces phase of the apocalypse.
The movie opens up with a wonderful little scene of a town being attacked. Marauding bandits, some of which seem to be mutants, are literally raping, murdering and burning the inhabitants. Mostly in that order. Skip the Hot Piece of Ass jokes please. But yeah, they're having themselves a grand old time. The Villagers, not so much so. The whole being raped and murdered thing you know. All by guys in leather harnesses and shoulder pads. That is the uniform. Black leather harnesses and shoulder pads that are studded with steel spikes. Why? I have no clue. They like to sweat a lot and smell like ass as the sun fries their skin? Do they at least remember to put on suntan lotion to prevent pre-mature wrinkling? Probably not. These bad boys live hard and fast. I guess it's a good thing for them that all the women of the post-apocalyptic future are attractive and young. How does that work? The men are mostly hideous, borderline mutants. But the women? Totally Bangin'.
There is no point during the movie where the bandits are chasing a fleeing woman, and catch her and turn her around to find a the very likeness of Ron Jeremy's twin sister causing them to say “Dude, go ahead, I think I'll pass.” No, they get all the lingerie models and cheerleaders that they can tackle. Maybe this is the Hooters Girls Apocalypse.
And then there are the random masks and helmets! Why? Who has time to cast a pig mask out of black plastic? Or the chrome helmet. They have to be hella-uncomfortable under the sun.
This is where we meet the main character. The Man-Hating Amazon. She's tough, blond and bad-assed. Good with a knife or a gun. When the 'pocalypse comes, I want one like her(sans the hang-ups on my sex. I'll pass on the 'if you look at me funny I'll neuter you' mindset. Really I'd like the 'come here and feel by large perky breasts, they're so touchabaly soft!' attitude. In fact, that's what i'm looking for here and now). She just hates men. A lot. In fact, her first act is to kill one of the bikers. Tally-Ho! Ho's tally is one so far. Oh yeah, I went there. Actually, of the heros (there are three by the end of the film) she's got the highest body count, and she isn't afraid of getting down and dirty with a knife. Put her in a metal bikini and I'd have my love interest!
This brings me to my first question. In these movies, why don't the roving biker gangs ever take home any of the women? That's like the oldest rule of human warfare. You kill the men in a rival village and then carry off the woman to become your brides. This makes sense on a biological and historical basis, since women can usually only have one child at a time, and if you're in a society that is constantly fighting, you're going to need more children to fill the ranks. The larger the population, the more powerful you are. Simple logic and numbers. Else, there's a lot of circle jerk action going on.
It rather sucks to be a woman in that kind of world, with the being dragged off to a new society and enslaved and raped. But at least they didn't stick a sword in you, so you're still alive. You live to fight another day, and maybe find happiness, because where there is life there is hope. My philosophical sentiment for the day.
Moving on. Amazon kills the fat marauder and flees the village. Where she comes to a cave and meets hero number two. I wasn't really paying attention to that part to get the specifics, but if the rest of the movie is anything to judge, there was a lot of walking. Boring, pointless walking. More walking than in all 12 hours of Lord of the Rings combined. Except when they ride the motorcycle.
Hero number two. He's the rugged yet sensitive. His goal is world peace and he really cares about showing Amazon that not all men are killing machines that violate every living creature that they encounter. Not to mention that he's wounded, which must be working on her maternal instincts. I tell ya, get a woman to nurse you back to health after you're left to die by a gang of bikers and she's halfway yours.
Too bad Amazon threatens to cut his balls off and kill him should he even think about stroking her golden hair. Oh I bet it smells so delightful, like flowers in the spring, or murder. So, she's slightly unbalanced with a tendency to get all stabbity, and he's a hippie. Wasn't that the idea behind Dharma and Greg?
Her first reaction to finding the dirty hippie is to let him fuck off and die. But, through the use of his rugged good looks and hippiesh charm, he's able to convince her to let him tag along.
The Amazon and Moonflower now begin their travels together, and roughly every fifteen steps they run into some random encounter or another. First they are found by Mr. Giggles. The tracker who laughs with every line of dialogue you feed him. Yeah, that guy. He's fun at a party, until his best friend snaps and strangles him. Well, as is the running theme here, Moonflower gets himself incapacitated, and Amazon has do do all the dirty work. It would seem that gender-roles have changed slightly since the big blast. Refreshing that. It's nice to see more women getting involved in the whole mass murder-bit.
They at least have the sense to gank Giggle's bike. As much good as it does them, as Amazon doesn't really like to cuddle. With the whole “I'll kill you if you touch me” routine, that must have been an awkward ride. Especially on that bike with all the extra metal welded onto the frame. Why do they do that? It can't make the ride any smoother, and most of it must just get in the way. No matter, it is the future and before long they're out of gas and back on foot.
Which is where they hit up random encounter number two. The French Chef. Frenchie is a master with the ingredient euphemistically known as “Long Pig”. He's a creepy bastard, as are all of his numerous brothers. I'm guessing that they're brothers, that's what the conversation implied. Though they all have different accents. There's Bayou Billie and The Texan too. Maybe they were seperated at birth and then found each other completely randomly after the bombs started dropping. Now there's a back story I'd like to explore further. Alas, we have to move on.
Here's another thing I don't understand. You have a maniac French chef who is looking at the woman and vocally implying that he would love to get his rape on. I wouldn't have been all surprised if he had just come out and said “I Wanna Rape me some of that!” about the Amazon. But there he is. He kills travelers and eats them. You've defeated him and tied him up. He threatens revenge, pain and misery. Do you just leave him there? I mean, Kudos for using rope. But I think a knife across the windpipe would suit better in this situation. The dude is clearly someone you don't want running around. Keep that in mind, if you overpower a French hillbilly Cannibal in the post-apocalyptic world, do us all a favor and just kill the bastard. Really, you can see why Amazon hates men. They didn't need to make her come out and say it straight, but they did, just to be sure we all caught it.
Next, they run into the main pack of bikers. I don't see why these guys are really a threat. Two of them clearly can't control their bikes, and one manages to drive his ass off a cliff. Not during a chase scene mind, he just goes over the cliff while not paying attention. These guys make the Three Stooges look competent. They're dumb. Even their leader. They fall for the Amazon's smokey glances and 'come-hither' motions. Which gets at least one killed.
then they meet Yakov Smirnoff's unattractive brother. In post Apocalyptic Soviet Union Mutant Biker gang gets raped by you. Sorry, law of the internet requires that any reference to Yakov Smirnoff is followed by a Yakov Smrinoff style “joke”. In post Apocalyptic Soviet Union jokes laugh at you. Yakov has a puppy and he seems to be a musician. The only explanation to him is that Amazon declares that he talks funny. After that, he sort of joins the party to become hero number three.
There are themes in this movie, ones that they keep returning to in this movie. One is that hippies are useless. Yes, for like the seventh time in the span of some 60 minutes, the odd-couple is captured again and brought back to the Bike-cave for the ritual violation and tea-time.
Ok, now we shall introduce the leader of the Bikers. He makes an appearance earlier in the movie, but that doesn't really matter since he doesn't have much of a part. He leaves most of the grunt work to his underlings while he stays at home with his Harm. The Villain? Think of a blonde, male version of Queen Gedren from Red Sonja. With the mask covering one side of his face. And the narcissism and petty tyranny. He also has giant poofy hair. I think he perms or something. Or sticks his finger in an electric socket. That's only the beginning of the man's fashion sense. In addition to the mask and cape, somehow he's found platemail, but only for his left arm. Shiny chrome platemail. As if the studded black leather wouldn't be bitch enough to wear in the desert sun, the dude is also wearing metal. Vain and stupid, not a good combination in your leader. Throw in some megalomania and you have a standard comic book villain.
Also there's a lot of running away because he's a giant pussy. This dude failed to read the Evil Overlord list. He neither fights like a man or like an evil overlord. He just gets his ass kicked by a hippie. But more on that later.
He gives Amazon a choice. Be the newest addition to his Harem or service the entire leather and bondage club. She kicks him in the goonies and spits on him. Damn I love that crazy bitch. This of course means that she's going to be given to the minions for the Number Six dinner after they finish flaying Moonflower. Re-enter Yakov.
The pen-ultimate fight scene is poorly shot with a bunch of close-ups of people running around in a cave. Yakov hooks up with some Jawas and then bursts in waving a glorified bic lighter while Moonflower takes on Queenie in a wrestling match that some might describe as FABULOUS! I don't know where the Jawas came from. That was never explained. They just appeared, and then disappeared. Maybe the movie was expecting that people had already seen Starwars and knew what the Jawas were all about. Too bad they live on a planet without any droids. Just dudes in bondage gear.
All of this is set to music that would have fit absolutely perfectly in an 80s game show for the final countdown. Rocking.
What I don't understand is where these new weapons come from. They carry everything from pointed sticks to phasers. Civilization has collapsed and most of our greatest technology has disappeared, but they still managed to modify a sten-gun that makes mountains burst into flame. This is what's wrong with humanity. Enough with the death-rays, and focus your mind on really kick-ass robot butler.
What did we learn from this movie?
Well, chastity belts might come in handy during the apocalypse.
Humanity will come out on top after the Bovine uprising and wear the trophies. But the cost was heavy, breaking the planet and the sanity of our species.
Get yourself a Knife-wielding women with a grudge against the male half of the species. She'll get you out of tight spots.
Rope rules, but sometimes a knife across the throat is a better choice.
In Post-Apocalyptic Soviet Union, comic relief saves you.
If you make something really good, hacks around the world will try and cash in on your idea. And generally fail.
2/5
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