I've been fooled. Tricked. Scallywagged. Bamboozled. And a whole bunch of other verbs, too.
Last week, I rented The Running Man, and classic work of Dé Ah-nold. My single Ah-nold movie (Batman and Robin) was getting oftly lonely all by its lonesome in the Vault. I felt kinda sorry for it. Fortunately, such moments pass quickly, just not quick enough. So I went home with The Running Man, hoping Ah-nold's attempt at act wouldn't ruin the movie for me.
But, low and behold, once I opened the box, what to my wondering eyes did appear but Raiders of the Sun. Damn, I thought. Shows what I get for being optimistic. Well, I figured, what the hell? No good movies on tonight, anyway (are there ever?).
One of the red flags us Bad Movie watchers search for is nudity in the first 5 minuets of a movie. If such nudity does appear we know to transform into battle mode, 'cuz it's gonna be a bumpy ride. Well, Raiders of the Sun shoots that bell curve to hell by having nudity in its previews! Oh yes, this will hurt.
The realization hit me like a freight train five seconds into the flick: This was one of those Eye-talian Mad Max rip-offs Dr. Freex is always warning me about. There is, apparently, and entire clump of them out there, like some malignant genre hairball.
Five seconds later, when I saw our hero, Brodie (Richard Norton) with his Australian accent, 10 o'clock shadow, and deep need of a jogging bra I found out that this was indeed a bad Mad Max rip-off. Brodie is apparently a high up in the army of the Alpha League, the only democratic society left in this post apocalyptic future the movie so rudely leaves us in.
For the first half of the movie Brodie (whom I dubbed Captain Broadchest) attempts to kick the ass of the treacherous Bad Guy (William Steis). He fails, but his army manages to kill at least 20 more extras then the Bad Guy's army (all of whom die without a single gunshot wound on them, you see, in Raiders universe gunshots are very sparatic, they might leave wounds, but, then again, they might not).
Where was I? Oh, yes, Captain Broadchest. Well, after killing some extras Broadchest reports to the Alpha League's president. Seams the League is running low on gunpowder and only a man of cunning and skill can find some. Unfortunately, the Atomic Wars got all of them, so Broadchest is the closest thing the Alpha League has. As one of my favorite TV characters is fond of saying, "We're all gonna die."
He might be right. Seams Bad Guy is low on happy dust, too (and gunpowder for that matter). Being Bad, Bad Guy will stop at nothing to secure his stash before the Alpha League does. This creates trouble when a Spanish speaking tribal woman leads Broadchest to her village. The one right next to a phosphorus mine. So we get some dead Indians.
Not particularly caring (robots don't show emotion) Captain Broadchest takes the surviving natives and proceeds to kick some Bad Guy ass. Surprisingly, the Bad Guy's army doesn't shot a single Indian. Apparently, the Indian's whooping causes their guns to short out. But, whatever. Bad Guy dies, Broadchest is a hero, everyone goes home happy, yadda, yadda, yadda. The end.
Can someone please explain to me how a movie made up almost entirely of war scenes could be this boring? I have seen some crappy post-apocalyptic movies in my time, but this . . . this. This not only takes the cake, it takes the cake, gets the cake drunk, and proceeds to date rape the cake (and, no, the cake wasn't asking for it).
What in this movie a freak of nature, or did the people behind it actually think they had something here? Oh, wait, they don't think. Silly me.
Speaking from experience here, I could get a pig drunk and he'd still manage to show more emotion then Captain Broadchest. And here's my impression of the Bad Guy, "Ooo, look at me, I'm wearing football pads on the outside of my shirt. I've got blond hair like Tom Petty and I speak with an Australian accent. I'm all evil and stuff. Be afraid, cuz I'm scary!" Yeah, okay. Sure. Pal.
But it's really not the actors fault. Oh, okay, so it is, but it's the writer's fault to. The movie is written like the director scribbled something on a tissue, handed it to the actors and said, "Okay, guys, that's your scene, run with it."
Wait a second. Characters without character? Post apocalyptic societies? A movie of nothing but action scenes that's still boring beyond belief? Why, this sounds like . . . like . . . like . . .
. . . Albert Pyun . . .
Scared ya, didn't I? No, this movie was directed by Cirio H. Santiago, and what an impotent job he did of it, too.
My advice to you is this: Don't rent this movie. Check it out from a library. Take it home, stomp it into little pieces with your biggest shoes, set the pieces on fire, and then flush the ash down the toilet. Watch Armageddon instead.
God, did I just say that?
Gs (out of a possible five)
MOCK O' METER
