Can satire be too ridiculous? I mean, that’s the point of satire, right, to exaggerate things that are occurring in our political or social climate to royal take the piss out of the world we live in? With that in mind, it’s time to cast an eye over Death Race 2000, a sci-fi racing film that hoped to do for driving what Rollerball did for… actually, what was Rollerball? Hockey? American Football? Anyway, helmed by Eating Raoul’s Paul Bartel and financed (barely) by the budget savvy Roger Corman, the movie delivered one of the more campier visions of the future this side of Logan’s Run that sees America becoming totally cool with being ruled by a totalitarian regime, just as long as they get to watch the most bloodthirsty sport around – the Transcontinental Road Race.
Of course, Death Race 2000 wouldn’t be much of a dystopian satire if it was just a race (the clue is in the title) and so it’s time to buckle your seatbelt and rev your engines; those bystanders aren’t going to kill themselves.
Economic ruin and a hefty dollop of civil unrest was what America was left to chew on after the “World Crash of ’79” and in an attempt to wrestle things back under some semblance of control, totalitarian rule and martial law constantly in effect became the new norms. But in an attempt to keep the attention of the masses elsewhere, the Transcontinental Road Race was created to keep their thoughts from the shit sandwich they’re being forced to eat on a daily basis.
However, the Transcontinental Road Race is no ordinary race as its contestants not only come to play with gaudy personas that make Professional Wrestling like like chess tournaments, but they can gain point advantages over their competitors with by performing acts of hit and run that’s scored depending on gender and age. Yes sir, it would take a real sick puppy to take part in this and luckily for “Mr. President”, they’ve got five of them ready to go.
Leading the pack is three time champion, Frankenstein, a scarred, cape wearing figure who has survived so many pile ups it’s rumoured that he’s immortal. Racing against him is his chief rival and hot headed Chicago gangster Machine Gun Joe Viterbo, but also hoping to rack up some big scores are promiscuous cowgirl Calamity Jane, Roman Gladiator obsessed Nero the Hero and unrepentant Neo-Nazi Matilda the Hun who all each have their willing navigators and specially themed vehicles of mass murder ready to go.
However, this year proves to be a little different for various reasons with the main one being that Frankenstein has a lot more going on under that scarred visage (literally) than people suspect; but similarly, the Resistance also have plans in place to thwart the Transcontinental Road Race and even have one of their own planted pretty deep among the chaos. With bystanders getting splattered left and right and revolution heading round it’s final lap, when the race ends, what will become of America?
Firstly, I have to say that when we live in a time where a shonky, absurdist, low budget B-movie can still feel fairly relevant, it just goes to show how fucked as a civilisation we truly are. OK, so I’ll admit that we haven’t reached a time where Sylvester Stallone is roaring up and down America’s highways, running over people with a big, doofy car that’s got a giant Bowie knife jutting out the front, but controlling governments and an over reliance on distracting media isn’t exactly feeling particularly far fetched too if you catch my drift. On the other hand, predicting a troubled future back in the 70s must have been like shooting fish in a barrel as so many movies have accurately managed to pin point our fears and anxiety even if they weren’t even trying too. For all intents and purposes, Death Race 2000 is gaudy, ridiculous experience that technically can be put in the same camp as the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s sensationalist jab at society, The Running Man with its pantheon of murderous sports people being hailed as heroes.
Paul Bartel may not have been interested in being subtle, but he sure does a lot with a little as he leads us smartly through this future he’s constructed and even though his budget (which I expect was being held at gunpoint by Roger Corman) frequently lets him down – one of the matte painting looks like it was crafted in pencil – the sheer exuberance of the film somehow manages to paper over most of the gargantuan cracks the movie has. The best way to describe Death Race 2000 is if the people behind the animated sci-fi classic, Heavy Metal, were tasked with remaking Hanna-Barbera’s Wacky Races, right down to the tailor made cars and bizarre personas.
Striding around the sets looking like he’s clad in a Darth Vader gimp suit is David Carradine’s Frankenstein who has become a sporting legend for surviving more crashes than Evel Knieval but still returning to race despite his body reportedly being more prosthetic than flesh and bone. However, the big surprise is that he is only the latest of a string of Frankensteins who have been raised as a ward of the state to give the illusion that the man is practically invulnerable. As a result, Carradine attempts to give his character the same sense of nobility as a classic Dracula performance – which isn’t easy considering he has to model some peculiar looking rubber underwear – but while he overacts in a more subtle way, Sylvester Stallone’s Machine Gun Joe sees the future Rocky chew the scenery as a deranged, abusive bully, who is more than happy to score some easy points by committing some dastardly acts as reversing over his own pit crew and driving his bonnet mounted knife into an unsuspecting workman from behind.
It’s exactly this mean spirited nature that makes Death Race 2000 such a fun curiosity to watch and I have to say, at times it feels like the misshapen missing link that connects Rollerball with Idiocracy as violent sport movie collides with the wacky, broad humour of a cartoonishly deranged satire.
However, while the movie certainly has its fun points (ridiculous world building, absurd characters, squishy gore), the sparse production values and lumpy cars will simply just switch snobs of low budget cult flicks off like a light switch and some of the more intricate subplots involving the resistance feel fairly lightly plotted compared to the far more fun moments of vehicular mayhem.
Hardly aiming to make you think too much as it roars past, flipping authority the finger while mowing down a bunch of nurses, Death Race 2000 earns it place in the cult pantheon for such spitefully funny concepts as “euthanasia day” and the fact that America blames their problems on the French for “ruining their telephone system”. But aside from the genuinely endearing sight of Carradine and Stallone driving killing Machine that would look out of place in a mardi gras parade, the budget struggles to do Bartel’s vision justice. Still, when it comes to sheer carmageddon, Death Race 2000 faithfully gets up to speed.
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