A baffler. There are all kinds of abortive plot threads throughout that may or may not connect with anything. That ends up being the beauty of it. The charmingly big legged, pink garter wearing minidress girl who shows up at the end of reel one ends up having little or no relation to the plot. Then out of nowhere the leader guy (nice charisma there, dude) turns into a heist mastermind and the women (also wide of hips) playing volleyball on the beach turn out to be the gang (but without pink garters). And then later the pink garter somehow turns up again.
The motorcycle gang, who commendably don't risk their necks with a whole lot of motorcycle riding (tending to prefer automobiles, in fact), are pretty entertaining. Leader Splinter is doing everything he can to be Adam Roarke in HELL'S ANGELS ON WHEELS (best biker gang leader ever) and the supporting gang members are cool too. Roach talks in an on again off again British accent and has a great scene where he's looking for his "thingy", which turns out to be his roach clip. Bruce Kimball (SNAKES) plays the biker who never bathes and has an awkward scene where he stands up and asks a woman to take a bath with him. There's a biker names Bongos, who significantly is NEVER SHOWN PLAYING THE BONGOS, his deal seems to be that he drinks milk and eats bananas.
Paul Gleason (the detention guy in BREAKFAST CLUB) shows up as a cop. And teenage Keith Carradine tries to steal beer from the Amazons only to be threatened with a knife. The music was all stolen from Mike Curb soundtracks to ANGELS FROM HELL and HELL'S ANGELS ON WHEELS.
The film curdled after a while with the slack pacing and the long, poorly mounted car chase but then it became something else entirely. The curds became a fine, aromatic cheese and the aging process contributed bold notes of flavor that make this an excellent example of the cheesemaker's art. I started enjoying the car chase in a hypnotized sort of way. Then the ending pops up, tying up one of those abortive subplots, and then the very, very end, as the film runs out of the gate is a Hall Of Fame ending.
Just as the movie becomes UNSTOPPABLE, it stops. Leaving everyone in the room in a fever pitch of excitement, with no outlet. I saw several members of the audience huddled in the corner planning One Last Job and I know the police and rescue personnel had their hands full all night, which the media is now calling Hell Night or The Night America Died.
The motorcycle gang, who commendably don't risk their necks with a whole lot of motorcycle riding (tending to prefer automobiles, in fact), are pretty entertaining. Leader Splinter is doing everything he can to be Adam Roarke in HELL'S ANGELS ON WHEELS (best biker gang leader ever) and the supporting gang members are cool too. Roach talks in an on again off again British accent and has a great scene where he's looking for his "thingy", which turns out to be his roach clip. Bruce Kimball (SNAKES) plays the biker who never bathes and has an awkward scene where he stands up and asks a woman to take a bath with him. There's a biker names Bongos, who significantly is NEVER SHOWN PLAYING THE BONGOS, his deal seems to be that he drinks milk and eats bananas.
Paul Gleason (the detention guy in BREAKFAST CLUB) shows up as a cop. And teenage Keith Carradine tries to steal beer from the Amazons only to be threatened with a knife. The music was all stolen from Mike Curb soundtracks to ANGELS FROM HELL and HELL'S ANGELS ON WHEELS.
The film curdled after a while with the slack pacing and the long, poorly mounted car chase but then it became something else entirely. The curds became a fine, aromatic cheese and the aging process contributed bold notes of flavor that make this an excellent example of the cheesemaker's art. I started enjoying the car chase in a hypnotized sort of way. Then the ending pops up, tying up one of those abortive subplots, and then the very, very end, as the film runs out of the gate is a Hall Of Fame ending.
Just as the movie becomes UNSTOPPABLE, it stops. Leaving everyone in the room in a fever pitch of excitement, with no outlet. I saw several members of the audience huddled in the corner planning One Last Job and I know the police and rescue personnel had their hands full all night, which the media is now calling Hell Night or The Night America Died.
