Fulltime Casual - An Australian Film and TV Podcast

Sometimes a movie comes along which makes me question my filmic tastes, and whether or not I should shoot my mouth off about what I do or don’t like. I was never a student film maker - rather a student vfx guy wanting to build the explosions and gun shots, rig and animate the characters, then blend it all together so it looks like the guy leaps from building to building. I like well done work and much of what’s on screen in Death Race is suprisingly good from a visual stand point; I found myself grinning and entertained for a considerable portion of this film yet wonder if that makes me a bad person?

Death Race is a depthless action spectacular; sometimes artful in it’s excecution but never beautiful. For the most part it’s a roaring, mindless, brute of a thing: It splatters and pulps and makes things go boom. It’s like Burnout meets Mad Max and the video game influence is obvious in some of the slick presentation and driving sequences. The cars are the real stars of the film and look stunning in their over-engineered cyberpunk aesthetic, given the script and acting it would be nice to think the excellent art department got the lions share of the pay packet. By far the most impressive thing about the film was the realism - not the realism of the non-existant story, characters, or laughable premise, but the real cars, real precision driving, real fire and explosions, and the real and gob-smacking demise of a big bad.

That said, once you get past the exciting parts there’s not very much film in there. The script, such as it is, really is terrible. The dialogue is stupid, the delivery is poor, and if you engage your brain at all it will scream at you “You’re currently giving me brain damage! Hello! What the fuck are you being subjected to?!” Given the pedigree of the director/writer/producer Paul W.S. Anderson (who was responsible for foisting Mortal Kombat on an unsuspecting public) I’m actually surprised by how much I enjoyed of this film.

The final third of the film gets a bit more watery, I guess Anderson figured he had to try and wrap things up. Kind of hard when the film didn’t really have any other point that making you grip your metaphorical testicles and hoot at the screen as the adrenaline and testosterone kicked in. Jason Statham plays the lead with his typical lack of ability as an ex-race driver framed for the murder of his wife, Joan Allen shows why she’s never won an Oscar or BAFTA in her role as Hennessey, the iron fist in velvet glove prison warden, and Ian McShane shows that even actors involved in the brilliance that was Deadwood still need to make a buck by doing what ever is on offer. Yet despite the innumerable flaws and the real lack of any redeeming features a young student film-maker may find here, I still grinned like an idiot at the cars and the stunts - I should hang my head in shame.

2.5 stars.