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Death Race 2000


#478 - Death Race 2000
Paul Bartel, 1975



In the year 2000, America has become a theocratic dystopia where the biggest event of the year is a coast-to-coast race where competitors win points for running over pedestrians.

Given how I've reviewed at least a couple of other '70s dystopia films of a considerable pedigree and found them wanting, you probably wouldn't have expected me to like this Roger Corman-produced blends of carsploitation and death-sports. Well, expect again, people, because Death Race 2000 is good old-fashioned exploitation fun of the kind that I'm always on the lookout for but seldom seem to find in any of the films I watch. In this particular dystopia, the bread and circuses take the form of the Trans-Continental Road Race, where a grand total of five cars (each one commandeered by a team that contains driver and a navigator, all of which just happen to be man-woman teams to boot) as they not only have to race from coast to coast but also try to rack up as many points as possible by running over pedestrians in the process. The closest thing this film has to a hero is Frankenstein (David Carradine), the battle-scarred living legend who dresses like the Gimp in a superhero cape, who definitely has more depth than his position as a champion would indicate. His rival is the incredibly violent and ill-tempered "Machine Gun" Joe Viterbo (Sylvester Stallone), but of greater concern is the comically incompetent resistance that launches frequent attempts to sabotage the race by any means necessary, even up to planting one of their members as Frankenstein's navigator.

Thanks to the old-school low-budget aesthetic of the film, Death Race 2000 definitely feels authentic with its use of practical effects in every regard. Cars smash into things, dummies get crushed, explosions light up the screen, and so forth. The performances are appropriately pulpy as they range from gruff badasses to outrageously smarmy television personalities. Characters are outsized to all hell - the leader of the resistance is named Thomasina Paine, other drivers include Matilda the Hun and Calamity Jane, the president is only ever referred to as Mr. President as if that is his real name, etc. The satire doesn't try to take itself seriously, as evidenced by one scene where a hospital wheels out elderly patients to be "euthanised" by racers (only for Frankenstein to take a detour and run over a bunch of hospital staff instead), and is all the better for it. It's on the short side of 90 minutes and packs them all out with great moments. The sheer goofiness of the whole thing is what elevates it above more ostensibly serious attempts at dystopia, plus I'm grateful that this is the kind of exploitation film where I don't have to side-eye it for any inherently problematic aspects that have put me off similar films. It does what it sets out to do quite well and, though I don't quite love it, I think it's a generally good example that has room to grow on me.