DISPATCHES FROM... Science Fiction!
- By Sean Gardner
- Published 08/25/2008
Sean Gardner
Sean dislikes writing bios, so he has left the duties to his brother, Matthew.
Sean appeared from nowhere shortly after the Christmas of 1981. He was gooey, listless and an attention grabber from day one. He once filled bottles of sand, loaded them into a briefcase and dramatically attempted to run away. We found him an hour later on the corner of the street, eating the sand, too lazy to walk another step. I've plotted his murder for years, but he continues to foil them with the aid of his lucky patch of chest hair and cunning sidekicks.
The release of Death Race this past weekend got me to thinking a few things. First, fuck them for remaking it. Second, fuck them for remaking it with Statham and McShane, not to mention Joan Allen, cause now I'm probably going to see it. On Netflix, mind you, but still.
The next thing I got to thinking was my love of the original upon which this latest abortion is based. Loosely. Very loosely. Death Race 2000 is one of my favorite films in the "kinda crappy sci-fi" genre. In order to further introduce you to my definition of that term, allow me to invoke some titles you may know.
Barbarella.
The Running Man.
They Live.
Escape From NY.
And allow me to explain why said titles are invoked.
Orgasm machine.
American Gladiators with kills. And two Governors doing battle.
Shades, man. And how can we forget the fight to end all fights. Seriously, the greatest.
And finally, the whole fucking movie. Not only one of my favorite "kinda crappy sci-fi" films but one of my favorite any kind of films. Ever. Let's just say that I undertook a serious addiction to alcohol and/or narcotic, Snake might just be my Higher Power to pull me through.
The other thing this points out to me is that John Carpenter is the tits. As if I hadn't thought that before.
That is all.
