’s been all over the idiocy of Paul W.S. Anderson’s satire-free remake of Death Race 2000, which, according to The Hollywood Reporter, will now bear the imaginative moniker Death Race. Devoid of camp or parody, the movie is ludicrous; it’s about a cross-country race where contestants are awarded points for running down civilians. If Anderson and his producing pal Jeremy Bolt think they’ve got an incisive commentary on reality television, they should look back over their filmography and consider whether they’re qualified to comment on anything save for the smell of their own shit.

But who doesn’t love the smell of their own feces? Anderson and Bolt practically wear it as cologne. And now they’re going to splash their scent all over Jason Statham, a CHUD fave who nonetheless will stink something awful so long as the paycheck clears (but we all love Crank, right?). Considering that little is known about how thoroughly Anderson and Bolt are raping Paul Bartel’s wonderful Death Race 2000, it’s possible that Statham won’t even be playing a character named Frankenstein. Maybe they’ll rewrite the character as Frank N. Stein, a laconic badass who sneers a whole bunch and races for himself, but, when he picks up the sister (Milla Jovovich) of a former contestant who was offed for ratings, he has an epiphany and decides he’s gonna race for principled cunny. Or maybe Jovovich will play Calamity Jane as a great big fuck you to Mary Woronov.  The potential for disrespect is endless.

I want this movie to go away, but Cruise/Wagner are producing, and they need to get movies in production. The only good news is that Roger Corman will take an exec producer credit, which should greatly please the notorious, New World niggard.