Deathsport

Some film makers, such as Ed Wood, produce movies so bad that they have a peculiar charm in spite of their overwhelming flaws. And then there's Roger Corman.

"Deathsport" was meant to ride on the coat tails of its successful predecessor "Death Race 2000," using motorcycles in place of automobiles as principal motif. However, although it does feature the same leading man (David Carradine), it lacks two key elements from the first film -- the self-caricature known as Sylvester Stallone, and the arch humor of director Paul Bartel who went on to direct cult favorites "Eating Raoul" (1982) and "Lust in the Dust" (1985). Principal director Allan Arkush, on the other hand, was soon relegated to the wasteland of television. Roger Corman wears his producer's hat for "Deathsport" but is also listed as an uncredited director. One noteworthy point: listed in the credits for "guitar" is Jerry Garcia. Could it really be THE Jerry Garcia of Grateful Dead fame?

This film should be seen by anybody interested in learning how NOT to make a movie. It is bad in so many ways that the 1000 word IMDb comment limit precludes me from even beginning to describe them. I would rate this film as low as possible if it weren't for two redeeming features: hilarious trailers for other Corman productions (in the video version), and completely gratuitous full frontal female nudity. Rating: 2/10.

In a dystopian distant future, warriors called Range Guides protect people in the desert wastelands from mutant cannibals. Beside the wastelands lie the powerful city states. Lord Zirpola of the city state Helix has captured Range Guide Kaz Oshay (David Carradine). Next, he captures female Guide Deneer (Claudia Jennings) to pair up with Kaz in his Deathsport game. They are tormented by Ankar Moor.

This is a Roger Corman B-movie. It has a lot of B-movie cheese. Of course, Jennings is a Playboy Playmate. The Deathsport is basically motocross bikes with lasers. They spent a bit of money on explosions. They blow up a few bikes and does one fire walk. Overall, it's a solid B-movie.

A followup flick to Deathrace 2000,Deathsport is a wild thrilling ride.Very much underrated,and a cult classic for sure.You like deadly laser blasting dirt bikes?Futuristic noble knights of the apocalypse?Crystal sword fights?And a host of bad-guys dying ever few minutes?And an insane dictator with sadistic sexual tastes?If you find you like this movie or Deathrace 2000,check out Circle of Iron,another lost Carradine seventies classic that was scripted by Bruce Lee and stars Mr Carradine in four different roles.This ain't no academy award winning stuff,so don't expect a lot from a low budget sci fi opus.Just enjoy it for what it is,and tell all your friends.

I saw this movie as a kid at the theater "in the back corner of the mall" that showed those "hardcore R" movies in the late 70's - nervous buying the tix but the theater guy always let us in. Without a doubt, watchable. I'm just getting my kids to appreciate "cinema" and this one is one the list. Most of it is where we saw it versus what we saw but it's now viewable in your home at your calling. Technology. I personally dislike CGI and the proliferation of computers as "film" so these are the type of movies that now define an era gone by. Sad but true. There is an appreciation to be had with this movie that's like watching Shakespeare in the Park with motocross and entertaining foley artist work (albeit laughable).

Anyone visiting the Hollywood hills during the late seventies had be prepared for running across film crews perpetrating monstrosities like this little beauty on which Quentin Tarantino gorged during his misspent youth.

New World supremo Roger Corman's name on the credits wasn't the recommendation it was fifteen years earlier, especially as it suffers from the usual seventies infelicities of ghastly haircuts, hideous synthesised music, hordes of mutants with eyes like ping pong balls and exteriors that look like giant jelly moulds.

Feminists might take issue at casting a Playboy playmate as the female lead, but the late Miss Jennings wields a mean blaster and never wears anything remotely as humiliating as David Carradine's loin cloth (a sight it's going to take me a long time to forget).