Deathsport

Co-Directed by the one-and-only Roger Corman, DEATHSPORT takes place in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, where David Carradine runs around in his underwear and a cape. He also gets to wave a clear plastic sword around. Nefarious forces, led by Richard Lynch, are trying to stop those like Carradine's character from escorting people to freedom.

Once captured, our heroes are sentenced to participate in the titular tournament, sort of a souped-up motorcycle version of DEATH RACE 2000.

You've really got to hand it to Mr. Corman, who could always be counted on to keep churning out Drive-In fodder like this for the hungry masses. Co-star / schlock goddess, Claudia Jennings, spends a lot of her screen time in a groovy bikini, or completely naked. Usually while being tortured, so, fans take note.

Absolutely ridiculous from start to finish, the entertainment value is sky-high. Cheeeze addicts, gather your friends, distribute the intoxicants, and prepare for a rollicking good time!...

Inexpensive sequel to "Death Race 2000" (1975), that bares little relation (both in content and quality) to the original. Gone is the camp dialogue and black humour - arrived is a painfully ear-splitting synthesiser score, pyrotechnic displays and banal screenplay. The only redemption that can be attributed to "Deathsport" is its cast and some of the action sequences. In a distant, post apocalyptic future, reticent hero David Carradine (no reprisal of his Frankenstein role here) competes in a motorcycle race that is actually a spectator sport. Having mashed a few brains beneath the wheels of his motorcycle, our cyborg hero develops a cult following much to the chagrin of the evil Ankar (Richard Lynch in fine form). Ankar considers himself the bigger enchilada, and sets out to annihilate Carradine and his flock.

Formula science fiction fare, with a just a hint of talent, courtesy of a capable cast and some light humour. Alongside the fearless Carradine is former Playboy playmate, Claudia Jennings, whose frequent disrobing more than compensates for her apparent lack of thespian skills. Sadly, this was to be her swansong. The three principals are ably assisted by veterans William Smithers (playing it straight, as always), and David MacLean (playing it up, as always).

"Deathsport" features some fluent action sequences and macabre special effects, but unlike its witty predecessor, the laughs are largely unintentional. When all the trailblazing is over and done, and Jennings has put her clothes back on, you can't help but feel short-changed. But then, as the credits disappear into the back of your TV set, the film's origins are revealed. You nod your head and forgive, because you understand. It's a New World Picture. They don't write 'em like that anymore ...

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.

There's your standard B-movie cheese and then there's the gloriously goofy "Deathsport". A follow-up, rather than sequel, to "Death Race 2000" (with David Carradine returning in a protagonist role), it shows us a Dystopian future in which "range guides" like Kaz Oshay (Carradine) and Deneer (B movie goddess Claudia Jennings) do battle with villains called "Statesmen". These baddies are led by a hilarious Richard Lynch (playing Ankar Moor), a guy given to making supposedly meaningful statements. Moor works for a dictator named Lord Zirpola (David McLean), whose sexual tastes tend towards the strange and sadistic.

You'll be busy trying to keep track of all the humans, objects, and animals zapped out of existence with this riotous debacle, began by a man named Nicholas Niciphor (a.k.a. Henry Suso), who proved to be not up to the task. Allan Arkush ("Get Crazy", "Rock 'n' Roll High School") then did his able best to try to salvage this production. The action is often very good, with tons of explosions, some intense camera-work, a bit of gore, some fire gags, and an occasional decapitation. There's even some cribbing of "Star Wars" sound effects, and a music score (composed by Andy Stein, with guitar performances by Jerry Garcia) that is PRICELESS in its tackiness. The script is by Niciphor and Donald E. Stewart, and it contains some of the funniest, most ridiculous dialogue that you'll hear in a movie of this kind. The so-called "mutants" are very low-rent: basically a few actors in rags scurrying about with golf-ball eyes.

Fortunately, the filmmakers aren't stupid, contriving a means to get Jennings, as well as Valerie Rae Clark as a dancer, out of their clothes. The performances are pretty straight-faced from all concerned, which only makes the "story", such as it is, even more humorous. Carradine runs around in a diaper for a while and is a hoot as the good guy, while Jennings retains her appeal as a performer. The supporting cast includes a couple of familiar faces, such as Jesse Vint, William Smithers, H.B. Haggerty, and Brenda Venus.

A real comedown from the social commentary, dark humour, and campy appeal of "Death Race 2000", but yet "Deathsport" has undeniable pleasures for anybody looking for a "so bad it's good" type of movie. At least it keeps moving.

Six out of 10.

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).