| Bloody awful Death Race remake has video-game style, but lacks the camp - and the intelligence - of the orginal
(Death Race, now showing)
D
| Removing all of the acridity and hilarity from the futuristic Roger Corman-produced original, director Paul W.S. Anderson compiles frenetically paced car crash after deadly car crash in his remake of an exploitation camp classic. As written by Charles Griffith and directed by Paul Bartel, the 1975 version was a stylish frolic about a televised road race where the pileups of casualties earned the drivers points (special bonuses for infants and senior citizens!). With over-the-top performances by a young Sylvester Stallone and David Carradine, Death Race 2000 miraculously managed all of the fun while balancing a prediction about the decrease of values in modern society.
By the looks of it, Anderson probably hasn't seen the original, preferring to repeat his metallic, barren aesthetic from his little-seen debut Shopping, upgrading slightly to accommodate the more hard-boiled machismo of chiseled action star Jason Statham. Here, instead of the remake being more ambitious, it downsizes the broadcasted spectacle from states-wide to a locked-off prison yard, and instead of the president of the United States sanctioning the mayhem, it's a wicked warden (a career low for The Ice Storm's Joan Allen) presiding over an isolated penitentiary.
In an economically unruly 2012, Jensen Ames (Statham) is a former race-car driver framed by the malicious Allen for the murder of his beloved wife. Forced to impersonate the legendary competitor Frankenstein (Carradine, in a voice-only cameo) after his fiery death on the track, Ames sets out to win the last of five wins posing as this crowd-favourite, boosting ratings and ensuring his freedom in the process. Working alongside him in the pit is a wise mechanic (Ian McShane), his two lackeys, and navigational companion Case (Natalie Martinez), the latter turning up to provide eye-candy. All pledge to keep Ames' identity a secret to the other ruffian contestants (Tyrese Gibson as Machine Gun Joe and Max Ryan as Pachenko being the most capable offenders).
And this is where Anderson's video-game visuals kick into overdrive, with a closed-off track complete with Mario Kart 'hot spots' allowing for the automobiles to gain access to the sundry guns and accessories allowed by authorities to help them do away with one another. As in '75, Anderson draws allusions to ancient Rome and the fight-until-death sport of gladiators, but his film isn't intelligent enough to provide anything more than basic lip service to the idea. Pandemonium reigns supreme, and slam-bang, blurry stylistics cancel out any supposed smarts.
What's curiously absent in Anderson's version is any semblance of audience members eating up this fatal exhibition at home, on television, or (as it's hinted at) on the world wide web. The different 'types' of viewers made up a crucial component in the original, as the morally compromised and ethically repugnant folks watching this blood-and-guts show entertainingly coloured in the lines of their over-exaggerated universe. In Anderson's world, everything's so monotonously blue-grey that there's no chance of an energetic, caustic wave, resulting in a relentlessly spirit-crushing experience.
— Aaron Graham |
Uptown
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