DEATH RACE 2000 (1975)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *irony*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *psychological, sociological*

The name "Roger Corman" does not usually get paired with the concept of irony, and even the few movies he's made within that category, such as 1959's A BUCKET OF BLOOD, tend to be among his more cheapjack efforts. But DEATH RACE 2000 is actually a better satire than a lot of arthouse efforts, precisely because it wallows in the sort of spectacle with which Corman's name is synonymous-- lots of sex and violence. To be sure, viewers will never know how RACE would have turned out had director Paul Bartel not been forced to elide a lot of his preferred humor-scenes, almost certainly in favor of more breasts and blood. But the result is a balancing act between the priorities of Corman, the consummate carny showman, and Bartel the aesthete trying to eschew mere kinetic entertainment.

It's 2000, and the American government has become a totalitarian government which keeps citizens happy with bread and circuses in the form of the Transcontinental Road Race. The drivers in the race are not only allowed to kill one another if they can, they're also allowed to run down any citizens that get near the race track, for "bonus points." This combination of gladiatorial games and government-imposed euthanasia doesn't go over well with everyone, so a Resistance group led by Thomasina Paine (descendant of the Revolutionary War philosopher) seeks to undermine America's corrupt regime by sabotaging the race.

Most of the racers have become popular personalities with names approximating those of professional wrestlers: "Nero the Hero," "Matilda the Hun," and "Machine Gun Joe," the last being a guy outfitted like a thirties-style gangster and played by a young Sylvester Stallone. Machine Gun is the second most popular racer with the frantic fans, but the favorite is Frankenstein (David Carradine), a mysterious costumed combatant whose face-mask is said to conceal scars from many racing injuries. Each contestant drives with a navigator in the passenger's seat, and in Frankenstein's case, he gets a comely young woman named Annie (Simone Griffith) as his new partner.

In no time the racers are flying down the track, callously running down any pedestrians-- even fans-- incautious enough to come close. At the same time, the rebels begin setting traps for the cars, and even Frankenstein almost falls victim. He begins to suspect Annie of colluding with the Resistance. Meanwhile, Annie learns that Frankenstein's supposed disfigurement is just a narrative designed to justify the wearing of the mask, since the government constructed the identity so that various wards of the state could assume the persona. (Thus, this "Frankenstein" is made up not of disparate body parts but of disparate people.) With all of this unburdening of secrets, eventually Frankenstein and Annie end up in bed together, though at first it appears to be something of a "wham bam" encounter. However, the taciturn road-warrior reveals that he shares the ambition of the Resistance: to get close enough to the President to kill him. But before this ambivalent hero can do so, he has to get past the blasting assaults of Machine Gun.

Since the script was produced by three primary contributors, I can't say which may have contributed the naive notion of being able to overthrow a regime just by killing off the head of state. But the way in which the notion is conveyed-- complete with Frankenstein and his bride Annie immediately assuming the status of the new rulers-- draws attention to the falseness of the trope, so that, like all ironies, it subtly undermines the myths it seemingly endorses-- though arguably doing nothing but making a different type of myth.