I’m “biast” (con): nothing
(what is this about? see my critic’s minifesto)
Deliver me from little boys who think that tossing together some ideas stolen from Mad Max and Firefly, some visual tropes swiped from Tarantino, and some “hilarious” characters who are sexist morons makes for a fun, sexy, badass flick. Oh, are writers Henry Saine, Jason Dodson, and Colin Ebeling (Saine directs) older than 12? Coulda fooled me. Who else would name a whorehouse the “Thirsty Beaver”? *cue adolescent sniggering* In a standard grungy postapocalyptic future — though one in which there’s still gas for muscle cars and delicate white stockings and “hooker boots” to be had — “the Council” hires “bounty killers” to take out “white-collar criminals” for whom “the apocalypse was the greatest opportunity that came our way,” although we have scant evidence of this. There’s little that passes for a story here — a full hour in, I had no idea what is supposedly at stake for our “heroes,” bounty killers Drifter (Matthew Marsden) and Mary Death (Christian Pitre). This is the genre equivalent of soft-core porn: it doesn’t care how strained and derivative it is as long as it is delivering flying bullets, fast cars, and closeups on women’s sashaying asses.
People are still making stuff like this? I thought it went out with the 80s, and they were doing no-budget horror now.
This is aimed right at late night frat house streaming, just as the junky VHS tapes used to be. A little weed, a keg, some munchies, soft-porn sex & violence–for some good ole boys it doesn’t get any better.
Real women are scary, anyway!
This turned up on Netflix and, in a fit of wanting something silly and cartoon-book-brought-to-life, I started watching it. Note I said started. The info dumpto explain why there were white collar criminals and the ‘rise’ of the bounty killers at the titles was so stupid, I tried watching for another few scenes and it was just falling to pieces is a haze of stupidity when it hasn’t built any corpus in the first place and then I switched it off.