|
||||
|
|
|
|
|
 |
Things happen when you close your eyes and pick a random sci-fi off the shelf. Bad things. |
 |
Some things are just plain bad for you. Crack for instance. Or how about eating broken glass? Or maybe getting ass-crammed by a horney donkey during mating season? This degrading shithole of a movie felt like all the above, with an overly fond cavity search thrown in for good measure. I have a quick task for you - go to your local supermarket. No, not the good one where the Mercedes driving posh folk go - I'm talking about that shitty, grime-filled one with the burned out car out front. The one where the store owner used to have an Uzi to warn off the criminals, but has now upgraded to an anti-personnel missile launcher for fear of his life. Every town has one. And within each of these places lies the trusty bargain bin - the place where commercial failures go to die. This is your objective. Have a good ol' reach inside there. If you reach past the VHS copies of Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, past that woolen Cartman with the eyes missing, past the numerous copies of Vanilla Ice's Greatest Hits. Reach all the way to the bottom of this festering graveyard of sindicated monstrosities, and you might just - if you're (un)lucky - find yourself clutching a copy of this cinematic gem. |
Run and hide... |
 Our leading man creates concern amongst his peers by only talking to others via a shoe. |
I remember a time when things were going well for me. Life was good – the sun was shining, the birds were singing, a big ol’ smile tore its way across my pale Limey face, and all was well with the world. It was like I’d gone to sleep and woken up in the middle of some delirious Disney-animated acid trip or something. Mine was a world of butterflies and unicorns and peace and love. And I hadn't even been drinking - that's how good things were. So imagine my utter dread and anguish when the head honcho of Rogue Cinema gets on my case about reviewing a movie about robots, or whatever the hell he was on about. You see, people don’t like robots – they’re dumb, stupid, and look like crap. That’s why no-one in their right mind ever makes movies about them. While more recent examples such as Terminator and I, Robot try to break the mould, finding a b-movie about robots that doesn’t bring bile to the back of your throat is like finding an ice diver who’s not keen on the cold... as unlikely as finding a clean urine sample in the Downey Jr. household. And things were going so well... |
So, presumably in some kind of alcohol-induced haze, I find myself with a copy of Screamers in my hand. This, for all ye fortunate, ignorant souls out there, is 1hr 45mins of cinematic tripe featuring Peter “I was in Robocop” Weller. Watching is cinematic abomination has forced me into believing in a twisted form of karma. You see, for every hideous misfortune that God inflicts upon mankind, he showers us with a beautiful miracle or some other funky sounding act of kindness. (Unless you've been a naughty little child, that is. If that's the case then he's coming to ram a broken bottle up your ass.) It works out - for every Christopher Walken that's born... there's a Peter Weller.
|
But let’s not be negative – every movie has its good points, right? Let’s see. While Weller isn’t exactly an acting phenomenon, (he may well be the worst actor to walk the Earth,) I was pleasantly surprised by the range shown here, as Mr Charisma delivers arguably his best ever performance – an epic in which he delivers two - count them TWO emotions. For a man who made his name dressed in a tin suit, that’s some pretty impressive stuff. Watch in awe as he delivers both shouting and boredom in quick succession, only to follow it up with occasional bouts of dazed confusion. This truly is the cinematic art form at its very best! (Dry sarcasm - natures alternative to Vicadin...) Another good point? Well, it was refreshing to see a sci-fi type movie that wasn’t flooded with cheesy product placement (presumably because no bugger’d sponsor the damn thing.) And that’s about it; try as I may, that’s the only good I can find about this... this... thing. Some of you mortals may take me as being overly negative. |
 Screamers - moles of the future or simply a cheesy special effect stolen from Termors? You decide. |
These are people who have never had to endure this movie. At least when I finally go postal and start shooting from clock towers, I'll have someone to blame it on. Bring on the geeks... |
 70's roller-disco still holds its novelty, even on Sirius 6B. |
Being out-acted by Peter Weller is a feat usually resulting in suicide. (Fortunately, Weller-related kamikaze remains at a consistant low.) The fact that the supporting cast are still alive is mere testiment to the fact that no-one in their right mind would ever turn up to watch such a shamelessly shit movie - let alone pay cash for doing so. Looking back, I'm not sure if suicide would be the right move for this motley crew of deadbeats, however. I've since come to the conclusion that death is simply too good for some people. Yes, that's how bad these people were. They sucked like a two dollar hooker on nickel beer night (I always wanted to say that...) Surrounding Robocop are a host of acting school drop outs who shouldn’t be allowed out in public, let alone on the screens of a nation. The delivery here ranges from borderline average to the kind of humiliating shite that would normally carry a government health warning. |
Want an example? That’s fine by me. Up first is Roy Dupuis, who has also featured in such cinematic classics as (and I quote) “How to make love to a negro without getting tired,” which was described as being “the biggest disappointment from Quebec in its recent film history.” You can look that one up on IMDB if you don’t believe me. Roy gives the most enjoyable (if wholly unrealistic and hilariously over-acted) performance in the whole film, delivering a sort of rugged, borderline psychotic type who walks around like a burned-out Kurt Russel proving to the world what a badass he is. You can tell he’s a hardcase because he doesn’t shave. I'm sure Ms. Dupuis is very proud. Also up to bat is Jennifer Rubin, who brought us such cinematic legends as “Plump Fiction” – she provides the love interest for this movie, in a scene where Robocop and her don’t let a mere technicality like being surrounded by the dismembered corpses of their friends stop them from getting it on. Not that there was much choice mind you – she’s the only female in the movie to get any lines. In most brainless action movies (a category in which this film miraculously falls) Rubin would be there to provide some rather dandy T&A to the film. She fails even to do that, looking about as fetching in that hi-tech jump suit as Corey from Slipknot. (Perhaps she should take inspiration from that and also wear a mask?) Being out-performed by the likes of Paris Hilton, it's no wonder that Rubin has never actually been in any real movies. It's not that she's particularly bad looking mind, it's just that she's portrayed in sucha way she more often resembles Marilyn Manson than the femme fatale of outer space. That, coupled with a performance more painful than licking bubbling magma, make you wish for some horrific accident to take place. The resulting crimson splashings would have made my day. Space age bilge... |
The plot? Actually by far the movie’s strongest point – written by Phil Dick (yes - it really was written by a guy called dick! ha!) who penned sci-fi hits Total Recall and Blade Runner, this movie could have been a masterpiece of suspense, tension and memorable special effects had it fallen into the right hands. Oh how cruel fate can be. The story involves two warring factions blowing each other up on a planet called Sirius 6B. (Everyone needs a hobby I guess.) Robocop’s side have created a dastardly and sinister race of evolving robots called Screamers to wipe out the enemy – special effects borrowed straight from Tremors ensue, along with a healthy selection of rubber body parts. The Screamer’s evolution into an unleashed killing entity driven to the extermination of mankind leaves only our humbled cast surprised. |
 Wishful thinking? |
It is also worth noting that despite the sea of unintentionally hilarious violence and sliced human bodies, there is not one drop of blood. (That’d require too much mopping up I guess, something the movie’s laughable budget evidently couldn’t stretch to.) Those darned Screamers decide to evolve into humans, as you do, and play wounded soldiers, weeping children, etc. When a gullible human comes too near – SPLAT! This brings us to my favourite scene in the movie, involving a base full of these demented child-bots being blown up, shot, stabbed and set on fire by our band of noble warriors – who, despite decimating a whole orphanage of these crazed little buggers, seem about as concerned as I was about the P98 content of my Mac and Cheese. Did you know that Mac and Cheese contains Modified Maize Starch, which combined with refined Rapeseed Oil may not be suitable for those with specialised dietary requirements? No? Neither did I – but it’s amazing how interesting things like that get when you’re confronted with cinematic abortions like Screamers. Screenshots... |
 Home time at the Nike factory. |
 "Wanna play 'Pee pee under the microscope?'" |
In conclusion... |
This movie contains the following chunks of wholesome goodness... Here's some content symbols for you to feast and ravish upon. For an insight into our ratings system etc click here. |
|
Bad acting. |  |
Embarassing looking sci fi. |  |
Fashion suicide. |
The score... |
|
Click here to email everyone and tell the world of yet another low budget sci fi that fell flat on its arse. Click here to mail us something. Anything. Doesn't matter what. We never read that shit anyway. Click here to say hi to the other misfits in our guestbook. Click here to go back. |
 |
||||
|
|
|
|
|
 |
||||
