For the heartiest snicker of the summer, do not skip the end credits of “Death Race.”
In a nod to responsible behavior – and certainly great humor – the makers of this loud and ludicrous video game of a flick remind us that stunt drivers in carefully controlled conditions made “Death Race” happen.
Moreover, any bloodthirsty speed freaks among viewers should not attempt to duplicate any of the action/carnage we’ve just witnessed over the past 90 minutes.
Talk about an LOL moment in a film that’s got plenty of ’em.
This gentle reminder implies that we deep-pocketed audience members have easy access to napalm, flamethrowers, automatic weaponry, ejector seats, cars tricked out as tanks and a vacant industrial warehouse – equally tricked out – the size of Catalina Island.
Those are the resources of Terminal Island Prison, home to the grungiest of the grunge. It’s 2012, and playing to a public that wants limitless gore and destruction, TI’s greedy warden (played by Joan Allen who, one hopes, was well-paid) has created the Death Race.
Over three increasingly vicious stages, road-skilled convicts circle the course, trying to annihilate their opponents along the way as 45 million logged-on viewers spectate. Win enough matches and a convict earns his freedom. Lose and it’s rest in peace. Or, more likely, in pieces.
The story begins with favored driver Frankenstein driving his last race. Desperate to keep up ratings, the warden frames ex-NASCAR driver Jensen Ames (“The Transporter’s” Jason Statham) for a murder and blackmails him into wearing Frankenstein’s mask and competing.
Race scenes are bracketed by prison fights and some laughable attempts at character definition. Apart from Ames’ pit boss, Coach (Ian McShane), his fellow convicts are as cartoonishly nasty as a movie like this needs them to be. And once the race starts, every last one of them is toast.
Director Paul W.S. Anderson (not to be confused with Paul Thomas Anderson, the director of “There Will Be Blood”) spins nimbly off the scenario of Paul Bartel’s 1975 camp fest, “Death Race 2000.” Roger Corman has produced both films.
In our “Death Race,” the mayhem is considerable, but the deaths are surprisingly quick and largely gore-free. Even the token hot chicks who serve as the convicts’ navigators are scantily clad, but never topless. For these minuscule mercies, we should, I guess, be thankful.
So, go see “Death Race” if road chaos is your thing. And, like the film says: Don’t annihilate and drive.
