One of the perks of writing about film incessantly is that whatever it is, you get there eventually. I’ve written over a thousand reviews and I finally got to Roger Corman. Not that my thoughts on the king of B film are anything unique or insightful, but if you write about film, Corman ought to be there somewhere.
I saw Roger Corman’s Death Race 2000 in the 1970s. I was too young for it then and I’m too old for it now. To be fair, that ideal Death Race window is narrow, very narrow – you have to be old enough to handle gory, indulgent violence and young enough not to care how stupid the plot actually is. That describes only a certain type of movie fan. Spurred on by then uniqueness of vision and actors with at least a base amount of appeal, Death Race 2000 was symphonic perfection compared to Death Race 2050.
I believe the “2050” portion of Death Race 2050 pertains to the year, but this detail like so many others in the film is neither explained, nor begging for explanation. The Death Race is a segmented cross-country street contest for callous murderers; how one enters the Death Race? Not explained. What are the rules of the Death Race? Not explained. Why would anyone sit in the stands at the outset of the race knowing that drivers get points for fatalities? Not explained. Do the points factor in the final standings? Not explained. Do the daily finishes factor into the final standings? Not explained. You might even care were the entire movie not a gas tank full of crap.
Death Race 2050 acknowledges that the United States has changed considerably from the land you know; I’m not quite sure if the vehicles that race here still use gasoline combustion engines, but it does look like they’ve been constructed by a local high school – make sure that airplane glue dries just right, boys. Really? No, I’m just kidding; put a fang there and paint it green; it will look “future-y.”
The four entrants in the event (well, five, but one is a self-driven car that drops out early) pair off into the competitors: defending champ Frankenstein (Manu Bennett) — Is he supposed to be the same Frankenstein played by David Carradine in 1975?– battling pale ab collector Jed Perfectus (Burt Grinstead), while the also-rans are crazy ultra-Christian Tammy (Anessa Ramsey) and token minority gap-tooth soul queen Minerva (Folake Olowofoyeku). The common factor of these four? I hated all of them. The other commonality? They were all terrible actors. There are other people in this film, and they’re somehow even worse, if that’s possible. Unforgivable ham-ster doesn’t begin to describe this talent-challenged cast, perhaps the worst being Malcolm McDowell, of whom you might first question, “what is he doing in this film?” and then respond shortly thereafter with, “oh. Fitting in.”
I don’t want to say this was a complete waste of time. Yes, the 90 minute film does feel like it takes several years to complete, but it is a Roger Corman, so gratuitous bare breasts will mix with the occasional airborne section of large intestine. I did enjoy many of the geographic name changes to the United States as we know it including: Walmartinique (formerly Arkansas), Washington, DC (formerly Dubai) and the addition of Bieber Elementary School. If the art design, dialogue, 
action or acting were even 1/10th as clever as the updated nomenclature, this film could have climbed its way out of the 2017 doghouse. It wasn’t and it won’t.
In 1975, Death Race 2000 predated not-so-death-y coast-to-coasters like The Gumball Rally and The Cannonball Run. Was it simply ahead of its time? The basic premise for the latter is a bunch of colorful idiots race across the country and share spirited adventures. The Death Race version simply adds violence into the equation, making it a Roman Colosseum type of entertainment, which, in turn, allows for political commentary. Of course, between Death Race 2000 and Death Race 2050, plenty of films from The Running Man to Gladiator have adequately commented on the fine line between societal entertainment and brutality, essentially making the Corman revamp unnecessary. The fact that almost every detail within is unpleasant really brings the whole thing together. Maybe in another forty years, there will be an improvement to this genre, but I really wouldn’t count on the inevitable Death Race 2100 being anything special.
♪Say a prayer viewer one
Soon this Hell is done
And you’ll watch something fun
Turn you off, you will scoff
Entertainment *cough*
Roger Corman is smug
Sleep though all of act two
Gripping the barf bag tight
Exit: Race
Enter: Grace
“Change,” I said
Let’s watch “Orange is Black” instead♫
Rated R, 92 Minutes
D: G.J. Echternkamp
W: G.J. Echternkamp, Matt Yamashita
Genre: Roger Corman lives!
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Teenage me, maybe
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Present me, surely
♪ Parody inspired by “Enter Sandman”
