This one falls squarely
within so-bad-it’s-good territory, because the combination of an idiotic
storyline, ludicrously overlong action scenes, and some truly heinous performances
make Death Machines unintentionally amusing.
Featuring an arbitrary combination of cops, criminals, martial artists, and
vigilantes, Death Machines feels like
it was made from a checklist of signifiers that had filled grindhouses in the
past. Forget characterization, logic, and motivation—Death Machines has mayhem, stereotypes, and tacky synth music. Let
the good times roll! Cowriter-director Paul Kyriazi’s silly narrative revolves
around Madame Lee (Mari Monjo), an Asian crime boss based in America. For no
discernible reason, she brainwashes three dudes—one Asian, one black, and one
white—into becoming murderous automatons. Then she orders the dudes to attack
gunmen in the employ of Mr. Gioretti (Chuck Katsakian), a Mafia leader, in
order to demonstrate the superiority of her “death machines.”
Gioretti and Lee
strike a deal of some kind, resulting in a wave of absurd murders—for instance,
the “death machines” break into a martial-arts academy and kill everyone present,
instead of just waiting until closing time so they can kill their target, the
academy’s proprietor. Once the crime spree begins, diligent cop Lt. Forrester
(Ron Ackerman) tries to identify the murderers with the help of Frank (John
Lowe), the lone survivor of the attack on the martial-arts academy. Eventually,
the police capture the white “death machine” (Ron Marchini), but he goes into
full Terminator mode by annihilating half the police force during an escape
from police headquarters. Oh, and there’s a love story, too, because Frank
falls for his nurse while recovering from injuries sustained in the attack,
which means the flick screeches to a halt for 20 minutes of sappy stuff that’s
ridiculously inconsistent with the rest of the movie.
And yet that’s not the
highlight. Without question, the “best” scene in Death Machines involves the white killer trying to eat a burger in
a diner—while sporting bloody wounds and handcuffs following his escape from
the cops—even as the diner’s owner tries to talk to him about Jesus. The poor
guy’s only reprieve from preaching happens when a gang of bikers shows up to
start a brawl. Death Machines is a
terrible movie, with clumsy cinematography and a litany of clichés compounding
the innate stupidity of the narrative, but the picture almost anticipates that
special brand of comic-book nihilism that John Carpenter hit with campy movies
including They Live (1988). So, while others should steer clear, aficionados of crap cinema will find much to enjoy.
Death Machines: FUNKY
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