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Directed By
Larry Bishop
Written By:
Larry Bishop
Cast:
Larry Bishop, Dennis Hopper, Michael Madsen, Vinnie Jones, Eric Balfour, Kanin J. Howell, Michael Beach, Cassandra Hepburn, Leonor Varela, Laura Cayouette, Francesco Quinn, Bonnie Aarons, Mary Castro, Cristos, Amber Hay, Diana Terranova, Steve McCammon, Theresa Alexandria, Dean Delray, Nixon Suicide, Claudia Salinas, Kasey Poteet, Julia Jones, Alison McAtee, David Grieco, Andrea Fellers, Terry Fradet, Alyson Kiperman, Michael Macecsko, Ivonne Oquendo, Tracy Phillips, Pete Randall, Vincent Rivera, Natasha Yi, Sanja Banic, Nygell
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Hell Ride (2008)
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Movie Review by Jarrod
August 9th, 2008
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'Hell Ride' is a throwback to 60s (or maybe 70s) exploitation cinema, the stuff that greatly inspired Quentin Tarantino, and incidentally, writer-director Larry Bishop copies Tarantino rather blatantly, along with Mad Max, and perhaps any movie that has featured biker gangs in what often looks like a post-apocalyptic setting. Bishop casts himself as Pistolero, the leader of the Victors, which is engaged in a war with another faction, called the 666ers (Hell's Angels is already taken, so another name with a satanic connotation had to be picked instead), led by the sadistic Billy Wings (Vinnie Jones). Pistolero has two lieutenants, The Gent (Michael Madsen) and Comanche (Eric Balfour), with some additional support from Eddie Zero (Dennis Hopper), formerly one of Pistolero's chief subordinates. Wings is more of a figurehead, a puppet whose strings are pulled by Deuce (David Carradine); he has Billy do his dirty work for him while he stays conveniently out of harm's way.
Bishop developed a cult following, and I believe Tarantino is still a big fan, even casting him in Kill Bill Vol. 2. He appeared on episodes of Kung Fu (with Carradine), Laverne and Shirley, and I Dream of Jeannie, and some exceedingly bad biker pictures starting in 1968 with The Savage Seven and up to 1971's Chrome and Hot Leather. There are moments where I thought he bore a physical resemblance to Martin Sheen, and other moments when I thought he has raided David Hasselhoff's closet, maybe getting some of those outfits from Knight Rider. He is 60 years old, and looks it, but establishes Pistolero as some sort of sex god who is irresistible to women; I find him repulsive, ugly and disheveled, visibly lacking good personal hygiene. The way this movie portrays women is one of its most unwholesome attributes.
They are all superficial sluts, largely ornamental, there as eye candy, naked or wearing clothing that is either see-through or skin-tight. It conceptualizes women as a teenage boy might, in his head, while masturbating or reading the latest issue of a forbidden adult magazine. But to the male audience, this is hardly a flaw. And the presence of beautiful females helps to remove the image of the supremely unattractive Bishop, who thankfully avoids nudity. Bishop is a terrible actor, but even the more experienced thespians he has recruited for this film could be rightly accused of that, as well, or at least of hilarious over-acting. Madsen and Jones were last seen together in Tooth & Nail, where they played members of a vicious gang of cannibals stalking and preying upon survivors holed up in a hospital.
Madsen revs up his tough guy persona, which served him well in Reservoir Dogs, but is far from intimidating. Eric Balfour is in a trance; only Hopper and Carradine seem to be having any fun, and clearly recognize how silly the whole thing is. Hopper, of course, made Easy Rider. As for motorcycle erotica, many of the men we see here prefer bikes to women, find that riding around on a hog is more stimulating and arousing than intercourse or the sight of curvy female bodies. It is trashy, violent, and cheesy, with dialogue that occasionally aspires to echo the rhythms and patterns of Tarantino, certain scenes and effects attempt to emulate Tarantino, but Bishop is a Z-grade talent, while Tarantino is firmly entrenched in the A-list.
It is difficult to recommend a movie like this, and it has few redeeming virtues, if any, a paucity of compelling or exciting action sequences, uneven pacing that is noticeable despite a brief 82-minute running time, a resounding emptiness that renders it entirely forgettable. But, being so inane and derivative, maybe that is something Bishop is proud of, and maybe that is how he will choose to promote the film, and doubtlessly it will have its defenders and people who love it, enjoy it immensely and denounce me for just not getting it, or being too much of a snob. I got that with Neil Marshall's Doomsday.
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