Drive Angry – review

27 Feb

Drive Angry

Once upon a time there was a boy who grew up in great luxury. He was the nephew of a very famous director and could have anything that he wanted. What he wanted was to be an actor. So he tried and tried, but felt that he was treated differently because he was privileged. So he changed his second name to that of America’s first black superhero and set off into the acting world.  He made some good films (Raising Arizona), some bad films (National Treasure) and some preposterously titled films (Bangkok Dangerous). Drive Angry ranks among the latter category.

Titles that deal in B-movie schlock are ten-a-penny these days, films such as Machete, Planet Terror and Deathproof revel in their roots and have found a considerably sized audience on both sides of the Atlantic. It is to this audience that Drive Angry attempts to appeal. With tits, guns and gore by the bucketload this is a no-holds-barred crass comedy that attempts no great feats of cinematography. This in itself is no crime, however coupled with an inane sense of humour, bum-fluff plot and Cage’s nonsensical blond wig it makes for a frighteningly bad film.

The story, as was inferred earlier, is pure hokum. Angry Dad (Cage) comes back from hell to get revenge on the bad men (Satanists) who killed his daughter. There is also something to do with a demonic accountant and a pretty girl/stripper-in-denial who happens to drive a 1969 Dodge Charger (as waitresses do). Cage swears and drinks himself to hell and back again, shoots people and does his best to look as cool as possible with some sort of dead mammal on his scalp.

All in all, if you like bad cinema, this is for you, however if you value your eyeballs and eardrums, then this film avoid.


Sean Cameron


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