Battletruck is your new lord. Battletruck is steel-built and strength-protected. Battletruck: final fortress of the bold-goliaths. I spent 91 minutes watching a Roger Corman behemoth called Battletruck and I enjoyed it. Perhaps I reside not on Earth, but a distant rock perpetually terraforming into Earth 2, where the boronic surface and Argon-fuelled atmosphere have mutated my thoughts into pure uncritical whimsy. Perhaps pre-gaming this post-apocalyptic big-rig adventure with the David Carradine-in-a-diaper-whirling-plexiglass-broad-swords nightmare Deathsport lowered my inhibitions so whichever suitor followed would appear unduly desirable. Perhaps, PERHAPS, perhaps there is some intrinsic value to this oft-derided, supposed Road Warrior clone with a goofy title.
There was an oil war, there are now roaming petrol-starved militias, there are some hippie communes, a Joseph Campbell-esque lone hero, and all the standard post-nuke tropes we've been force-fed for 35 years. Our villain Straker (James Wainwright) rides through the world on the titular armored beast craving oil to keep on moving for no given reason other than he desires oil to keep on moving. This hummer limo of the future appears to require the entire world's remaining supply just to drive 1/4 mile, but I'm not here to argue the logic of Battletruck. Frankly the plot is only remarkable in that it mirrors a certain Mad Max sequel despite being conceived years prior to and filmed simultaneously as George Miller's masterpiece. Unfortunately (though deservedly) Battletruck remains the Infamous to The Road Warrior's Capote.
However I am in awe at what Battletruck gets right. Remember this is Roger Corman sci-fi and brings with it less than stellar expectations. But the visual sophistication on display here is stupefying considering its New World Pictures origin. The main culprit could be the superheroic teamwork of director Harley Cokeliss and future two time Oscar winning cinematographer Chris Menges. Much of the visual quality stems from their use of the New Zealand expanse to tell the story. We are not simply told the world is desolate, we see brown and dust and desert for miles and miles. There are never close-ups of characters walking by a muddy hill but distant compositions where the actors are but poppy seeds on the plains, making the plight against a barren wasteland seem all the more hopeless. There is a fantastic helicopter shot of protagonist Hunter (an ineffectual Michael Beck) riding his motorcycle toward a mountain range. This single take lasts unusually long, starting at a distance, smoothly moving in, gliding around the side, all while keeping our hero generally centered in the frame. He never seems to be making any progress toward the menacing mountains despite riding at an accelerated speed. This shot tells the story of the largely uninhabited world, our hero's skill with machine's, and his travel regimen (he rides toward his isolated homestead far from the commune), and it only works due to the inordinate length we hold on it.  |
| From John Ford to Battletruck |
Speaking of, the action sequences are tense and dramatic thanks to inventive photography and exacting rhythm. When Straker's force is heard hurdling toward the commune, the populace stops working in a meadow of stripped trees, listens with abject fear to the oncoming death squad, and begins to run to safety. The eery location and precise dolly work enhance the dread of the inevitable brutality as we follow the inhabitants through the trees and up a cliff, all actors placed perfectly to utilize the depth and size of the frame. We see firearms collected, the residents setting up behind a fence where the camera dollys across as multiple fighters position themselves and aim their rifles. This is far from your standard exploitation "workman" cinematography. The way the camera moves and the pacing of each shot build the tension for the oncoming bedlam which we know will end in massive casualties for the benevolent pseudo-hippies, only now we actually care. Later on Straker's minions burn down a wooden house in a scene which looks absolutely spectacular, and while not on the level of Tarkovsky's Mirror (what is?), for a film called Battletruck on a Cormanized budget I was bowled over at the artistic inferno.
The production design care of Gary Hansen is consistently impeccable for the miniscule funds on hand. Nearly all sets were built on location, they have sprawl and a genuine lived-in feel rather than ever seeming cheap or "like sets". The giant walled commune, Hunter's house, the geodesic dome, all appear like locales found abandoned by savvy scouts rather than concoctions of a cinematic architect. The Battletruck itself is a wonder to behold, a robust megaton beast that threatens with sheer size. Sure, conceptually this 18-wheeled colossus is beyond ridiculous but it certainly looks the part with an imposing weight that cannot be faked.
Of course there are many flaws in Battletruck, because it's called Battletruck. Leading man Michael Beck is unbearably dull as a loner who comes off as a petulant child who banished himself to his room rather than a rugged man of solitude with an air of mystery like Shane. He also tends to over-zealously ride a stationary vehicle for the sake of close-ups, diluting his dignity ever so slightly. Annie McEnroe as Corlie is a bit of a blank slate, leaving us with two leads who inspire little confidence. The supporting cast makes up for this in spades however with a wily pre-Cheers John Ratzenberger leading the commune, a slimeball Randy Powell as a suspicious turncoat with thick whiskers, and the aforementioned James Wainwright and John Bach who may lack motives but at least exude authoritative evil. Then there are the plot holes and VW Bugs-as-weapons-of-war, but I don't care. Battletruck surprised me in ways I thought Battletruck could not. All praise Battletruck, for Battletruck is life, Battletruck is the new flesh. And the Lord said unto Noah, come thou and all thy house into Battletruck, for thee have I seen righteous before me.
