She Wolves of the Wasteland (Robert Hayes, 1988)

If there's one thing that annoys me about films that purportedly take place in a post-apocalyptic hellscape and/or wasteland, it's the one's that don't utilize punk and new wave fashions. I don't care if the end of the world was caused by nuclear or zombie-based means, I want to see lots of mohawk-sporting people–preferably hot chicks–wearing fingerless gloves while attempting to fire shotguns from moving dune buggies. What I don't want to see is a lot of pointless blather and self-absorbed navel gazing. And luckily the producers of She Wolves of the Wasteland (a.k.a. Phoenix the Warrior) don't engage in any of that nonsense. Probably because they don't know what "navel gazing" entails exactly (perhaps they think it involves watching ships sailing out to sea). But then again, the encounter with the Rezule warriors, a mutant race of TV worshiping nomads who live on the outskirts of the "badlands," during the film's third does a pretty decent job of mocking television, while, at the same time, reminding me of Current 93, particularly the stuff they made between 'Dogs Blood Rising' and 'Swastikas for Noddy.' And I'm not talking about your everyday, run-of-the-mill mocking, I'm talking about the subtle variety, the kind that causes you to look at something from a decidedly cockeyed point-of-view. When it's not skewering those who live a sedentary lifestyle or reminding me of the music of David Tibet, it's busy doing other things. Channeling films like, Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (protective sports equipment worn in a non-athletic environment), Megaforce (dune buggies and Persis Khambatta), Golden Temple Amazons (scantily clad warrior women), The Women (with one or two exceptions, the cast is all female) and Hell Comes to Frogtown (sperm is a treasured commodity), the action-packed film, written and directed by Robert Hayes, is terribly acted yet immensely enjoyable slice of late '80s exploitation cheese.
 

 

Getting back to my original point for a second, the punk and new wave fashions seen throughout She Wolves of the Wasteland, all designed by Jill Conners, are what make the film work. The reason I'm looking forward to the apocalypse, besides the fact that I can carry my Steyr Aug around in public without having to worry about being constantly hassled by the man, is that I can wear pretty much anything I want. Sure, I can do that now, but I think the apocalypse will erode any nagging inhibitions I've been secretly harbouring, and allow me to fly my freak flag without shame. You see, I don't see the apocalypse as a negative, I see it as an opportunity; one that involves neon-coloured garter belts, buckled footwear for as far as Siouxsie Sioux can see, and automatic weapons. 
 

 

The desert. The reason it's the go-to location for filmmakers working with a limited budget is because it manages to convey a sense of emptiness without costing the producers an arm and a leg. And one of those legs belongs to associate producer Persis Khambatta, who also stars as Colbalt, the primary henchwoman for the dictatorial Reverend Mother (Sheila Howard), a creepy-looking woman who manufactures sperm for a living. Well, at least she tries to. You see, the bacterial wars have wiped out all the men. Able to breed women, the Reverend Mother, called so because she is responsible for creating the majority of the world's women in her lab, is having trouble producing men.
 

 

Anyway, as you might expect, the Reverend Mother has developed a bit of a god complex. A woman (Michi, yeah, that's her name) tries to make off with some of her precious seed in a dune buggy, but is chased down by her band of warrior women, who are also driving dune buggies. Punishment for crossing the Reverend Mother usually involves death by absorption; her veins are coursing with estrogen and homemade sperm.
 

 

Outside on the streets of a desert shanty town, a so-called "breeder" is on the loose. Wearing a pair of aqua-coloured short shorts, so it's going to be hard for her to hide in a universe that's been soaking in taupe, Keela (Peggy McIntaggart) is not only with child, she's with male child. Luckily, just as Keela is about to be captured by a couple of bounty hunters, Phoenix (Kathleen Kinmont), a "sand trapper" with split ends, comes to her rescue by employing the old "toss an apple in the air, shoot your enemies in the chest with a shotgun as they stare at it falls through the air" trick. After engaging in a brief shoot-out with some of Reverend Mother's women, Phoenix ushers Keela to safety. Though, it should be said that Keela does save Phoenix from certain death at one point during the gun battle that ensues after the apple tossing incident.   
 

 

On top of being female, it would seem that headbands are mandatory in this universe. It's just something that I noticed as the women fired automatic weapons at one another. Speaking of noticing stuff, I couldn't help but notice that the shanty town's prerequisite Asian prostitute (Marta May) isn't wearing one. Yeah, that's right. She might love you long time, but she will do so without the aid of a headband. I guess she felt that her spiky hairdo didn't need the fabric-based security that only a finely woven headband can provide. If one of her spiky hairs does wind up getting in her face as she mock laps up the contents of a tricks' sweltering cooze, than so be it.
 

 

As Phoenix and Keela are making their getaway, it dawned on me that Peggy McIntaggart is a horrible actress. To be fair, she does get better as the film progresses. But, oh my, those initial scenes with Kathleen Kinmont were pretty grim. Bad actress or not, a visibly upset Cobalt vows to hunt down Keela if it's the last thing she does. As she's making this vow, two of her underlings, a long-haired brunette and a short-haired blonde with kung-fu skills, decide to fight one another. Finding temporary refuge with a tribe of Eluz warriors, the kind of women who bath in waterfalls with the beige bikini bottoms on (a society that is afraid of unclothed vaginas is a sick society), Leela, utilizing the muscles of her vaginal wall, eventually gives birth to her male child, which she names "Skyler."
 

 

Somehow able to sense where Skyler is, the Reverend Mother sends Cobalt to steal Skyler away from her mother. Well, actually, she doesn't really see it as stealing, as she views Skyler as her property. Either way, Cobalt and her forces attack the Eluz camp, resulting in a massive firefight. As the two sides are battling it out, Keela, Phoenix, and baby Skyler manage to slip away.
 

 

Five years have pasted, or maybe it was six, and Keela and Phoenix are still wandering the desert. There's no doubt in my mind that raising a boy in such a hostile environment is hard work, but they seem to be managing. Stumbling upon a rundown shack, they decide to crash there for awhile.  Heading into town to pick up some supplies, Phoenix encounters the shanty town Asian prostitute, who asks her, "Wanna date"? The look of annoyance on Phoenix's face when the Asian prostitute asks her for a date rubbed me the wrong way. Mainly because she seemed shocked that lesbianism would flourish in a world populated entirely by women. Nonetheless, I was happy to see the Asian prostitute, as her spiky hair, suspender pantyhose, and humourless expression managed to fill my heart with an unexpected amount of joy.
 

 

Replete with chicks carrying guns while wearing torn clothing, you wouldn't think that She Wolves of the Wasteland needed a man to spruce things up, but that's exactly what happens. Remember the shack I mentioned? It turns out it belongs to Guy (James Emery), a "seed tank" escapee who is the last man on earth, well, he was the last one, that is, until Skyler came along. After feeling his junk ("It's real!"), Leela and Phoenix are just about to take him for a test drive, when–you guessed it–Cobalt and her merry band of torn fishnet enthusiasts show up to cause trouble.
  

 

 

Unable to getaway in time (Keela, Guy and Skyler are able to escape via an underground pipe), Phoenix is captured and forced to fight in Cobalt's gladiator arena (keep an eye out for the Asian prostitute, as she makes her third and final appearance as an audience member). Taking on women with names like, Mohawk (Karen Russell), Blondie (Susan Overman), Orange Hair (Ginger Justin), and Neon (Laurie de Nuccio), Phoenix's skills as a warrior are put to the test.
 

 

Will Keela be able to convince Guy to help her mount a rescue attempt? Promising him a free dune buggy is a start. What did Keela do with those aqua short shorts? Why do they keep mentioning that they're about to enter "the badlands," when everywhere they went looked like "the badlands." I mean, there was nothing to differentiate the badlands from the areas that were supposedly not badlands. What was the deal with that translucent goo that was going through the tubes connected to the Reverend Mother's head and neck? And how come Kathleen Kinmont and Peggy McIntaggart don't appear topless? Some of these questions are answered at the end of She Wolves of the Wasteland, but most, sadly, are not.

 

 

Oh, and if anyone knows the name of the "actress" who plays the tall blonde in the torn black pantyhose who works for Cobalt, please let me know.

video uploaded by CFPollmaker

Megaforce (Hal Needham, 1982)

A shameless attempt to sell toys to the masses masquerading as a major motion picture, Megaforce is here to remind you that the shelves are fully stocked and that war is fun again. The jungle ambushes, the torched villages, and the screaming babies from the not-so fun war that took place during the previous decade have been replaced with flying motorcycles and dune buggies affixed with laser cannons. Armed conflict has been turned into a mostly bloodless affair where thousands of missiles are launched and countless tank rounds are blasted, yet no-one ever gets hurt. Hell, they don't even mess up their hair (follicle disorder is not only frowned upon, it's against the law). It reminds me of when I used to watch The A-Team as a smallish child. Sitting way too close to the television set as a self-absorbed youngster, my breath no doubt reeking of Fruit Roll-Ups and Wine gums, I recall drinking in the choreographed mayhem flickering before me and thinking: Gee, killing people is rad. However, once my adolescent bloodlust had subsided, my woefully underdeveloped brain would periodically wonder why the so-called bad guys weren't getting torn to pieces by the intense barrage being hurled in their general direction. The reason for the lack of casualties is because you can't promote war if you show the real consequences of war. The desire to murder needs to be instilled in the mind you're attempting to sway. The fear of dying, on the other hand, needs to be nullified.

My theory that this dusty undertaking is basically an army recruitment film is just that, a theory. Nevertheless, I know for a fact that toys were a major priority to the producers of this film. Seeing many a print ad for the super-sleek battle vehicles seen throughout this flick in the pages of the comic books I used to flip through (G.I. Combat, Sgt. Rock, Unknown Soldier, etc.), the toys were so popular from a childhood "me wanty" point-of-view, that hardly anyone even cared about the movie. The idea of a motorcycle that fired rockets was enough to send us into a minor frenzy. Of course, that need soon turned to indifference as another craze quickly came along to take its place. (For me, and don't you dare tell anyone this, that craze turned out to involve acting out the cockpit scene that takes place near the end of the music video for "Church of the Poison Mind" by Culture Club on my couch.)

I was never in the military, nor did I get my hands on any of the toys (I don't think anyone in my peer group did, either), so, why, after all these years, am I watching Megaforce? A film I shunned with extreme prejudice during its initial release. Is it the film's innate camp appeal? Misguided nostalgia? It can't be my love of bearded men who sport headbands. I wonder. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say it's a bit of all those things. Though, to be honest, I think the skintight gold jumpsuits were the film's biggest selling point. I mean, call my gaze overly penetrating, if you must, but I have every single contour of Barry Bostwick's tight ass memorized. Not to brag, but if we were to be shrunken down to size of ants, and set adrift on Barry's hindquarters with shrunken burros as our only mode of transportation, I could get us off that taut, surprisingly hairy mound of skin with my eyes closed.

Bragging about things no-one should ever openly brag about notwithstanding, the other aspect of Megaforce I was able to extract a miniscule amount of pleasure from was its unique approach to sexual relations. If they can't show the bloody aftermath of war, what are the chances they'll show a defective cattle prod arousing a squid-like set of deformed genitals? (Zap my freaky junk, you moist harlot!) Okay, maybe I didn't expect to see anything that swell in terms of unorthodox copulation, but I did expect more than an innocent peck on the cheek. What I got instead was a sort blown kiss combined with a thumbs up. The leader of Megaforce, Ace Hunter (Barry Bostwick), usually standing aboard a large cargo plane, would kiss his thumb and then extend it toward the person he wished to impart the kiss to, in this case, Major Zara (Persis Khambatta), and hold it in the traditional thumbs up position for about five to ten seconds.

The bizarre thumb kissing ritual is the only human element in Megaforce, as the rest of the film is explosions, tanks, dirt, cargo planes, and motorbikes. I almost forgot, Barry and Persis do share a tender moment while skydiving. You see, Persis's character wants to tag along with Megaforce on an important mission (Operation: Hook, Line, and Sinker), but lacks the skills to participate. She tries to rectify this by going through the Megaforce equivalent of basic training; hence, the skydiving sequence. Unfortunately, as Major Zara soon finds out, Megaforce is a sexist organization. Oh, sure, Ace, who had no intention of letting her come along, gives her some phony line about how her presence would upset the delicate balance of his unit. But look around the spacious confines of Megaforce HQ, the place is one gigantic sausage factory.

Anyway, other than the thumb kissing and some mild skydiving intimacy, the film is mostly about the fancy gizmos. Overall, the closest sensation I can come up with to describe the Megaforce experience is to that of being forced to watch a small boy playing with his war toys. While it seems like he's having fun, you, on the other hand, are slowly starting to loose your mind. The repetition, the noise, the nonsensical story, it begins to ware you out after awhile. Let me put this way: The universe Megaforce takes place in is the kind that equates intelligence with the ability to solve a Rubik's Cube in an expedient manner. Actually, I don't know why I felt the need to put that way, as it has nothing really to do with the point I was trying to make.

The story, just in case you were wondering, involves a crusty general (Edward Mulhare), frustrated by Duke Guerera (Henry Silva) a rebel who is causing havoc along the border (I didn't catch the names of the fake countries involved), asks Megaforce, a top secret international rapid response unit, for help. Lead by the headstrong Ace Hunter, and made up from men from around the world, including Suki (Evan C. Kim) from Japan and Dallas (Michael Beck) from the Confederate States of America (his character wears a Confederate flag patch on his Megaforce uniform), the phantom army of super elite fighting men are told to blow up a fuel dump, which they insist on doing by using missiles and laser cannons fired from motorcycles and dune buggies. But their mission is soon complicated by politics. As a result, the highly mobile, gold jumpsuit-encased attack squad find themselves trapped in the desert.

Probably the most likable bad guy in film history, Henry Silva steals Megaforce out from underneath his hapless co-stars with a nonchalant ease. Actually, I feel weird calling Henry's Duke Guerera the "bad guy," as you don't see him actually do anything all that bad. Yeah, the film opens with him destroying a power station with his trusty tanks, but he removed its employees before doing so. You know what? The more I think about it, the more it seems like Megaforce, and not Guerera, are the one's with the sinister agenda. I mean, who are Megaforce? And what gives them the right to decide who's being evil? Those are questions I will never ponder, as I don't really give a shit. But still, it makes you think.

An atypical villain if I ever saw one, Henry Silva gives a truly ebullient performance as Duke Guerera, a wily tank commander who comes off a bold, friendly, and, to be honest, a pretty cool guy compared to those Megaforce clowns. Let's be even more honest, if it weren't for Ace Hunter's saucy blue headband, you be hard pressed to distinguish Megaforce from a bunch of bed-wetting crypto-fascists bent on world domination. When Ace tells Duke: "The good guys always win, even in the '80s," which I'll admit, is pretty amazing as far as one-liners go, it should be a giant red flag to everyone who knows a thing or two about geopolitics. What I'm trying to say is, you should never trust anyone who casts themselves as the "good guys."

While the beautiful Persis Khambetta (Star Trek: The Motion Picture) lights up the screen with her radiant smile as Major Zara, her elegant presence is sorely missed once Operation: Hook, Line, and Sinker gets underway. In terms of narrative momentum, the scene where Ace Hunter explains to Major Zara the reasoning behind his decision to not bring her along is when the film starts to lose its footing (I did like how the scene was shot in silhouette against a purple background). When the focus shifts to faceless battle scenes where no-one is in any real jeopardy, you begin to miss her femininity. I truly believe that it was a mistake to leave her on the sidelines. Of course, I realize this film was being aimed a young boys who still think girls are icky, but most older boys will agree that the film could have used more shots like the one where Persis sits on a rock in an unladylike fashion in a red dress.

Since there's a flying car in The Apple, it only makes sense that Megaforce feature a flying motorcycle. Ridicule this movie all you want, but you have to admit, the flying motorcycle bit near the end was awe-inspiring. I don't know what else to say, Ace Hunter, who finds himself a real uncooperative pickle of a situation, pushes a couple of red buttons, and up, up, up, up he goes! You can almost hear the kids in the audience, the one's lucky enough, or unlucky enough, depending on your viewpoint, to see it when it came out, shouting in the theatre: "Look, daddy, that gay porn star is flying!" (Oh, and when I say, "gay" porn star, I don't mean it in a negative way. It's just that I can't picture a guy named Ace Hunter having heterosexual intercourse with adult women on a semi-regular basis.)

The only instances I can think of where I felt the kind of comradery the members of Megaforce must experience on a daily basis was when I was a Beaver (tiny "Friends of the Forest" who wear brown vests and promote sharing, motherfucker) and the time I was in line for a Nitzer Ebb concert back in, oh, let's say, 1992 (it couldn't have been later because that was the beginning of my rave period). The former is obvious, as we all wore the same uniform. The latter, however, is a little more complicated, in that, I wasn't aware I was wearing a uniform. It all started when some assholes drove by the line up outside the club and yelled a bunch of homophobic slurs mixed with some jabs about funerals and vampires. I thought to myself: Hmmm, clever use alliteration, my blustery, small-minded friend. But then it dawned on me, I was being included in his verbal assault. That's right, his hate-filled words were meant for the crowd in general. My misguided admiration soon turned to mild annoyance as their car sped away. But thanks to their insensitive remarks, I slowly began to realize that I was, in fact, wearing a uniform. It wasn't gold with a zipper down the front, it bore no insignia, it was simply a love for electronic body music, combat boots, and the colour black.

Replacing racial hatred with uniformed homogeneity, and depicting war as a fun-filled lark in the desert, Megaforce is probably the most dangerous, most subversive film to come out of the 1980s. I cringe to ponder what kind of damage it could have done to my psyche had I seen it as an impressionable young person. I don't usually like to end on such an alarmist note, but approach this film with extreme caution.

video uploaded by CarterJBurke

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