BY TIM GREAVES
Dead-End
Drive-In was shot in Sydney, Australia in 1986 by English-born Brian
Trenchard-Smith. One of the most significant sparks in Ozploitation cinema
during the 70s and 80s, the director’s renown stems predominantly from his
knack for turning relatively scant budgets into expensive looking pictures with
sharp teeth and blistering attitude. Set in the (then) near future – which is now
some quarter of a century in the past – the film ushers its audience into the
midst of a society that's gone to hell in a handcart; the economy has collapsed,
food is in short supply, unemployment is rife...the latest movie blockbuster is
Sylvester Stallone's Rambo 8: Rambo Takes
Russia! Welcome to a garish neon-lit nightmare, awash with Day-Glo
graffiti, where looters and violent wastrels rule the night, cruising in
souped-up stock cars, exploiting the impotence of the authorities and leaving a
trail of mayhem and destruction in their wake.
One evening Jimmy 'Crabs’
Rossinni (Ned Manning) takes his girlfriend Carmen (Natalie McCurry) to a movie
at the local Star Drive-In theatre. Claiming to be unemployed at the gate in
order to score tickets on the cheap proves to be a big mistake. While Jimmy and
Carmen are making out on the back seat of the car, someone absconds with a
couple of their wheels and they find themselves stuck there for the night. With
the dawn comes the revelation of the establishment's true purpose and the awful
realisation of the gravity of their situation; they have been deliberately confined
in an electric-fence-ringed prison, a hovel where the Government incarcerates
the unemployed populace. Patrolled by police, it's practically a self-contained
township where the inmates are supplied with copious junk food, beer and music
and are thus more than content to stay put, captivity being a preferable
alternative to the starvation and certain death they’d face out on the streets.
Carmen, having fled her home and being something of a loner by nature,
immediately begins to fit in. But Jimmy is determined to escape, no matter the
cost.
Tautly directed by
Trenchard-Smith from a Peter Smalley script, fans of vehicular mayhem are
certainly well catered for with Dead-End
Drive-In, especially during an 11th hour chase around the Star’s parking
lot and a spectacular climactic stunt; one imagines that a fair old chunk of
the budget was expended on that alone. But although it all ends on a note of
hope and a truly grand amen, the movie as a whole makes for pretty bleak
viewing (which, to be fair, is a common denominator in most films that envisage
a dystopian future). With its cast of bizarre and feral characters and distinctive
lensed-in-the-80s vibe, Dead-End Drive-In
sits comfortably alongside the era’s top end Troma product (which, I hasten to
add, is intended as a compliment), and there's some amusement to be had in that
the films beaming out of the Star's projection bunker include a couple of
Trenchard-Smith's earlier Ozploitationers, 1982's Turkey Shoot and (this writer's pick from the director’s CV) the cracking
1975 actioner The Man from Hong Kong.
Ned Manning doesn't make for
the likeliest hero figure, yet although he’s scrawny to the point that even his
mother puts him down, he ably steps up to the plate when the moment comes. As
his girlfriend Carmen, Natalie McCurry is gorgeousness incarnate; crowned Miss
Australia in 1989, the actress tragically passed away in 2014 at the age of
just 48. The real scene stealer here, however, is smooth-talking Peter Whitford
as the Star's sly manager, Thompson, who befriends Jimmy but ultimately turns
out to be far from the amiable soul he first appears.
Light on narrative
development but heavy on sleazy atmosphere and flashy action, viewers who like
their post-apocalyptic movies rough around the edges and teeming with
quirkiness are sure to get a rapid-fire buzz from Dead End Drive-In.
The film arrives on Blu-ray
in the UK from Arrow and it’s a worthy upgrade of their DVD release, which appeared
three years ago. A brand new 2K restoration using the original film elements, the
transfer is very impressive indeed with only occasional traces of vertical
scratching in evidence. The deal sweeteners comprise a commentary from the
always interesting Trenchard-Smith, the director’s 1973 TV documentary “The Stuntmenâ€
(49m), his disturbing 1978 public information film about the dangers of hospital
patients sneaking an illicit cigarette – “Hospitals Don't Burn Down†(24m) –
plus an original release trailer and a short gallery of still images (intercut
with textual information) depicting graffiti art created for the film by
Vladimir Cherepanoff.
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