2020 Texas Gladiators (1982)

The Rangers (Nisus [pronounced “Nexus,” played by Al Cliver], Halakron [Peter Hooten], Jab [Harrison Muller, Jr], Catch Dog [Daniel Stephen], and Red Wolfe Al Yamanouchi]) wander post-atomic-war Texas with only one mission in mind: kill all the bad people who (we assume) have only just sprung up after the bombs dropped.  In the wake of wasting some savages (and failing to save the priest and nuns they were attacking), they find the lovely, half-naked Maida (Sabrina Siani), whom Catch Dog tries to rape, but winds up getting himself ousted from the group for it instead.  Once Nisus and Maida settle down in a peaceful community, it’s only a question of time until guys like The Black One (Donald O’Brien) show up (Catch Dog in tow) to cause trouble and wreak havoc.

Being set in Texas, it comes as little surprise that Joe D’Amato’s 2020 Texas Gladiators (aka Anno 2020 I Gladiatori Del Futuro, aka 2020 Freedom Fighters) borrows heavily from the Western genre.  It begins with a posse of hardasses cleaning up the territory.  Nisus joins a peaceful community who produce petrol (I’m pretty sure), and come off like agrarian homesteaders (substitute gas for vegetables).  This community is set upon by a ruthless gang, which can be seen as simply desperadoes or (I thought) as Native Americans on the warpath, which was the first thing that sprang to my mind while watching the initial assault.  There are also actual Native Americans (though I’m almost positive that none of them were played by Native Americans) who ride horses, shoot arrows, and live in teepees.  There is a saloon/brothel where men play Russian Roulette for money (the champion of which seems to fail to realize that his winning streak is luck, not skill), and video games and sloppy joes occupy folks’ time and whatever passes for money.  Our heroes are even sentenced to time in a salt mine at one point.    

The Post-Apocalyptic subgenre fits very well with the Western, because they share themes.  They both deal with the struggle against barbarism, but here the external forces of this are not Native Americans, as they typically are in Westerns, but fascists (something with which Italians are very much familiar).  In fact, the Native Americans are good guys, and this is one of those things that Italian films do regularly (with varying degrees of effectiveness): completely subvert generic expectations (I mean, the Native Americans still have a trial by combat of sorts with the Rangers, but still…).  

Likewise, these two genres are about the meaning of civilization itself, often rooted in its creation in the face of lawlessness and savagery.  In Westerns, small towns are built and strive to survive in areas where civilization (as we now think of it) didn’t exist, bringing civilization to the wilderness (for better or worse).  The same applies to Post-Apocalyptic films, where there are frequently collectives endeavoring to rebuild civilization under extremely inhospitable conditions.  In both, the underlying idea remains the same.  The difference lies in the direction from which civilization is coming to the wild.  In Westerns, the land is pre-civilized, and in Post-Apocalyptic stories, it’s post-civilized.  Consequently, both also bear notions that perhaps civilization is more destructive than it is beneficial (although this was certainly not a predominant theme with Westerns up until about the Sixties, it has been a constant theme in them from then on).  The Rangers, after all, are extremely adept at killing people, and they are merciless in what they view as a cleaning up of post-society’s dregs.

2020 also deals with concepts of violence, but the way it does so can be seen as contradictory.  As stated, the Rangers believe in killing all the people they deem bad (Halakron states, “Let’s make sure nobody’s left alive”).  Even after Nisus goes all peacenik, turning away from his violent past, he and his neighbors still have plenty of guns to defend themselves, and there is barbed wire fencing around the perimeter of their town.  For all the preaching about killing that Maida does (“A man who kills a killer is a killer”), she doesn’t shy away from swinging around a shotgun, either.  Nisus intentionally shoots someone in order to piss off one of the marauders.  An old lady begs for her young son (grandson?) to be left alone, but he’s raped in front of her, and later on she takes bloody vengeance.  After Jab wrestles with a Native American and wins, the Native Americans claim that the Rangers’ “cause must be just.”  The film’s surface philosophy is that violence is no good, and yet, it disproves this idea over and over again by having its characters prevail through violence.  Moreover, the film states that a non-violent lifestyle is doomed to failure, and only invites trouble from people for whom violence comes easy.  If Nisus hadn’t given up his life with the Rangers, none of the bad stuff that happens to him would have occurred.  This film posits peace through violence (make no mistake, this as common as air for motifs in this type of film), but the incongruities in its ideologies gives it a rather bleak tone, because violence in this world is ineluctable.  This is (to my mind) reinforced by the cryptic line, “From now on, it’ll be like it was before.”  If “before” is what got them to this point, perhaps alternate paths should be investigated.

The odd grimness of the film is bolstered by D’Amato’s (and possibly uncredited co-director George Eastman’s) connate penchant for nastiness (he did, after all, give us the necrophilic sleazefest Beyond the Darkness amongst others, while Eastman, primarily recognized for his acting, did direct some skanky fare like Dog Lay Afternoon).  In the opening moments, a priest is nailed to a cross, one nun is raped, and another cuts her own throat in despair with a sliver of glass.  Maida is introduced to us with one breast hanging out of her dress, and she makes no effort to cover herself up, though she has terror in her eyes (she knows what Catch Dog is thinking, and the way it’s shot, we’re meant to think the same).  There are at least three rapes (all surprisingly offscreen) and one attempted rape.  There are numerous closeups of gore effects to highlight just how vicious the violence in the film is, they approach Horror film levels of graphic detail.  As with its disparate philosophies, however, these seedier elements work quite well with its more traditional action beats, making 2020 a stand out in the subgenre and certainly a unique viewing experience.

MVT:  There is a great amount of energy in the film, and the pacing never lags, so that even if you notice things that don’t seem to fit, there are already three other things happening that will carry you along and away from the distractions.

Make or Break:  The opening set piece is simultaneously skeevy and satisfying, and it sets the film’s peculiar tone handily.

Score:  6.75/10     

Endgame (1983)

I’m not competitive by nature.  I never have been.  Even the times I have played sports, I really couldn’t have given a crap whether or not my team won.  Maybe that’s why we so rarely did.  I always tried to have a sense of good sportsmanship regardless of wins or losses.  I have noticed, however, that this isn’t the predominant disposition (or it is the one given the least attention in the press and so on).  I can’t fathom being reduced to a teeth-gnashing, froth-mouthed ball of rage with regards to overpaid  grown men who are more adept at running, throwing, hitting, kicking, whatever than others.  Am I being a little reductive about this?  Yes, I am, but all I have is my own experiences and observations, so read that however you find comforting. 

I don’t think this applies to all athletes or sports fans, obviously.  Nothing applies across the board when it comes to personalities, and there are people who treat games with the proper level of seriousness they deserve.  But this isn’t what we’re shown on television and in newspapers (what are those?).  We’re shown the absolute worst in human nature with the fans that beat up the fans of the opposing team.  We’re shown the riots that break out after the home team wins or loses a big game.  Naturally, this implicates the media, and they are deserving of some of the blame, no doubt.  It’s only when they have space or need to fill a couple minutes on a slow news night that we hear about the players or fans who do good things like visit children in hospitals, raise money for charities, and so forth.  What was my point again?  Oh, yeah.  I’d have probably been killed in the first episode of the titular Endgame depicted in Joe D’Amato’s film.  Then again, maybe I’d have become as skilled at it as Karnak (George Eastman, whose vest I would like to have).  But it’s doubtful.

In the year 2025, after the big nuclear holocaust everyone expected to happen back in the Eighties actually did, the human population have taken to losing themselves in a television show titled Endgame which depicts people hunting and killing each other and taking Life Plus energy tablets (which have the stench of Soylent Green about them).  Tops in the game is Ron Shannon (Al Cliver), who recently defeated erstwhile buddy and fellow player Karnak.  Shannon is offered lots and lots of gold by Lilith (Laura Gemser) to deliver some mutants (including the young Tommy [Christopher Walsh] who is suggested to be a little more important than the others) to a designated spot in the wastelands by December 25th.  Being the callous, shallow prick he is, Shannon agrees and assembles his team.

The first part of the film (and surprisingly enough, only a short portion of it) is concerned with the games.  Coming four year before The Running Man (the film, not the novella), this blocks out the basics of that film on the budget of a cup of espresso.  You have the colorful characters that have to be defeated, each with a refined skill set (one has swift reflexes, one is George Eastman, and so on).  They are personality-less, but that’s okay, because we only need to deal with them on a very surface/spectacle level.  It mirrors video games, where you battle through each level and have to beat a Level Boss who has unique powers/patterns of behavior.  What is important is that they look visually interesting (and they mostly do here) and that they die well (or are simply defeated).  The same applies to the team Shannon gathers to assist him in his trek, which consists of a strongman, a martial artist, a one-eyed gunslinger, etcetera.  

Of course, also like Paul Michael Glaser’s film, we have the commentary on consumerism and on the television culture which has all but overtaken modern society (and if they had the internet back when this film was produced in 1983, it could have been really interesting).  This isn’t new by any stretch, but I find humanity’s endless capacity to indulge their morbid curiosity to be one of the more fascinating themes in art.  Thus, these aspects appealed to me on a gut level.  We also get the idea of revolutionaries (or in this case, mutants) who are working against their oppressive society to be free, although here, their goal is freedom from persecution rather than the exposure of any of the government’s dirty dealings and such.

This persecution is very clearly delineated in the film as being racial.  The mutants are a stand-in for the Jews, and the military troops are bluntly dressed as Nazi stormtroopers, right down to the “SS” insignia on their uniforms (though here it stands for “Security Services;” oh so clever).  Oddly, Colonel Morgan (Gordon Mitchell) is dressed more like a Soviet Russian officer, so it mixes its tyrants, but I suppose you can’t have it all.  The quest away from discrimination can also be viewed from a biblical perspective, with Shannon playing Moses leading the Hebrews out of Egypt.  Tommy, then, is an analog for Jesus Christ, though when he uses his powers it is interestingly for mass destruction rather than peace (though you could argue just as hard that this destruction is the only way they can find it).  If you like, you can read that last statement as religion (specifically Christianity) on the whole, but either way, the religious aspects to the film are unmistakable.  

Nonetheless, since this is an Italian genre film, the waters have to be muddied just enough give the viewer pause.  Consequently, we get the other mutants, the ones who have been living in the badlands.  These are physically deformed to look like mermen, apemen, and the like.  They also behave more like Lord Humungus’s raiding hordes from The Road Warrior than they do like the nice mutants here.  This distinction is important, because it draws a line between good mutants and bad, and the line is limned in appearances.  Were the bad mutants not ugly to behold, would they be bad guys?  Most likely not, but you never can tell.  Yet this shows a certain shallowness (yeah, I know) in the story.  We can infer that they have to act this way in order to survive in the hostile environment into which they were born, but that there is no sense that there could ever be solidarity between the ugly and normal mutants struck me as odd.  Like its mutant characters, the film is a hodgepodge, and it meanders about quite a bit, and it is contrived as all hell, but it’s never boring, and, in fact, is a downright blast for much of the runtime.  That goes a long way in smoothing over some of the more painful moments.

MVT:  Eastman commands every scene he’s in, which is half due to his imposing, six-foot, nine-inch presence and half due his acting opposite Cliver, one of the least emotive men in Italian cinema (though he still has a charisma all his own somehow).  And did I mention that I really, really, REALLY want his vest from this movie?

Make Or Break:  The game show opening to the film is everything you could want in a Pasta-pocalypse film and then some.  You have improbable violence.  You have even more improbable, KISS-inspired facial makeup.  You have decimated locales.  You have the greatest leather vest in the history of cinema.  There’s really nothing here about which one can complain.

Score:  7.5/10