A deeply ludicrous David Carradine plays Frankenstein, a man into leather cosplay and gimp-like fetishes. He likes to ruin everyone's good time by simply staring at them.
The film takes place in the far-off future of 2000, where people do not listen to Britney Spears or worry about their dot.com ventures. Instead they hang out in bedrooms that double as bowling alleys. The future!
The movie goes full retard in showing us how cars go vroom-vroom. Carradine races in a vroom-vroom motor car and thrills us all with his polite defensive driving skills. There is no Tokyo drifting, however. More like Hiroshima Drift. Amirite?
After being tested for PEDs and Acting (failing both), the racers go vroom-vroom across the nation that is run by a sinister Mr P, who glowers into the middle distance and bores us all with his straining attempts at being dystopian. One of the racers is an intellectual--the George F Will type but with a pink necktie. (These drivers might be tuff guys, but they always wear their safety helmets! Mommy taught them well!)
Frankenstein, true to his moniker, wins the stupidity race, and reporters from the Thrifty Nickel throng to him to ask questions like, "When you pressed down on the pedal did the car go vroom-vroom?" and "Did your GTO-X motor oil help your engine's viscuousity?"
But Frankenstein has no time for such palaver. Tch, he is too busy staring out at the viewer poignantly and begging for release. Just as Mary Shelley envisioned!
Did I say he was ridiculous? Even his undies are excessively sexy.
Meanwhile, a reporter who is dressed in the latest cutting-edge fashions of 2000, heckles the viewer for being dumb enough to watch this movie. Finally someone who is fair and balanced!
The credits roll. Next up: Rockford Files! Followed by The Captain & Tennille Variety Hour! The 2000s are going to be AWESOME!!!
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