Friday, 5 October 2012

Friday Night Film: Rain Of Fire

He's pleased with that.

'Rain Of Fire' (also known as 'Holocaust 2000') is a right load of crap, the sort of cheap, contintental rubbish that waning star Kirk Douglas was forced to make in the seventies in order to still feel important. Don't get me wrong, I think Kirk is great and some of his films are INCREDIBLE but, as I understand it, he was always a massive arsehole* (just watch, he'll probably die now and I'll be arrested for being an internet troll).

Trendy Asylum.

'Yes, of course I'm genuinely attracted to you. I swear it on this dog's life'.

Baby featured NOT Michael Douglas.

Anyway, trashy and crass it may be but 'Holocaust 2000' has enough crazy shit going for it to be a suitable candidate for the FNF slot, especially as I did actually once see half of it one real Friday night and began to wonder whether I was having a nervous breakdown. An unholy (clever!) mix of 'The Omen'and and, well, 'The Omen 2', Douglas plays to his strengths by portraying a mega-rich, genius industrialist who makes girls half his age pregnant, travels everywhere by helicopter and is obsessed with building a seven headed, ten horned monster, sorry, nuclear power plant in the Holy Land despite warnings that he is about to trigger the end of the world.

The Beast.

'If only I knew what 2V231 meant'.

It's a look.

My eyes!

'Nope, I'm just not getting it'.

I don't know what's funnier about this film, the overtly funny bits (Kirk stark bollock naked in a psychedelic wasteland / dreamscape; him beating up thirty psychotic lunatics; his swaggering sexuality and massive cartoon face) or the bits that are supposed to be meaningful and give the audience a pointer as to where this is all heading. Any reasonably with it person can see through the whole plot approximately five minutes in but, perhaps in denial, they keep chucking clues at you until you feel like shouting 'yes, I get it, 2V231 looks like  'Jesus' in mirror writing, now please, please just leave me alone'.



I bet that comes keen.

'Louche? Moi?'

Kirk kicks off.

There's plenty of death - a stabbing, a decapitation, a bisection, a bizarre asylum that looks more like the changing rooms at 'Top Shop' and, in Simon Ward, one of the laziest looking anti-christs of all time. Infuriatingly, after they've dragged it all out for eighty minutes and you start to you feel you're getting somewhere it all stops dead with a big anti-climax, seemingly awaiting a sequel that never materialised. Then the recriminations begin, and you start to think about what else you could have done over the last hour and a half. In my case, however, I'd have just watched some other piece of cinematic oddness / ordure. You know what? That's the way I like it, so next time you're out paragliding or bodysurfing or whatever the fudge it is you do to feel unusual and alive, pop a wheelie or something for me, because I'll be stuck inside with the curtains pulled across watching a load of shit on my big telly. Hurrah!

* Martin Amis worked with Douglas on sci fi shit cake 'Saturn 3' and later satirised him in 'Money' as ridiculous movie idol and spiteful egomaniac Lorne Guyland, a sixty year old man who permanently wears a track suit and likes people to think he's fucking his much younger co-stars ('I mean really fucking them').  


1 comment:

  1. I knew I hadn't imagined this! or how bad it was...