Last night I watched Cherry 2000, a film in which actors who can't act team up with scriptwriters who can't write, and do battle with one another with guns made of plastic in sets made of cardboard.
The plot, which is almost entirely superfluous, involves a guy whose robot girlfriend breaks travelling into a post-apocalyptic wasteland with a tracker who looks like Melanie Griffith (conveniently acted by Melanie Griffith) to find another robot girlfriend. In the end he settles for the tracker who looks like Melanie Griffith, but it's a close call. Those points in the plot that call for dramatic motifs and plot development are largely subsituted for by sexual innuendo and schoolboy jokes: "Travel to a bar called Glory Hole... you'll find a tracker called Johnson..."
In the end, I rather enjoyed it. The script had an undeceptive simplicity to it - you might say it was full of hidden surfaces.
(Car falls into the water)
JOHNSON: I hope you can swim.
TREADWELL: Don't you think it's a little late for that?
FEMINISM AND PATRIARCHY!
HE: Make some sandwiches.
HE: Well I'll just go and shit in my hat.
Cherry 2000. An excellent film to watch if you're not watching any other film.
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