Before I begin, let me clear up one potential point of confusion. There are two prominent Paul Andersons in the film world. There is the good Paul Anderson, the one who directed There Will Be Blood and Magnolia and with whom I looked at naked women in Berlin*. And then there is the bad Paul Anderson, the one who directed Resident Evil and Soldier and a lot of other very bad movies, including the spectacularly bad Death Race. That this Paul Anderson not only continues to have a career and gets such an easy ride from fans completely blows my mind. Put him in a skirt** and make him talk in a German accent and the guy's Uwe Boll all over again. In fact Anderson's arguably even worse than Boll and yet he just keeps going and going and going ...

Anyway. Death Race. AKA the film that just may put an ignoble end to Joan Allen's career. It was a good idea on paper, the idea of both satirizing and exploiting the whole extreme sport thing a pretty compelling one, but it also stopped being a good idea on paper, right about the time that whoever approved this film - Oh, look! It was Tom Cruise! - also allowed Anderson to write the script himself. 'Cause a writer he aint. Hell, a director he aint, really, either. Nor a producer. And yet there he is filling all three roles. Poorly.

What have we got? Cars, guns, cleavage, and Joan Allen talking about shitting on sidewalks. I have learned from this film that anyone capable of catching a wrench dropped from a height several feet above their hand has, and I quote, "Race car reflexes" and is capable of tearing it up on the track. I have learned that men who snap other men's necks in front of a live audience of millions might not be, and again I quote, "Daddy material". I have learned that in a race going backwards is against the general spirit of the thing, and also that, for some reason people racing to the death are generally too sporting to actually use any of the shortcuts that they are all fully aware of. I have learned that girls cast purely for their racks are generally atrocious actors and also that small breasted, generally reliable actresses can also be reduced to utter shite under the correct circumstances.

But, you know, I've forgiven all of these things in the past on condition that the film in question at least delivered on the action and gore front and, sadly, with the exception of two truly remarkable shots the action in Death Raceis critically, unacceptably, boring. A reported eighteen million dollars for two good shots, brutal performances and one of the most wretched scripts I've seen on screen in years? I'd be asking for my money back, Tom.

* True story. We talked about counter top materials for his then-upcoming renovation. I haven't heard whether or not he took my advice. Nice guy.
** Yeah, I don't know what the skirt thing's about, either. It just sort of spilled out and it made me laugh so I kept it.