Rarely do the aesthetics governing good movies apply to bad movies. Bad movies have their own array of rules. Bad movies attract us with their utter hokum. Sometimes, under the right conditions, the artifice of a bad movie can be beguiling. Far-fetched, kitschy, gore-soaked schlock like "Sweet Karma" director Andrew Thomas Hunt's preposterous gladiatorial grindhouse outing "Spare Parts," evokes memories of drive-in movies of yore. Mind you, little in this low-budget fighting femmes fracas is remotely realistic. Of course, plausibility would undermine such an outlandish premise. These predictable potboilers rely on material both audacious and salacious. Remember, Oscar-winning director Peter Jackson launched his cinematic career with outrageous raunch like "Bad Taste" (1987) "Meet the Feebles" (1989) and "Dead Alive" (1992) before he stunned audiences with his "Lord of the Rings" and "Hobbit" trilogies. Meantime, Hunt and "Colony" scenarist Svet Rouskov with David Murdoch have must ogled movies which objectified women, such as "Planet Terror" (2007), "The Machine Girl (2008), "Mad Max: Fury Road" (2015), "The Bad Batch" (2016), and "Kiss Kiss" (2019). Surprisingly, Hunt orchestrates his larger-than-life heroics with feminist ideology, while Rouskov & Murdoch skimp on details about the depraved Emperor and his patriarchy. The Emperor recites Roman gladiatorial chants with Biblical reverence. The premise that the Emperor could cover-up mortal combat in mainstream America strains credibility. Nobody could hush-up such a notorious enterprise, especially since people are maimed and killed. Although the characters are stereotypical, the cast enlivens them with their vivacity. Rather than ridicule itself like most spoofs, "Spare Parts" takes itself seriously and delivers a metaphorical tale about the trials and tribulations of women in America.
"Spare Parts" opens in a sprawling junkyard as a weary young woman, Lea (Kathryn Kohut), trundles a wheelbarrow up to a metal building. A hulking brute dumps a load of amputated arms into it. Director Andrew Thomas Hunt shifts from the image of severed limbs to an extreme close-up of a screeching singer, Amy (Michelle Argyris), in a ramshackle biker bar called The Rusty Chicken. Amy is the lead singer for Ms. 45, an all-girl punk rock band. A drunken biker, Earl (Kevan Kase of "Kick Ass 2"), storms the stage. Amy smashes Earl in the face with her elbow after he gropes her. Later, she hurls her microphone at this pathetic example of masculinity, so it that bounds off his face and back into her hands. Nevertheless, the irate biker refuses to back down. Abruptly, second singer & guitarist, Emma (Emily Alatalo of "Bounty Hunters"), boots Earl in his brovaries. Indeed, these dames adore a good donnybrook. Meantime, a riot has erupted in The Rusty Chicken, and the harried proprietor wields a shotgun to discourage it.
After the concert, Ms. 45's guitarist, Jill (Chelsea Muirhead), heralds news about her pregnancy via a sperm donor and celebrates with the group's lesbian drummer. During their on-stage brannigan, a lunatic skinhead, Sam (Jason Rouse), cheers the band's pugnacity. Later, Sam harasses them on the highway, recklessly ramming them with his Corvette. Ultimately, Sam forces them off the road. The band runs over a 'road gator,' a belt of spikes likely deployed by Sam, and they have a flat. The county sheriff (Lewis Hodgson of "Night Cries") arrives promptly with a wrecker and gives them a ride to the garage. Little do our heroines suspect the sheriff is in cahoots with Sam. Before these gals realize it, they have been gassed, and the Emperor's Doctor (Erin Noble of "Class of 1984") has amputated each's right forearm. When Amy awakens, she is aghast at the sight of her missing limb. Consoling the troubled girl with a smile, the Doctor explains, "You have been chosen to appease the gods."
After our heroines recover, they are garbed in sexy leather outfits and forced to 'fight or die.' Although their forearms are gone, they have been replaced with deadly metal prosthetic weapons. Now, each girl sports different armament, such as a hammer, an axe, or a machete, etc. The Emperor (Julian Richings of "Cube"), who presides over these savage matches, welcomes them to 'the Grid-iron,' and an excited crowd cheers as the gals await their first taste of combat. Before this clash commences, our heroines insist the Emperor exempt their pregnant cohort Jill from the fighting. The Emperor acquiesces gladly to their demands. Afterward, the dastard displays a small jar with Jill's tiny fetus. This staggering revelation epitomizes the Emperor's misogynistic mentality. Predictably, despite their lack of familiarity with their new weaponry, the girls carve up their first eight opponents. Predictably, Jill doesn't make the cut. Nevertheless, the Emperor congratulates the three survivors on their victory. Meanwhile, the Emperor's son Sam singles out Emma and treats her as his trophy queen. Comparably, Amy and Cassey (Kiriana Stanton of "H1-KA"), the lesbian drummer languish, under appalling conditions. This unfair treatment fuels the age-old rage between Emma and Amy. Ironically, Cassey discovers affection in the brawny arms of an African American strongman, Driller (Ryan Allen of "Get Rich or Die Tryin'"), who serves as their combat coach. Setting aside their rivalry, not only do Emma and Amy slaughter their adversaries before raucous crowds but they also secretly plot their inevitable revolt.
Authenticity can enhance credibility even in a second-rate movie. The recycling center, where the exteriors were lensed, makes a terrific locale for the Emperor's life & death gladiatorial tourneys. This real-life, grungy wasteland of crushed vehicles, scrap-iron, and tires galore conjures up a tangible sense of atmosphere and spectacle. Julian Richings revels in his role as the sadistic Emperor. Director Andrew Thomas Hunt rarely indulges in lame comic relief and treats everything with atypical sobriety, particularly the treacherous father & son relationship between the Emperor and Sam. After losing their forearms, these femmes refuse to grovel and turn adversity into victory. Not only does "Spare Parts" qualify as an indictment of patriarchy with its body modification narrative, but it also emerges as a feminist manifesto based on its' surprise ending.
4 out of 11 found this helpful.
Was this review helpful? Sign in to vote.
Permalink
