In this current Golden Age of “must see” TV, every show, whether it is broadcast online, on cable, or on a traditional network, seems to have staunch supporters offering assurances that you’re missing out if you’re not keeping up. And who has time to watch all of these small screen serials, what with outlets like Netflix regularly delivering content in fat 13-episode chunks?
That’s why you have to appreciate any new series that respects your time enough to reveal everything there is to know before the premiere episode hits its opening credits.
SyFy series “Blood Drive” certainly sets itself up to cleave viewers into two camps. Nose-pinchers may see the gratuitous gore, excessive obscenities, and sleazy sex, and dismiss the show outright as derivatively campy carnage catering to lowest common denominator lasciviousness. Meanwhile, anyone game for the grindhouse gruesomeness and sadistic silliness of the show’s irreverent attitude will find it funny as well as wickedly fun. Luckily, it won’t take more than ten minutes to determine on which side of the line you’ll fall.
It’s the year 1999 and frakking quakes have ripped the world into a lawless wasteland where oil is $2000 a barrel. To compensate, outlaws drive cars whose engines run on human blood. While privatized police forces chase down derelicts stealing water rations from automated machines, devious drivers race in the Blood Drive, a deadly dash into the desert where $10,000,000 awaits the winner, and losers become fodder for fuel.
Smack dab in the center is Arthur, an idealistic cop whose inadvertent exposure of this underground operation finds him captured and compelled to become an unwilling participant. Arthur is forcibly partnered with Grace, who races in hopes of rescuing her sister from a sanitarium. Like everyone else in the race, Arthur and Grace are injected with pulse charges set to explode if they get too far apart, or if oddball master of ceremonies Julian Slink feels like a little spontaneous torture.
In the midst of all this madness, Arthur’s partner Chris is neck deep in a conspiratorial mystery concerning who really controls the Blood Drive. Arthur doesn’t have attention to spare for this bigger picture at the moment, however. His conscientious objection has him insisting that under no circumstances will Grace put anyone in their engine on his watch. That’s going to prove to be a tall order though, since their opponents have no such qualms about who gets brutally butchered or how.
It’s easy to roll eyes at clichéd characterizations like the femme fatale sucking a lollipop with her seductive smile or the Thurston Howell aristocrat paired with a diminutive grease monkey as a partner and part-time lover. That’s the point. “Blood Drive” purposefully pilfers everything salient and stereotypical from 40+ years of good and bad cult cinema, and explodes all of it in a batsh*t crazy blender of exploitation action and over-the-top outrageousness.
“Blood Drive’s” mix of influences ranges everywhere from “Death Race 2000,” “Mad Max,” and “Deadlock” to “Blade Runner,” “From Dusk Till Dawn,” and Hanna-Barbera’s “Wacky Racers.” The amalgamated atmosphere of cartoonish insanity and semi-serious sci-fi inspires infinite possibilities for “it’s like” comparisons and alliterative accolades. For instance, “Blood Drive” is like Roger Corman meets Robert Rodriguez in a blood-soaked orgy of speed, sex, slaughter, and plenty of splatter.
Imaginative production design, art direction, and costumes create audacious atmosphere. It can be undercut by occasional cheapness in how chases are shot or other corners are cut, though that too becomes part of the show’s cheesy charm.
Alienation is understandable for those not tuned into the tone. “Blood Drive” knows the audience it is catering to, and if you’re not part of that demo, the show happily opens exit doors at each commercial break. Options are to either get on board with the gritty goofiness or get left behind. Everyone in that first group itching to snicker and smirk at the show’s humorous horrors can buckle up for a wildly weird ride.
“Backrooms” brings out the buried dread of being unconsciously trapped in an oppressive environment that slowly melts a mind into compliant complacency.