Rage against the machines. Campy, drugged up fun that feels like it exists in some sort of wildly weird Alex Cox wasteland.
King’s lone directorial credit—a cocaine fueled ‘inanimate machines come to life and turn homicidal’ absurdity jam is really something else. ATM ‘asshole’, nose picking card player, John Landisesque bridge insanity, watermelons, diesel to the eyes, electronic meat cutter mayhem, soda vending machine massacre, steamrolled little leaguers, renegade lawnmower, people smashed with pickup trucks, blood all over the place, fucking bazookas, and an insane amount of over the top explosions.
I can’t believe I used to have this fun, ridiculous adaptation of Trucks that feels akin to some bizarro world version of The Mist rated so low, I kinda love it now.