Maximum Overdrive (1986)

“Whole world’s gone tits up.” I know, right? Stephen’s dealer was here like two hours ago and he’s already dry!

Much like the slightly off-center way King attempts to point at his audience in the trailer while ominously (and nasally) intoning “I’m gonna scare the hell outta you!” Maximum Overdrive is like the dented hubcap of a non-possessed Plymouth Fury. Chrome-plated and jaggedly askew. In another filmmaker’s hands, be they experienced or just young and hungry, this might’ve been a tense psychological thriller or a lunatic exercise in automotive smashfesting. Yet in King’s untrained mitts, it becomes a fascinating, sleepy oddity with just enough nutty invention and nuttier performances to put you in b-movie bliss. 

“You sure make love like a hero.” You think Tabby ever said that to Steve? As a lifelong King devotee and someone who's conservatively read around 40% of his massive output, MO is obviously a film from the mind of the author behind Survivor Type, Battleground, and The Mist. His generation was influenced by Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone and one can see that influence in his fascination with isolated humans battling both the elements and the extraordinary. Nobody writes dialogue quite like King and although I’m a North Carolina native and very much appreciate the numerous geographical references he drops, I’m unsure I’ve ever heard anyone say weird shit like “I don’t give a ladybug” or “I can’t get peaturkey!” Regardless, this is King’s interpretation of rednecks and shrieking harlots and if his execution weren’t so surprisingly static, the performances would probably make up for the lags in momentum. “WE MADE YOU!” She literally contorts as she screeches her condemnation. 

Boredom and monotony is tricky to depict onscreen and often arrives in the form of a montage, but much of the desperation and madness these characters experience is supposed to be the direct result of their entrapment by murderous autos. Famously, the rules of King’s conceit don’t add up, particularly the pick-and-choose way certain cars don’t become sentient as well as non-electrical items fighting back. The opening and closing title cards negate one another and I began to consider whether the possession of specific parts, perhaps a branding logo or a hood ornament, might’ve solved that plot hole. The iconic Green Goblin becoming the cosmically powered center of the deadly toy truck might’ve in turn explained why a car without a hood ornament wouldn’t lash out, but whatever.

The mayhem King and his crew dream up is explosive and occasionally ghoulish fun, especially when things get appreciably bloody, but his approach is so mundane that one would expect his self-described “coke haze” might’ve resulted in something more energetic. AC/DC’s rockin’ tunes are appreciated, but King seems to believe the music will fuel the chaos, but it’s often incongruous with the shooting and editing style. It’s not without its flaws, but it’s undeniably singular in its cracked outlook.