I should have loved this one. It’s one of those weird movies that hovers on the line between stupidity and brilliance—the two are sometimes really close together, as the best sort of satire always proves—meaning that you either are gonna hate it or love it, allowing little room for anything in-between. I tend to love the stuff. Movies like RUBBER and THE DEAD DON’T DIE (the former is a far better film than the latter) that put a lot of folks off generally appeal to me. So it was with BLOOD CAR—for about 75% of the movie. Then it fell apart. When working with such a combustible concoction as this, a deft hand is required. Director and co-writer Alex Orr’s hands were a tad slippery, and he failed to keep BLOOD CAR between the ditches.
The premise: in the near future, gasoline has become so rare that almost no one drives or owns a car. A geeky kindergarten teacher invents an engine that runs not on gasoline but on human blood, and becomes the Seymour Krelborn to the car’s Audrey II, except that the car doesn’t talk and the inventor’s motivation is to get laid (which is, I suppose some might argue, also Seymour’s motivation in LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, but with the latter there’s more to it than that.) Anyway, what should have been a kooky romp all of a sudden gets dark, way dark, and the shift in tone is akin to shifting from fourth gear into park—while driving. That sound you can imagine hearing right now? That’s the best metaphor for this movie. It dropped from a solid A down to a C+ almost instantaneously. In other words, BLOOD CAR ends up wrapped around a telephone pole.