John Carpenter's Escape From L.A.

There are two major warning signs of a director in steep decline. The first is when they remake their own movies. The second is when they remake them badly. John Carpenter's Escape From L.A. is vivid proof of both points. The fact that Carpenter stuck his name into the title even invokes the third warning sign. No wonder this movie has become the current favorite target for the critical equivalent of a drive-by shooting.

Unfortunately, the bad press is amply earned. In its efforts to redo and surpass the original, Escape From L.A. merely succeeds in making Escape From New York look like a masterpiece. Despite the critical beating that it received upon its release in 1981, Escape From New York has managed to achieve a well deserved cult reputation. But the lean and mean B-movie attitude that made the original so exciting has given way in its sequel to a pricey sense of flabbiness.

In Escape From L.A., everything is bigger and flashier than it was before. Everything is also slower and dumber. Snake Plissken (Kurt Russell) is especially inclined to fits of denseness. Once again, the surly futuristic commando-turned-criminal is snatched by the U.S. Police Force and is about to be deported to the Island of Los Angeles (big quake, you know). Likewise, the President (Cliff Robertson) is once again in trouble (it's an occupational hazard). Seems that his bad seed daughter (A.J. Langer) has fled to L.A. to be with her Maoist homeboy lover (George Corraface). Even worse, she has taken with her a black box containing the satellite command codes to one of daddy's favorite secret weapons.

As usual, Plissken is indifferent to the national crisis which in the States should make him a prime presidential candidate). So the head of the U.S. Police Force (Stacy Keach) injects him with a deadly, time-delayed virus as a personal inducement. You would think that old Snake might groan under the weight of so much deja vu in one movie.

As was also the case in the original, Plissken has to deal with a treacherous ally (Steve Buscemi), an ex-partner (Pam Grier in an offbeat tribute to The Crying Game), and a helpful fan (Peter Fonda in a role that should have gone to Dennis Hopper). Completely wasted in minor parts are both Michelle Forbes and Bruce Campbell, though Campbell's freaky turn as the Surgeon General of Beverly Hills provokes a few chilly laughs.

But embarassed giggles will be the audience's main response to Escape From L.A. In between bouts of surprisingly mediocre special effects and lackluster stunt scenes, the movie limps from one dull gag to another. Post-apocalyptic Los Angeles festers with heavily armed gang members and fast talking con artists, which means that LaLaLand is still the same despite the geologic shift. But the movie never goes beyond the obvious and the result plays like a boorishly pushy afternoon in Burbank.

Equally uninspired is the political focus of the film, and Escape From L.A. is intended by Carpenter to be his political statement piece. The President is a right-wing religious zealot who lucked into office when he prophesied the coming of the great quake. His daughter has mistaken puppy love for a liberal cause. In turn, her boyfriend is a Shining Path guerrilla leader planning a Third World invasion against the United States. Plissken is a gun-toting civil libertarian who wants his red meat and cigarette right now, no matter what anybody else thinks.

Maybe this could have been good satire (as was the case in Carpenter's under appreciated production of They Live). But Carpenter would have needed a good screenwriter to pull it off. Since the script to Escape From L.A. was co-authored by the director, the producer, and the star, it's a safe bet that the story was hastily concocted during a power brunch with assorted agents.

Which also means that everybody was too busy making deals instead of a movie. Escape From L.A. appears to have been a quick afterthought jotted down on a few cocktail napkins during a heated discussion about percentage points.