Hardware

Dystopian desert scavengers unearth the remains of a beaten-up hunter droid and drag it, in pieces, back to civilization. There, the skull-faced deathbot is incorporated into an artist's canvas and accidentally re-activated, whereupon he initiates a self-repair protocol and indiscriminately slaughters anyone within reach. This whole thing is a loud, brazen chunk of flimsy punk rock chaos. Everything looks cool on the surface, but like the grim, edgy anti-hero comic books that were flooding the scene at the time, Hardware's interests really begin and end with its aesthetic. It lobs a few flailing attempts at a broad moral framework, something about class warfare and an out-of-touch government, but those gestures are cursory at best and extremely simplistic. This is a B-grade killer robot movie from 1990, and everything that statement might imply is probably true. Its special effects, while inspired, are cripplingly low-budget and often marred by smoke, quick cuts or strobe effects. The script is loaded with groan-worthy dialogue and spacious plot holes, not to mention something like seven fake-out endings. I'm not convinced any of the actors had worked in film before. Well, except maybe Iggy Pop and Lemmy from Motörhead, who randomly lean in for a pair of brief, grinning, charismatic cameos before departing for good. This is just objectively not-good, even in the areas where one might hope it would shine. Cult-friendly as hell, though, which explains its lasting (if limited) appeal. If neon-drenched, softcore sex scenes and abrupt, grotesque deaths are your jam, Hardware has got you covered. For about thirty minutes. Skip the rest.