Maximum Overdrive

The only movie directed by Stephen King. What if our electronic items turn on us? Do we have any chance? Well, this movie articulates the idea pretty neat. A solid 7 out of 10.

Looked very eighties indeed. Still the actions scenes were great and I liked the simple cinematography. It worked well and didn't become distracting. The non-practical special effects looked very dated and did not stand up to the rest of the movie. The music was rock and that fitted well. The sound effects were convincing enough without being noticeable. What? A story? Comet passes and machines try to kill people. That's it. Totally ludicrous film that has no story but some great car crashes!

Not as incompetent as I was expecting given all the negative reception. King himself thought it was so bad that he vowed to never step behind the camera again, but from a directorial standpoint this isn't put together any worse than the other B-movies that spawned from the author's work. Which, if we're being honest, is what the majority of his adaptations can be classified as. No, the problem is that the movie is too silly and ridiculous for it's own good. Maximum Overdrive is packed to the brim with redneck idioms, immature humor, and crass dialog. I often hear "The Room" talked about in a sort of positive light as apparently it has a "so bad, it's good" quality to it that can be derived from the film's ability to make one laugh at just how dumb it all is. I can't attest to whether or not that is true of the infamous Tommy Wiseau disasterpiece, but it certainly seems to be the case here. It's hard not to find at least some amusement in all the stupidity happening onscreen. Unlike The Room however, it feels like you're laughing with this movie, as opposed to at it. Maximum Overdrive seems very aware of it's own idiocy and plays everything for laughs. I've read that even Stephen King called it a "wonderful moron movie." I don't know about wonderful, but there is some juvenile fun to be had here. Provided you like that kind of thing and can put up with the bad acting. You can certainly feel the author's presence throughout. Not only is the entire soundtrack comprised of AC/DC, his favorite band, but a lot of the personality quirks from his writing are front and center. Like his religious intolerance for example. There's a character in this that exemplifies King's tendency to portray all religious people as hypocrites and bigots. As a result out of all his adaptations this is probably the one that feels the most like one of his written stories. Something that will likely increase it's value in the eyes of his more hardcore fans.

Seems like the '80s blessed us with a million trash bag exploitation movies like this one. Set in a hayseed truck stop on the eve of a week-long comet encounter, whose ensuing green aurora causes various mechanical devices to gain sentience and seek human victims, Maximum Overdrive is an obvious slab of VHS rental bait, sold more on the wacky concept and flashy cover art than the meat of the film itself. Stephen King wrote AND directed, his first (and, so far, only) credit behind the camera, although he was admittedly trapped in a powdery white haze at the time and rumors persist that frequent set visitor George A. Romero actually ghost-directed most of it. All the best parts are of the chunky, gore-wet variety, so the shoe does fit. Overdrive's first half-hour is where it should begin and end; a hilarious stretch of hopelessly idiotic ideas and setups that sent me back to the days of sneaky, low-volume, late-night HBO marathons during my youth. Seven-year-old Sean would've alternately covered his eyes and goggled, dry-mouthed, at scenes depicting an evil soda dispenser, a rampaging steam roller, an electric knife gone rogue or a sinister wall clock, connected to a mangled corpse by way of a long, bloody trail. How did a clock kill somebody? Why did it hang itself back on the hook after it was finished? Such concerns are better left unanswered, I guess, because I still had an awful lot of them when Emilio Estevez and company finally escaped their captivity to kick off the credit roll. AC/DC's accompanying soundtrack is both a hit and a miss; the tunes set this film apart from its contemporaries and lend it a coolness factor that's still fresh thirty-odd years later, but they're also bluntly shoehorned in because King was a fan and have absolutely nothing to do with the proceedings. If you happen to catch it on cable, I suppose there are worse ways to burn a few minutes, but skip the second and third acts. Updated thoughts after a 2024 re-watch: Unforgettably forgettable, particularly in the eyes of writer/director Stephen King, Maximum Overdrive is the kind of trash that could’ve only been borne by a mid ‘80s cocaine binge. The plot was certainly influenced by one verboten cocktail or another. We dive right in with a wordy prologue that explains all about passing comets and sentient machinery - total gibberish, proclaimed with bold emphasis in a bright yellow font - before proceeding directly to the visceral mayhem. Big rigs drive themselves! Electric knives edge toward human flesh! What’s a sexy parolee to do but hole up in a sleazy North Carolina truck stop and wait it all out? The director gets his requisite cameo out of the way in the very first scene, portraying a random dude who’s insulted by a foul-mouthed ATM, and this sets a clear tone for the rest of the film. Or, at least, for the first half-hour. While those opening salvos last, Maximum Overdrive is the best kind of bad. Spewing four letter words like a kid in the back of the school bus, it relishes the sheer idiocy of its own premise. As a soda machine chucks its payload like so many cannonballs and a bicycle bucks its rider into the path of a steamroller, we cheer and stomp for more. The opening act is a barrage of such hilariously off-color ideas, an absolutely marvelous “are you seeing this” joyride, complete with shrill Psycho audio cues and shoddy, chunky special effects. Pity it didn’t end right there. I still wouldn’t have rated it above three stars, but I might’ve endorsed it. By contrast, the remaining time on Overdrive’s clock is a chore. As the demonic eighteen wheelers settle to lazily circling the refugees’ hideout, the film follows suit. Its wicked sense of humor, flashed so often in that establishing chapter, goes out the window. Even AC/DC’s accompanying soundtrack cuts grow less inspired, settling into reverb-heavy chords and aimless noodles. It seems like nobody wanted to stick around for the whole ninety-seven minutes. I didn’t, either.

I didn't know Stephen King directed this film. I was shocked but also I thank God he didn't do it again because this nonsense is one of the worst horror films I've seen in a very long time.