Hell's Bells: Stephen King's Maximum Overdrive

 Lately, out of nostalgia or perhaps it's just a lazy summer vibe, my household has been on a B-grade 80s horror kick: Hack o'Lantern (more interesting than it sounds, especially when factoring in Hy Pyke's memorable performance), Blood Theatre (with the wonderful scowl of Mary Waranov in all its glory and a few surrealist moments that are a pleasant surprise), FrankenHooker (probably not what Mary Wollstonecraft would have imagined in tribute to her daughter Mary Shelly's literary talent, but it was good for a few laughs and even features a twist ending that takes a turn towards the feminist). 

In a similar vein, albeit a tad less trashy and boasting a higher budget, Stephen King's directorial debut Maximum Overdrive (1986) inspired tonight's post. While this feature flopped at the box office and was labelled a "moron movie" by the director himself, King's only effort at filmmaking conveys a number of themes dear to the author, resulting in a compelling narrative and what one has to respect as downright progressive regarding gender, class, and ecology, among others.

Driving Hell's Bells

American monsters

 Loosely based on King's short story Trucks (found in the Night Shift collection), Maximum Overdrive is a tale of machines gone rogue that begins as a dystopian nightmare and by its conclusion, has morphed into a utopic vision of collectivity (apparently America hates this last word so much, Blogger tried to persuade me that it doesn't exist, but mercifully, Miriam Webster is happy to tell you otherwise). While the film features motorized appliances, weapons, and vehicles that have become autonomous, unleashing a relentless cycle of violence on humans, the bulk of the action is reserved for big rig trucks who encircle the "Dixie Boy Truck Stop", a not so subtle dig at the film's conservative southern setting. Similarly, King's penchant for mocking religion is in full form, as a bible salesman attempts to molest a female hitchhiker named Brett. Later his case of bibles is crushed flat by a big rig whose front bumper is adorned with a giant devil head. ACDC provides the soundtrack, and "Hell's Bells" features prominently at multiple intervals throughout the film.

Setting similar to a Western.

The Monster(s) We Created

The film opens with a cameo of King as he approaches an ATM machine to make a cash withdrawal.  The bank's electronic sign flashes "Fuck you", while the ATM screen reads "You're an asshole".  This first scene feels like something out of John Carpenter's They Live (1988), although in this case, the message isn't subliminal. King's character is outraged by the impudence of the bank's machinery, just as the truck stop employees too will voice their feelings of betrayal at machines "we built". In a scene from The Rocky Horror Picture Show Dr. Frank-N-Furter (Tim Curry) threatens his creature, "I made you and I can break you just as easily". The majority of the human characters in Maximum Overdrive all seem to experience this sentiment throughout various moments of the film, bucking at the ill behavior of humanity's inventions, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of trucks and other machines that dominate their surroundings, a barren landscape with little greenery. In a time when the ozone layer was a concern, but talk of global warming hadn't yet reached a crescendo, the film's setting provides multiple opportunities to contemplate the environmental impact of these Diesel guzzling monsters and the highways that cut across the few small patches of greenery visible on screen.

Union(izing)

As the violence intensifies, the film's small group of individuals thrown together by circumstance begin to form a collective, gradually solidifying a new makeshift community. Prior to this outbreak of machine-led mania, Bill (Emilio Estevez) is working at the Dixie Boy Truck Stop where his boss, the wealthy good old boy named Bubba (played by Clint Eastwood's pal Pat Hingle), takes advantage of his employees by forcing them to work an extra hour each shift without pay. Incensed by the injustice of this, Bill's anger is interrupted when his fellow server is attacked by a kitchen appliance. Eventually, like the sleazy bible salesman, Bubba receives his comeuppance on multiple occasions, not least of which includes dying due to his lack of diplomacy with the rogue vehicles, but not before he is slapped by the feminist character of Brett (Laura Harrington ) who gives him a good telling off for another diplomatic rift.

As the film's central protagonists, Bill and Brett inject a dose of both rationality and humanity to what at first is a fragmented, "every man for himself" hub of trucks and visitors who all come and go at their own will individually. Bill and Brett coordinate a number of collaborative rescue missions, look after the fatherless child Deke (Holter Graham of Hairspray fame), and eventually inspire the utopic voyage by sailboat to a pedestrian island named Haven (also the fictional town where the television adaptation of King's The Colorado King is set) that they hope will provide sanctuary from killer vehicles. The film ends on an uplifting note, as the survivors ban together to sail away like pilgrims towards a promised land. A post-script informs the viewer that they did indeed remain survivors.

In Hindsight

Compared to the range of 80s films I've viewed recently, I'm struck by King's dedication to the principles that resurface regularly in his books. While contemporary television and film casting continue to improve in terms of writing roles for women and people of color (King's film falls short of the mark on this last point, though he does feature several African Americans in the film's small cast and while their roles are not terribly significant, the viewer is aware that the local population is mixed, in contrast to the many whitewashed films I've viewed from the same decade), his characters, particularly two female roles, are refreshing for films of the time. Fiercely independent and confident, Brett, for example, initiates a consensual romance with Bill, defends herself against both man and machine, and plays a leading role in the collective identity of the group. Also of key importance, Bill is portrayed as Brett's equal who respects her input, seeks her consent, etc. The other female lead, Connie (Yeardley Smith, better known as the voice of Lisa Simpson), provides the comic relief, instead of existing as a romantic ingenue. Neither female character is exploited visually or thematically, which seems to be a rare feat for a male director to accomplish even by today's standards. Of course, one only needs to follow Stephen King's tweets or read several of the author's novels to understand the extent of his commitment to social and gender equality, among others (the Trump jokes and digs at religion are a bonus!).  Finally, although most viewers will likely describe the film as mediocre in terms of its visual impact, King's script is a powerful metaphor on several levels, not least of which is the film's emphasis on America's problematic car culture and lack of collective infrastructure.

Bonus: