Review by Mordicai

 

Of greater concern than the Russian nuclear menace of the 80’s was the proliferation of Mad Max ripoffs, a multinational threat that almost destroyed modern society as we know it. It’s hard to stand out as pedestrian in this genre, but Land of Doom drops every obligatory line and situation like an atom bomb. It looks like all originality was destroyed in the Final War as well. Actually, it’s impressive how the Finnish ‘filmmakers’ seemed to nail every possible cliché. As a result, I am suffering from its fallout of stupidity.

 

For example, the plot: this fella Anderson, who used to be with a vicious group of cycle bandits (these movies always have them) escaped because his ideas were too liberal, or perhaps he thought the studded leather uniforms a little much. Anyway, enter Harmony, a man-wary tough chick who wears what looks like a g-string on the outside of her unflattering khaki pants. Instead of any real dialogue, they trade obvious insults at every possible opportunity, that is, whenever they are not engaged in sophomorically orchestrated fight scenes. Even the synthesizer action music is reminiscent of a syndicated television theme song.

 

Who cast this crap?

 

 

When we first meet Anderson he is bloodied from battle, so afterward, sometimes he remembers that he is injured and he has to grab his side and wince, but most of the time he’s fighting and making lewd remarks to our uptight heroine. Some guy named Slater has a beef with Anderson because he disfigured him or whatever. He has a motorcycle club, a leather fetish, and a harem of young actresses who probably went on to do porn. Later on, some other guy name Orland and his puppy Guinevere, conveniently enter the story right about the time when our heroes need saving. He’s only in about ten minutes of the movie, but there is a teary farewell when they are about to part ways at the end. And who would have thunk it – Anderson and Harmony share an awkward kiss that comes after little or no relationship development. Sorry to give it all away.

 

Don't be a hater, Slater.

 

The rest of this movie’s elements I am forced to sum up with “oh ands.” Oh, and there are these plague victims and cannibal rednecks. Oh, and the bad guys’ motorcycles are affixed with many pieces of flair crafted in a high school metal shop class. The motorcycles are too ludicrously cheap for words. Oh, and the main bad guy has this really cool metal gauntlet with a precarious crossbow attached to the glove. Oh, and there are Jawas.

 

The film ends with all three characters shrugging their shoulders, exclaiming “Here we go again!” A big question mark then appears on the screen along with the closing ‘The End’ text, promptly followed by “…or is it?” Actually, this doesn’t happen, but it might as well. Teasing a nonexistent sequel, VHS cover has the flagrantly adds ‘The Battle Begins’ to the title, a mistake previously made by Remo Williams. I lied; this is LOD after all. Anderson’s last words are “Here we go again,” my bad.

 

Post-apacolypse Danny DeVito

 

But maybe we can salvage this, like we do with all bad movies and start drinking or otherwise intoxicating ourselves. Drink every time someone asks Anderson the phrase “is that your woman?” and take another every time Harmony says “I can take care of myself” or “Don’t touch me.” Or, just drink every time something stupid happens – that should get you to where you want to be.

 

Most noteworthy, from a historical perspective, remains the VHS box, a prime example of fraudulent 80’s marketing. I guess that’s supposed to be Slater reaching out for your wallet, but in the movie his gauntlet is made of foil and held together by Elmer’s Glue and not nearly as awesome. And who is that Red Sonia chick? What movie did the poster artist see? But after sitting through this piece of

trash, I understand why they went with such deceptive cover art – so that suckers at the movie house and video store would be duped into viewing it (hey, it worked on me).

 

Much like the traditional Finnish dish, pickled herring, Land of Doom should only be enjoyed outdoors; the stench is far too overpowering otherwise. This film might have been hilarious if there weren’t already so many awful and amateurish post-apoc movies stealing its thunder. This one is pretty inept, even by the genre’s standards. Rent only at your own risk.

 

Rating: 2/5 Homemade Jawas

 

 

 

 

More video:

 

 

My prom date.