Recently I've really come to respect Roger Corman, perhaps the most successful cheapskate in cinema history. Despite an overwhelming passion for economies, Corman was nonetheless able to produce a series of exquisitely-made, atmospheric Poe adaptations, among them 'The Masque of the Red Death (1964)' and 'The Tomb of Ligeia (1964).' His last film for American International Pictures was creatively titled 'Gas! -Or- It Became Necessary to Destroy the World in Order to Save It. (1970)' {or simply "Gas-s-s-s"}. This post-apocalyptic black comedy is a bit of an oddity, more reminiscent of a Coen brothers film than the graceful Gothic horrors with which I've come to associate Corman. Certainly, many viewers are left bewildered by the film's zany comedic scenarios, sprinkled with bizarre humour and social satire, and I think it's a cleverer film than first appearances might suggest.
Corman's ponderous title works in two ways. Firstly, it shamelessly rips off Kubrick's 'Dr. Strangelove (1964),' the post-apocalyptic comedy to which all post-apocalyptic comedies aspire. Secondly, it presents an anti-militaristic agenda – and, more specifically, an anti-Vietnam War message. The second title paraphrases an American general's infamous war-time declaration, following the destruction of Ben Tre, that "it became necessary to destroy the village in order to save it." The film's animated prologue, fronted by a caricatured John Wayne-like general, depicts the military accidentally releasing a poison gas that kills everybody in the world over 25 years of age. Thus, society is left in the hands of the college students, whose free-wheeling, pot-smoking, sex-obsessed ways promise an end to civilisation itself.
This new "young people only" world is ruled by cartoonish and irresponsible egos, their behaviour dictated purely by cultural stereotypes: a deranged football captain reduces raping and pillaging to a competitive sport; a posse of black golfers fight non-existent racial inequality and celebrate the "common American." The film treats its dark themes with an astonishing breeziness, typical of the carefree "you only live once" mentality of the 1960s hippie counter-culture. Rape is idly characterised as a sort of recreation, a far cry from the disturbing rape scenes in another low-budget post-apocalyptic film, Ray Milland's 'Panic in Year Zero! (1962).' There's a car-chase on golf-buggies. Even Edgar Allen Poe turns up on a motor-cycle, for no apparent reason other than to reference the director's earlier works. This film is insane. Corman knows this, and he runs with it.
Corman's ponderous title works in two ways. Firstly, it shamelessly rips off Kubrick's 'Dr. Strangelove (1964),' the post-apocalyptic comedy to which all post-apocalyptic comedies aspire. Secondly, it presents an anti-militaristic agenda – and, more specifically, an anti-Vietnam War message. The second title paraphrases an American general's infamous war-time declaration, following the destruction of Ben Tre, that "it became necessary to destroy the village in order to save it." The film's animated prologue, fronted by a caricatured John Wayne-like general, depicts the military accidentally releasing a poison gas that kills everybody in the world over 25 years of age. Thus, society is left in the hands of the college students, whose free-wheeling, pot-smoking, sex-obsessed ways promise an end to civilisation itself.
This new "young people only" world is ruled by cartoonish and irresponsible egos, their behaviour dictated purely by cultural stereotypes: a deranged football captain reduces raping and pillaging to a competitive sport; a posse of black golfers fight non-existent racial inequality and celebrate the "common American." The film treats its dark themes with an astonishing breeziness, typical of the carefree "you only live once" mentality of the 1960s hippie counter-culture. Rape is idly characterised as a sort of recreation, a far cry from the disturbing rape scenes in another low-budget post-apocalyptic film, Ray Milland's 'Panic in Year Zero! (1962).' There's a car-chase on golf-buggies. Even Edgar Allen Poe turns up on a motor-cycle, for no apparent reason other than to reference the director's earlier works. This film is insane. Corman knows this, and he runs with it.