Review #1,433: 'Dead End Drive-In' (1986)

After the global success of low-budget exploitation flick Mad Max, the Australian film industry underwent a revolution, built mainly around fast cars, a rebellious attitude, and a satirical look at the 'dangerous' youth of the day, all within a post-apocalyptic, near-future setting. One of the directors at the forefront of the Ozploitation movement was Brian Trenchard-Smith, the man behind such cult classics as Turkey Shoot, BMX Bandits and The Man from Hong Kong. The director referred to his best work, Dead End Drive-In, as a mixture of Mad Max and Luis Bunuel's The Exterminating Angel, and although he was clearly over-reaching by comparing his film to two established classics, there's much more going on here than punk teenagers, souped-up classic cars and boobs. Yes, Dead End Drive-In is just as concerned with social and economic commentary as it is with loud music, B-movies and vehicles smashing into each other.

In the near-future, society has crumbled amidst economic collapse, and small gangs of mohawked ne'er-do-wells scour the cities for car parts. With manufacturing at an all-time low, cars are now a commodity so criminals cruise the streets looking for accidents in the hope of swiping rare parts for profit or to pimp out their own method of transportation, while rival salvage companies battle it out for scraps. Workout junkie Crabs (Ned Manning) has little trouble getting his hands on an impressive ride - his burly older brother possesses a 1956 Chevy - and he manages to persuade his sibling to loan him the chick-magnet for a date with his girlfriend Carmen (Natalie McCurry). A night at the flea-pit local cinema followed by a night of steamy passion is clearly on Crabs' mind, but this particular drive-in has a little secret. Surrounded by high fences and S-roads that don't permit walking, the drive-in is actually a concentration camp that keeps its inhabitants - horny, trouble-making teenagers - prisoner. While the residents of the graffiti-laden hellhole appear content with their responsibility-free existence of booze, drugs and sex, Crabs does everything he can to persuade the creepy owner (Peter Whitford) to help him escape.

Described as a sort-of offbeat Mad Max clone upon its release, the comparisons to George Miller's grindhouse favourite seem a little lazy. While both films share a fetish for automobiles and a concern for the economic climate, the only other similarities are the accents and a grungy aesthetic. Dead End Drive-In doesn't litter the story with action scenes, and although it is book-ended by some impressive stunt-work, the film takes it down a gear during the middle section to explore the madness of Crabs' situation. The idea of a makeshift concentration camp for the apparently disenchanted youth is interesting enough, but the crazy idea that the prisoners within the walls are in fact happy to stay lend the film a unique and rather pleasantly maddening tone. If you've ever been stuck within a dream where nobody can understand you, you'll empathise with Crabs' plight, despite his unfortunate nickname. While the dip in pacing may infuriate exploitation fans hoping to see leather-clad warriors of the apocalypse battling it out on jacked-up vehicles, it only increased my curiosity, and while Trenchard-Smith doesn't explore its themes with enough care to make the film truly resonate, Dead End Drive-In is one of the more thought-provoking and off-kilter efforts from the age of Ozploitation.


Directed by: Brian Trenchard-Smith
Starring: Ned Manning, Natalie McCurry, Peter Whitford, Wilbur Wilde
Country: Australia

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie