Movie of the Week: The Cars That Ate Paris

Every once in a while, I get to watch a movie that really puts things into perspective and brings clarity to my view of society. This isn’t one of them.

The traffic in the township of Paris was murder / They were the cars that ate Paris

This is the story of the small town of “Paris” in middle-of-nowhere Australia, where the residents are causing fatal accidents on purpose to profit from the victims; the unsuspecting visitors. Those who survive the grusome outcome of the locals’ antics — the unlucky ones — are lobotomized and turned into “vegies” and the surgeon has his way with them as medical experiments. The other locals go all Monster Garage on the visitors’ wrecks and turn them into demolition machines for the next round.

That is… until the town’s own unlikely anti-hero turns things around amid the chaos caused by the hotrod hooligans.

Released in 1974, this is an all Australian production and the first feature length movie directed by Peter Weir, better known for his later American films, Dead Poets Society, Master and Commander and The Truman Show.

With a plot that’s a horror-parody of sorts and, although not of the same vibe as Peter Jackson’s Bad Taste, is still just low-budget and ridiculous enough to be thoroughly enjoyable. And just goes to show that directors who make silly low-budget sci-fi/horror/comedy films early in their careers can really surprise you later.

The taglines vary from the original “They were the cars that ate Paris” to the DVD’s “The traffic in the township of Paris was murder”. The American release was retitled “The Cars That Eat People”. If possible, get the original Australian version because it doesn’t have the annoying narrator and is the best one overall.

Watch the trailer


RE: Jack the Ripper Mystery: Where were you in 1888?

I’m normally not compelled to present alibis to such a degree, but considering how serious the crimes were, I must break from tradition as a preemptive measure. In the interest of full disclosure, I will prove to Jesus Budda, that I am in fact not Jack the Ripper (or one of his copycats) by accounting for my whereabouts from 1888 to today…

I’m fairly certain I was a farmer in Kinshasa, Africa near the Congo at the time. I was tending my crops in preparation for the harvest, while being yelled at by parents for being slow and lazy. I wasn’t either! I was tired!!

Then on February 3rd, 1900, I ran into a Lion.
Human vs. Lion, Lion-1 : Human-0.

And then I was born a carpenter’s son in Krasnoyarsk, Russia (Great! From molten to frozen). On January 4, 1917, I went out to shovel some snow to clear a path to the shed. It was bloody cold!

And that’s when I came across a Siberian Tiger.
Human vs. Tiger, Tiger-1 : Human-0.

And then I was born as a shepherd in Thane, India. More precisely, a shepherd who just wanted to get out of my chores and sneak ride on the steam locomotives. Those things are loud, dirty and cool! On July 13, 1935, I decided to make a move…

While jumping over the fence on my way to the station, I turned around and was staring down a full grown bull elephant.
Human vs. Elephant, Elephant-1 : Human-0.

Then, I was born to a modest family in Winona, Minnesota. Nothing special there, just your average family. Dad was injured during WWII, but still managed to hold down a job as a mechanic. And mom was helping to pay the bills with her piano lessons. I just floated around through high school and college(St. Mary’s), after which, I took a job at a lumber yard (desk job, of course. I’ve been allergic to hard labour for many consecutive lifetimes).

I was coming home from another uneventful day on August 12, 1967 (the longest I’ve been alive that I can remember), when on my path was a Timber Wolf (irony?).
Human vs. Wolf, Wolf-1 : Human-0.

I spent the next few years haunting uncle Fred who always kept nagging me, while I was alive, with his stupid guitar and off-key songs after coming home drunk. But, sadly, the fun came to an abrupt end during the month of December, 1981, when suddenly they performed an exorcism… Bastards!
Ghost vs. Uncle Fred, Uncle Fred-1 : Ghost-0.

Well, 9 months later, I landed in this lifetime. Born to a middle class family in Colombo, Sri Lanka.

…Or so I think, my memory of those lifetimes is a bit vague.
I should really stop picking the losing side…

But, as you can see, my whereabouts are all accounted for. Of course all the witnesses may have been dead for decades, but I can prove I wasn’t Jack. Besides, I didn’t even know English in 1888 so I couldn’t have possibly written the infamous notes signed “Jack”.

Considering Jesus Budda has a time machine, I’m sure he can verify these statements for himself. I’ve tried to be as descriptive as possible (as far as my memory allows).

Now that narrows it 6.8 billion potential suspects at the time of this post…

Movie of the Week: The Abominable Dr. Phibes

Few revenge movies ever go this far. Fewer are this entertaining.

Love means never having to say you're ugly

Love means never having to say you're ugly

After the tragic death of his wife, Dr. Phibes goes mad and starts killing those he blames for her death. Namely the medical staff who were responsible for her at the time.

Starring Vincent Price as the good doctor in for revenge, Joseph Cotten as Dr. Vesalius who will suffer the wrath of failure, and Virginia North as Vulnavia, Phibes’ mysterious assistant.