Amusement parks are unsettling. They have as much sinister potential as any dark alley. Even the smallest, seemingly innocent aspect, like the permanently smiling mascots greeting you just inside the barred, prison-like gates, can start to look monstrous if you stare too long. Those kids screaming in fear, refusing their parents’ attempts at a photo op . . . maybe they’re ultra perceptive to the lurking evil. And the rides designed to simulate sensations of fear and danger? What if they were too good? What if the animatronic dinosaur short circuits and hoists someone to a life-threatening height between his razor-sharp metal teeth? Sure, Jurassic Park went there, but before there was Jurassic Park, there was Westworld. And after Westworld, there was Futureworld (1976).
There’s a difference between plot and shit that happens. Futureworld is concerned with the shit that happens, never mind the narrative thread that holds it together, and it really is a dated, wild ride completely worth taking. If you’ve ever wondered what might happen if David Cronenberg could run Disney for a day, this film is your answer. Futureworld is just one theme park offered by the Delos Resort. Guests can opt for a medieval or ancient Roman holiday, complete with violent or sexual interaction with realistic robot replicas of human beings. But our protagonists (two reporters--Peter Fonda and Blythe Danner-- attempting to dig up dirt on Delos after the murderous disaster of Westworld) set off for Futureworld, so our ticket is punched.
The adventure starts with the simulation of a space shuttle launch, and this is interesting for a couple of reasons. First off, the simulation forces vacationers/participants into roles laden with responsibility, such as flight commander. The stress and panic of the simulation quickly burden these characters, and one proclaims, “Hey, I’m supposed to be on vacation!” True. What constitutes vacation? Why do we go seeking these elaborate albeit temporary stressors? How far is too far?
Once the shuttle “lands,” guests can frolic in a space-port that looks like a hybrid between Studio 54 and a Sega game. They can drink. They can fornicate with robots. They can play a game of chess with living game pieces (which are confessed elaborate holograms). There’s an early version of Nintendo Wii available where patrons can don boxing gloves wired to two humanesque robot boxers --Mike Tyson’s Punch Out with life-size knockoffs of people, if you will. Or there’s always a shuttle available for skiing on the red snow caps of Mars.
And then our reporters get a view behind the scenes at mission control for this virtual reality. They find mostly robots running this portion of the park, except for the lone Harry, the maintenance man who has to be kept around to deal with any water issues as the robots are unable to get wet. He has a faceless robot pal named Clark whom he salvaged from the trash. They play cards together. Of course there’s also exclusive access to the next Delos attraction--a machine that makes dreams visible and interactive. (Total Recall, anyone?) Blythe Danner has a strangely erotic dream sequence with Yul Brynner (the dead robot gunslinger from the now defunct Westworld) that defies description.
But for all their snooping, our reporters get red-clad surgeons (think prototypes for Cronenberg’s Dead Ringers) who scoop them up in their sleep to probe, prod, and run tests on them. Why? Because the Delos Resort is on a mission to create cyborg clones of all the most important political figures in the world . . . and these two reporters. Gotta have good publicity, you know.
In the end, our reporters destroy their cloned counterparts and escape back into reality to foil the plans of Delos. Their final act of defiance? Peter Fonda flips the bird to the head scientist of Delos who orchestrated all this evil and then slips through the Delos gateway back to the world belonging exclusively to humans . . . or does it? It’s not a new idea--technology devouring humanity--and this certainly isn’t the first movie to handle it. But what’s interesting here is we’re looking at technology as a danger in the form of leisure. Like anything with the potential to become addictive--how much is too much? At what point do you break from the real world and lose your ability to come back to it all? How do you get to the point where reality becomes the escape from the fantasy? These musings are snuggled deep below the surface of a 104-minute strange little trip to a Futureworld that is distinctly and deliciously from our past. And if you never get deep enough to see its innerworkings, it’s still worth fastening the belt and pulling down the lap bar to see all its candy-colored tricks and treasures.
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