BARB WIRE (1996)

If the 21st-century is the era of the comic-book movie planting its feet firmly on solid ground as the new failsafe mode of blockbuster (disproven many times over now, of course), then the 1990s felt very much like the decade that was still figuring things out.

The gargantuan success of Tim Burton’s Batman (1989) and Batman Returns (1992) sent studio executives scrambling to their comic-book collections (or at least, asking a nephew what’s good these days) to find the hot new intellectual property that could be bought and turned into the next blockbuster.

Before Iron Man (2008) and The Dark Knight (2008) solidified the recipe for major comic book movies for better or worse, we were offered curiosities, misfires, and the occasional hit. Barb Wire is a curiosity, a misfire, it wasn’t a hit … but it’s often irresistibly fun in a way that comic-book movies rarely are these days.

International investors, who saw the light with then-rising former Playboy model-turned-actress Pamela Anderson, sank millions into ensuring her first major starring role would be the lavish and expensive bona fide action picture she deserved. The budget, according to producer Todd Moyer, rapidly expanded to around the $20M mark. The filmmakers just had to figure out how in the hell they’d spend it. After all, it was only 10 days until filming began, and there was not yet a screenplay.

That fact is abundantly clear in the finished film. The post-apocalyptic actioner (set, rather quaintly, in 2017) was adapted from just seven pages of a comic-book. It’s perhaps why the scrawl of text that opens the film is so utterly generic.

There is mention of a new tyrannical group called the ‘Congressional Directorate’ (which is just anonymous enough to be sinister), a second civil war, and a safe zone called Steel Harbour, the last city free from martial law. There, we’re told via text and a grave voice-over, we’ll find an all-new kind of mercenary.

Barb Wire (Pamela Anderson, here credited as Pamela Anderson Lee) is that mercenary. Whether she’s an all-new kind of mercenary remains to be seen — what is seen, immediately after this exposition dump, is Barb dancing on stage in a leather catsuit, hoses spraying her from all sides. Director David Hogan lights her with neon blues and harsh whites, captured in a stylish (and absurdly horny) slow-motion, so overblown that it makes Showgirls (1995) look like The Last of the Summer Wine (1973-2010).

Hogan’s career as a music video director gives Barb Wire (his only feature film) a certain visual bombast — it’s just a pity he and the film’s screenplay have no idea what to do with Pamela Anderson aside from having her dance, get naked, or deliver one-liners in absolute monotone. Anderson, who by this point was well known for her star-making role in Baywatch (1989–2001), is often a charismatic and likeable actor. But, like the people she’d save from drowning in that iconic series, she seems totally and utterly adrift in Barb Wire.

It isn’t her fault. Screenwriters Chuck Pfarrer and Ilene Chaiken take the seven-page Dark Horse comic and somehow come out with something even less substantial. In fact, it may as well be one page— a list of quips followed by ‘Casablanca, but cyberpunk.’

Bafflingly, Barb Wire follows almost the exact plot of Michael Curtiz’s 1942 masterpiece. Instead of Morocco, we have a post-apocalyptic US city, and rather than Sam playing the classics, we have a cock-rock cover of Cameo’s “Word Up”. And instead of anything romantic or heart-wrenching, we have Clint Howard.

It isn’t worth getting bent out of shape about. A nicked story is not exactly a shocking crime for a camp quip-fest to commit. It’s more amusing than it is insulting. The gaudy tastelessness is, strangely, a part of the film’s modest charms.

The actual issue is that it bungles what should be a pretty straightforward story template. For whatever reason, the film seems to be made up of endless fetch quests and meetings with characters who pop up and then disappear. It’s as if Barb Wire was written piece-by-piece, a ‘let’s just get to the next scene’ plodding that almost smothers the life that Hogan brings to the film. ‘When will they get to the fireworks factory?’ is a quote that comes to mind often in the film’s stop-start first half.

The Hammerhead Nightclub, where most of the film’s action takes place, is an impressive piece of set design. Some tabletops glow in garish blues, and steel catwalks and cages have a pleasing industrial-metal edge to them. Here, costume designer Rosanna Norton’s work truly shines. Fishnets, black leather and latex, sunglasses, metal chains and piercings all feel desirable again in 2024, tailor-made for today’s retro fashion-inspired Instagrams. One wonders if the Wachowskis saw Barb Wire before setting out to make their masterpiece, The Matrix (1999).

After assaulting a man with a stiletto for calling her ‘babe’ (one of the film’s several cheer-worthy moments), Barb curiously disappears for much of the film’s first half. It’s a peculiar situation: an ostensible star vehicle in which the filmmakers seem eager to put Anderson in the backseat. When we do see Barb, it’s usually from behind, and often with a stand-in and/or stunt double in place of Anderson. Her many, many ADR’d lines are haphazardly thrown in — ”Ever see Batman?” is one of the most groan-worthy, hastily dashed on top of a scene in which Barb uses a grappling hook to rescue someone.

When she’s not around (presumably out doing Barb’s errands), Hogan populates the screen with a murderer’s row of character actors with good faces. A bald Udo Kier is something to behold, and worth the price of admission alone. The sweet Jack Noseworthy, who plays Barb’s blind brother, Charlie, brings a youthful zest to proceedings, and both actors further demonstrate the beautifully specific costume design. Kier, as Barb’s faithful manservant Curly, wears a tuxedo and sometimes sports an inexplicable curly wig, while Charlie’s dog tags, sunglasses and tank top make him look like a touring member for late-’90s Metallica (if he weren’t too likeable).

A particularly inspired bit of costuming takes the form of a jacket worn by a crooked police chief played by Xander Berkeley (Terminator 2: Judgment Day) —kind of an updated Civil War Union jacket — his face complete with sideburns and a moustache. The actor’s cocked eyebrow and deliciously deployed smugness signify that he knows exactly what kind of film he’s in.

When she shows up again, Barb meets up with an old flame, Axel (Temuera Morrison) who’s now on the run with his wife, Dr Devonshire (Victoria Rowell, who was then starring in the daftly loveable Diagnosis: Murder  series). From the cast to the backlot sets, Barb Wire has network TV written all over it. But here, there is a spark of interest.

The good doctor has escaped the clutches of the evil government, harbouring secret knowledge of a government bio-chemical weapon, derived from… AIDS. Yes. Barb Wire contains a plot point about an AIDS bomb. It’s tasteless, stupid, and oddly timely, and could only really have happened in the ‘90s.

Yet, that detail is explored no further. Here there is room to mirror the real-life American Government’s neglect and cruelty towards people living with AIDS. Perhaps it’s expecting too much of a film that also features a morbidly obese villain named Big Fatso who lives on the front of a bulldozer and chomps joyfully on a chicken drumstick. But why mention a topic as sensitive as AIDS at all, then?

Barb eventually decides to help Axel and Dr Devonshire, who plan to escape to neutral Canada. Dr Devonshire has had drastic and extensive plastic surgery to alter her appearance, but the futuristic retinal scanners will give away her true identity when trying to leave the country. Along the way, there are brilliantly inventive bits of shabby future tech, the most interesting being a computer that can be hooked up to a person’s brain to visualise their memories. It’s a great concept and a clever way of foregrounding how authority figures and governments gain access to our inner lives — particularly in a post-Patriot Act world.

Why, then, for the love of God, does the film spend so much time pursuing perhaps the dullest MacGuffin ever put to screen: contact lenses? You see, these special contact lenses (which we don’t see — just the generic metal tube that holds them — it looks a little like Austin Powers’ mojo container) will disguise the Doctor and Axel’s eyes and allow them to leave the country without getting caught. Barb, she’s decided, will go with them. Talk about being a third wheel.

The plot may be thoroughly inert, but Hogan’s cinematic indulgence is rarely dull. Shootouts are bombastic and filled with endless squibs and exploding sets, punch-ups are splashy and dramatically framed, and the film’s mayhem-fuelled final third finds a sweet spot somewhere between a Michael Bay film and a theme park stunt show. When Barb Wire finally comes alive, you almost forget that you’ve been going in circles for the past hour.

It’s a film that seems designed to be watched decades on with a room full of people clapping, laughing, and quoting along with it. A film that strains to become a cult classic is doomed to failure, and though Barb Wire knows exactly what it is, with all its Russ Meyerisms and lowbrow aesthetics, it is ultimately the perfect cocktail of ’90s bombast, cheese-and-sleaze, and characters almost iconic in their uselessness. This is a film that gives more screen time to Barb scrubbing herself down in a bubble bath than it does to her responding to the death of a loved one.

It gestures towards the Girl Power brand of ‘90s feminism, spearheaded in many instances by geeky Whedonites whose sole concept of a strong woman is ‘big tits and kicks arse’. But once again, maybe now is the time for Barb to have her moment in the spotlight. Regardless of the dodgy script and direction, Anderson is thoroughly loveable, and the wildly misogynistic treatment she endured in the ‘90s (and beyond) means that more than ever, it is deeply satisfying to see her take names and leave smoking cinders in her wake.

After all, the past decade of feminism in media has argued that it’s a woman’s prerogative to be sexy and kick-ass, and one does not have to be sacrificed for the other. And further, the question has arisen: why should women have to sacrifice their femininity just to be taken ‘seriously’ by men?

Barb Wire says to hell with seriousness, good taste, and often, good sense. When it comes to a good cult film, it isn’t that audiences put up with a film’s flaws. The flaws are accepted and celebrated, taken warts and all. And, would we ever wish for a tasteful version of Barb Wire? Like our heroine adorned in dominatrix gear and breaking a paddle over the head of a customer, Barb Wire often feels like receiving mild brain damage—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

USA | 1996 | 98 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • FRENCH • GERMAN

4K Ultra HD Blu-ray Steelbook Special Features:

New 4K HDR restoration from the original negative with Dolby Vision by Turbine. I saw Barb Wire last year in standard HD, and this 4K restoration is far superior. The film’s colour palette is bold, sometimes beautiful, and is faithfully recreated and enhanced here. One scene, in particular, sees Barb undressing (if you can believe that), with one half of the room in deep, rich reds, while the other side has a smoky midnight blue — and it looks astonishing. The level of detail is thrilling, especially in the Hammerhead Club when every square inch is filled with props and details that are brought to life in 4K. A nice, healthy film grain is maintained —on 4K, Barb Wire looks better than many films released today at higher budgets.

New 5.1 and 2.0 mix. Barb Wire also sounds tremendous. The shootouts, in particular, have deep bass but maintain their clarity. With a soundbar, the scene in which Barb, in Bounty Hunter mode, captures a target in an apartment block sounds like a full-blown melee. It is also a music-heavy film, and each needle-drop— especially those by the Greek band Barb Wire Girls, who appear on screen as the Hammerhead’s house act —sounds as if you’re in the room with them.

NEW interviews with producer Todd Moyer (18 mins), costume designer Rosanna Norton (18 mins) and visual effects supervisor Chris Brown (16 mins). These interviews, new for this release, are each very interesting and self-deprecating. The interviewees —especially Moyer— aren’t shy about discussing the disaster that was this film’s production. The interviews illuminate many of the constraints faced by the filmmakers, and after watching them you might end up having more appreciation for what was achieved under such demanding circumstances.

Sexy Outtakes (9 mins). A 10-minute extended sequence of Pamela Anderson dancing in the nip. It is what it is.

Making Of (15 mins). Made when the hope was still alive that Barb Wire might be a success, filled with on-set interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, and plenty of MTV-style editing. A real time capsule.

Promo featurette (6 mins). Essentially, a condensed version of the making of, with a bit more information about the origins of the film.

Trailers.

Cast & Crew

director: David Hogan.
writers: Chuck Pfarrer & Ilene Chaiken (story by Ilene Chaiken; based on the comic-book by Chris Warner).
starring: Pamela Anderson Lee, Temuera Morrison, Victoria Powell, Jack Noseworthy, Xander Berkeley, Udo Kier & Steve Railsback.