Six-String Samurai
By Walter Parker
This is what happens when you mix Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior, The Wizard of Oz, and any old-school kung-fu movie. This is a shallow, violent, and cheesy action/adventure/comedy film full of unbelievable characters in unbelievable circumstances with sub-par acting and cringe-inducing one-liners. There’s not much I don’t love about director Lance Mungia’s 1998 independent film, Six-String Samurai.
The premise is simple enough, and presented in onscreen text after a brief montage of atomic bomb explosions at the start of the film. Russia has taken over the United States. The last American stronghold is Lost Vegas, Nevada, where Elvis was literally crowned king. The story follows Buddy (Jeffrey Falcon), a boozy, sword-toting guitar player on a journey through the wastelands of post-apocalyptic Nevada to Vegas, where he intends to take the crown of the now-deceased Elvis and become the king himself – if he can avoid getting killed by Death (Stephane Gauger) or one of his goons. He is joined early in the film by a young boy (Justin McGuire) who is mute most of the way, except for groaning loudly at Buddy whenever he wants his attention. Buddy tries to ditch him much of the film, but the boy frequently proves an asset on Buddy’s journey through the vagabond-filled wastes of Nevada.
The score mostly consists of tracks provided by the band Red Elvises, who also star as themselves early in the film. There is something strangely visceral about watching Buddy slice and jump-kick his way through hordes of miscreants to the unmistakable twang of surf and rockabilly, particularly when these miscreants range from cannibals to a bowling gang. The soundtrack takes the natural rock and roll vibe of the story and brings it to the forefront, as well as help set the mood for Buddy as a character. You know he will become king in Vegas because he is rock and roll.
In addition to the soundtrack, the costume, prop and set designs give this film more than enough nuclear apocalyptic atmosphere. Everything is broken, battered, torn, and/or questionably usable. Buddy wears the same tuxedo the entire film, and it becomes more tattered after every fight. Anytime he orders a drink from a makeshift bar in a run-down settlement in the middle of nowhere, his drink is served in a half-shattered glass or a partially-melted cup. All but one of the vehicles the duo use end up breaking down not long after their acquisition, the exception being a tandem bicycle that was simply discarded near the end of the film. A small army of Russians, though they have guns, haven’t had bullets since 1957. The desserts in Nevada already conjure images of life after civilization, but these extra touches push those images over the top.
This movie, for what it is, can be surprisingly deep at times for the attentive viewers, and makes numerous subtle and not-so-subtle references to music trends and pop culture. But, it remains a martial arts comedy with the soul of rock and roll. It won’t satisfy viewers looking for plot complexity or relatable characters. But, for those looking for something almost mindless, this could certainly satisfy that urge.
Newburg 342 