Hardware

Hardware (1990)

19 years ago I began reading in genre magazines about this film Hardware and all the trials and tribulations it was having with the MPAA. My interest was piqued by the promise of illicit violence and hardcore gore. When I finally got my hands on the edited home video release, I was disappointed by the cuts made to key death scenes, but able to overlook it cause I was so fascinated by the film. It was about much more than boundary pushing violence and a kick ass robot. I mean, it had those things, but if that were all that it had, I doubt I would have spent the last two decades revisiting it several times a year on my increasingly ratty vhs copy.

Hardware is a rare breed of futuristic film that 20 years after it was released doesn’t look preposterous or dated in the least. It’s an unsettling tale of a future world wracked by environmental collapse, economic meltdown and human disassociation. A world where the technological barriers erected to protect us and make our lives easier have become a soul destroying prison. The few lucky enough to live off the streets are rendered paranoiac and perverted head cases trapped in decaying high rises. The only employment stems from strip mining and military service. The congress is on the verge of passing a population control bill and dysfunctional robot technology has a nasty habit of reactivating itself and wreaking havoc. In short, this is what I imagine the world will be in roughly 20 more years.

Political prophecy aside, this is a remarkably creative film that is every bit as enjoyable to watch as it is artistic to behold. It contains more memorable imagery in its first 10 minutes than most any other 5 films combined. The music is equally eclectic and evocative ranging from moody synth to delta blues slide guitar to industrial metal.

The acting is particularly strong throughout. Dylan McDermott and Stacey Travis make commendable leads, but it’s the supporting turns by William Hootkins as the voyeuristic cretin Lincoln Weinberg Jr. (you can call him Link) and John Lynch as the meditative acid freak Shades that give the film its color and personality.

The script is marvelous. It was a wise choice to pepper the film with allusions to the cause and particulars of the calamitous state of this future as opposed to outright explaining it. It makes the dystopian, radioactive world seem real and lets the viewer exercise their own imagination filling in the how and why. It’s refreshing in this day and age to watch a film confident enough in its viewers intelligence to not go out of its way explaining everything, instead letting characters organically interact and react naturally to their environment.

As much as I love this film and have had great respect for it for 20 years, I must make special note of a certain character’s protracted death scene that ranks among my all time favorite sequences in film history. Without entering spoiler territory, let me just say that I can think of no other death scene as multilayered, powerful, well edited and fraught with emotional impact. No matter the amount of times I watch this scene, it overwhelms me with its brilliant use of classical music and the way he gorily and dreamily succumbs to oblivion after a hallucinogenic battle to survive. The single shot of this doomed character’s feet buckling after he rises up, unaware of the seriousness of his injuries, is in my humble estimation as potent as any in the careers of Kubrick, Scorsese, Coppola and so on. Watch the scene carefully, you’ll see what I mean.

This is Hardware’s first release on DVD and Blu-ray and we all owe Severin a debt of gratitude. The picture is crisp and beautiful. The packaging is incredible and features the first instance of cover art vastly better than the original. The special features are a labor of love, the centerpiece of which is a 45 minute documentary expertly constructed by David Gregory that is as easy on the eyes as it is satisfyingly informative. This is an amazing film blessed by an amazing release that can only be described as a must buy.

4 out of 4 stars

reviewed by Matt Risnes