Oh, weight loss do you think I’m being too harsh on that 1985 crime against vinyl?
I’d say I’m not being harsh enough by half.
World Gone Wild is one of those flicks I theoretically should enjoy, but could never work up even a “guilty pleasure” level of enthusiasm about. The same applies to most of the post-apoc action romps which served as the Reagan Era’s answer to the low-budget “oaters” of previous generations.
Maybe it my awareness of the realistic consequences of a nuclear holocaust made it difficult to suspend my disbelief in the cartoony parables about civilization and barbarism. Or maybe my youthful appetite for desert battles between mohawked neo-tribal warlords in scuzzed up dune buggies wasn’t as large as it could have been.
Now that I think of it, my apathy regarding World Gone Wild probably has more to do with a rather annoying member of the college Sci-Fi Club who insisted that it (along with Robot Jox) was an “important development in genre cinema.”
I’m glad I remembered that. Now I don’t have to feel residual guilt about the time he walked across campus in the rain after a friend and I lied and told him we saw one of his long-distance crushes at the bus stop.
Yeah, I was kind of a dick back then, but at least I’ll go to my grave with a conscience free of fulsome praise for Robot Jox.