One of the stupidest Mad Max ripoffs I have ever seen. Completely ridiculous. Set in the “future” year of 2017.
Our “Hero” is a goddamn Robo Sexual, who can’t get off unless on a humanoid sexbot. The alternative is to go to a titty bar where lawyers for both parties draw up contracts for one night stands. The oral clause is the hardest to negotiate. Lookout for a young Morpheus, paying the bills to find.
One day, just before our hero jerks off into a glorified fleshlight with plastic tits, the damn thing shorts out. Apparently it’s a complete internal meltdown, only the “mind” remains. Since it’s an obsolete model, the only way to get another one is in a bot graveyard in Vegas.
You can’t just drive to Vegas. As the signage shows, rule of law stops being applied 15 miles from Anaheim. You need a tracker to take you there. Bog standard female Max Rockatansky, played by Melanie Griffith.
The villain that controls Zone 7, the wasteland that separates them from Vegas, is some kind of Martha Stewart upper class twit, who murders people for shit and giggles. His marauders all wear golf outfits, Hawaiian shirts and extra sunscreen. Bizarre is an understatement.
Anyway, not sure why our “hero” needs a hired gun, since he’s as skilful with assorted firearms, but worse, ends up damseling the distressed tracker in the end. This after noticing masturbation into a vagina-shaped rubber bag while a recording of a moaning woman plays on the background doesn’t hold a candle to talking to an actual woman.
Our hero is goddamn thick, since the tracker chick practically throws herself into him. The first time she meets him, she literally strips behind a Chinese wall.