The Cars That Ate Paris

One hour into this movie and I wasn't exactly sure what kind of movie it was trying to "be". It starts off as a smalltown horror mystery of sorts but Peter Weir saddles it with so much absurdist black comedy the mystery all but evaporates and we're looking at something that is more weird/awkward than mysterious/surreal, more slow-ponderous than slow-absorbing, large parts of it reminiscent of Aki Kaurismaki and his static shots, cynical humor, deadpan delivery, and smalltown squalor. By the end of it however, the movie seems to emerge as some sort of societal parable, an allegory to the repression of a close-knit society that values appearances and tradition more than anything else and which must bury secrets in its own backyard to do so, but there's so much distraction and incoherence the point is never made with any clarity or force.

At one point the score turns Morricone circa Once Upon a Time in the West and we get a showdown in the street and young men dressed with cowboy hats. We get Carmageddon-style cars circling the statue of a cannon like Comanches painted for war. We get the vague promise of a subplot about car crash survivors turned vegetables who are kept in the hospital of the small town and who later turn up in a ball masque dressed in hoods and carton boxes (a nod to Shock Corridor?), but it never goes anywhere. Peter Weir went on to make such remarkable films as Picnic at Hanging Rock and The Last Wave, and while this never reaches the hypnotic levels of those films, it's intriguing in its own quirky awkward way. It's like a movie struggling with itself, a cult classic trying to break free from the confines of a forgettable eccentricity.

Before Peter Weir got really famous, he made this strange but worth seeing flick about a small town in Australia whose local economy centers on car wrecks, and how they draw an outsider in. "The Cars That Ate Paris" doesn't star anyone whom you would recognize, and there's no big action scenes here, but that actually gives the movie a more realistic feeling.

I should identify that this is not a movie for those with short attention spans. It's not likely to stick heavily in your memory the way that most of Peter Weir's movies do (it's certainly not my favorite of his movies). But still, it's something to check out as a historical reference if nothing else.

"I can drive!" You'll probably feel like you can too.

Peter Weir must have been an angry young man as his first film makes fun of every level of society. The corrupt, bumptious, mayor of the two-bit New South Wales town is the obvious fall guy, but no single character escapes Weir's wrath. You might expect the wild, local youths with their vitality to provide the film's conscience, but they are ultimately portrayed as dumb, reactionary yokels whose demise is mocked. Tellingly the film's key line, 'I can drive', is used to belittle the death of the gang member we get to know best. However, Weir goes too far by mocking the audience. Our hero is a pathetic emotional wreck who barely speaks, while many scenes are dragged out with ponderous monologues and plodding development, as if Weir is saying 'you've consumed this sort of rubbish before, now I am going to serve it up to you in a dark satire. Can you tell the difference?'. The Cars That Ate Paris is best watched with the fast forward in your hand, but do not skip the brilliant finale in which the sordid little town gets its just desserts.

A camp horror classic and Weir's feature debut. It's smart, gross, cheeky, macabre and just great.

Don't watch it if you think low budget is the same as being 'amateurish' because it's not. And if you're not used to Australian English, well, try not to panic. Doesn't matter if you don't get every word - just go with it!

This is the kind of film you don't see much any more, perhaps a product of its era. They weren't thinking much about marketing or target demographics - these filmmakers were just having a lot of fun, experimenting and coming up with something unique. Genre crossing, challenging and freaky, it also taps into some big themes about Australian identity and paranoia.

Of course the cars don't literally 'eat' Paris... This film was a good indication of what Peter Weir was capable of over twenty years before he made 'The Truman Show.' This is a strange movie, set in a weird town in a barren outback landscape where the normal rules of western society are being quietly ignored by the citizens for their own ends. There are peculiar parallels with 'Mad Max,' and I wonder if Australians are somehow daunted by the vastness of their own country, what it might conceal and their reliance on the automobile. 'The Cars That Ate Paris' is a gothic horror which takes a glancing swipe at consumerism and how it disassociates small communities. This is flagged right at the beginning with the opening parody of a cigarette commercial (also killers!) ending in the first wreck. There are lashings of black humour like this and a few things to say about religion and the cult of the car. A fine low-budget film.