 Donald G Jackson has been described as some kind of heir to the tattered mantle of Ed Wood. That's just glib. Jackson is a numbskull poet in the whacked-out tradition of Alejandro Jodorowsky, so locked into his own world that he cares not a whit what the rest of us think of his 0euvre. Giving this movie a '10' is slightly misleading, however, since as it doesn't (or can't) play by the rules of 'normal' cinema, how can it be judged alongside more- ahem- conventional pictures. Anyway, a '10' it is. Not everyone will get 'Rollerblade Seven'; you might say Jackson has cunningly hidden the kernel of his banjo-fried philosophy inside a traditionally crummy low-budget Mad Max rip-off. But there's so much more to it than that. This is, after all, the man who made 'Hell Comes To Frogtown.' So, if you want to see roller-skating beauties toting samurai swords in a world overseen by such genetic near-stars as Joe Estevez and Frank Stallone, this is for you. If, on the other hand, your medication has run out and the pharmacy doesn't open until Monday, this might also be for you. 'Rollerblade Seven' leaves one with the thrilling thought of just what Jackson could achieve with a larger budget; say, two thousand dollars. You may read another review, submit your own, or return home. |
