I waited to see Crank until it hit DVD. When I did see it, I found myself adding “never saw Crank on a big screen” as just the latest brick to my Great Wall of China of Personal Disappointments in Myself. Sure, the CGI car stuff still gives me an uncomfortable itch under my fingernails, but other than that I thought that the first exploit of Chevy Chelios was a mindless, psychotic, violent, vulgar, Molotov cocktail-to-the-face, straight injection of Tabasco sauce into the medulla oblongata, popcorn and laughs flick. It was a simple formula established with an absurd hook, then injected it with 7000cc of Great White testosterone (the shark, not the band) and set it loose on the world. Some people couldn’t wrap their head around it, some people refused to even try, and still some couldn’t care less, but for those people that lick their lips in eager anticipation for that style of “music video” kick-to-the-crotch mental terrorism, it definitely left its searing hot brand on the backs of their skulls.
If you’re one of the latter, then you’re in luck because High Voltage builds on the same ridiculous rampaging inferno of its predecessor by throwing gallons of crazy fuel at it. The same rapid-fire storytelling technique is utilized once again as we follow everyone’s favorite LA hitman in another race to maim and maul as many motherfuckers as it takes until he gets what he needs: in this case, his stolen heart.
Despite dropping 30,000 feet from the sky (and bouncing off of a car) at the end of his last murder marathon, Chev (Jason Statham) somehow managed to survive. His body was recovered immediately from the middle of the street by members of the Chinese Triad gang, intent on harvesting the underworld superman’s ultra-resilient insides to score high paydays on the black market. The first piece to go was his heart, but in order to keep his innards functional until they too could be harvested, his Triad keepers slapped an artificial ticker into Chev’s cavity to keep his adrenaline saturated crimson pumpin; and thumpin’. Before the rest of their intended gut plundering can get underway though, well, can you guess what happens? If you said, “Chev wakes up and kicks everyone’s asses”, give yourself a pat on the back or a pinch of the nip. If you said, “Chev goes on an existential coma journey of self awareness before passing away feeling he’s lead a satisfying and fulfilling life in an episode of cinematic poetry”, slap yourself on the wrist, look at yourself in a mirror and yell, “NO!”. If you said, “Chev comes out of my TV set hand-in-hand with the Hamburglar and we all share a round of Jell-O Pudding Pops while discussing the intricacies of Lidsville”, you need to stop using your dead grandma’s ashes as a dessert topping, cuz that old lady did a LOT of LSD in her day and that shit does NOT leave the body… even in cases of total physical immolation.
The only major story difference between this and the first (there’s a story?!) is that instead of keeping his adrenaline up, Chev now has to power his new artificial heart with jolts of electricity or static power from skin-on-skin friction… or skin-in-skin friction when it comes to Chev’s lady love and an impromptu “expedition” at a horse-racing track. While he's chasing down his disembodied ticker (carried by a satisfyingly deranged Triad delivery boy named Johnny Vang), the revelation of Chev's continued existence also makes him the target of a Mexican gang under the control of a mystery figure known only as El Huron, aka "the Weasel". Our boy Chelios has no idea why he's drawn the ire of this particular wheeler and dealer, but you can bet he'll have it all revealed to him sooner than later. Chev's just gotta make sure that
A lot of CHV’s cast will also give you déjà vu. Amy Smart is back as Chev’s girlfriend Eve, who has no problem practicing the Kama Sutra in public if it means keeping her hooligan’s heart gainfully employed. Country singer Dwight Yoakam also makes another paycheck with “Crank” in the memo line, reprising his role as Chev’s black market bonesetting buddy Doc Miles. Efrain Ramirez, whose character kicked the bucket last time, is back again with another decidedly un-Pedro character to portray. This time he takes up as Venus, the guy-linered brother to his former screen credit Kaylo, who is seeking revenge for the death of said murdered hermano… and is hindered more than once by his rare “Full Body Tourettes” condition. Cokehead massage parlor skeev and hepatitis hatchery Bai Ling joins the group as a “social club” working girl who discovers the trials and tribulations of falling for Mr. “Don Juan” Chelios. You know, the more I type out the guy’s name, the more it sounds like one of those Mexican made Cheerios knock-offs you only see on the shelves at "$1 or Less" stores. Martial arts senior citizen David Carradine makes "High Voltage just one of his FOURTEEN movie projects for 2009, appearing as dirty old Triad crime lord Poon Dong. Yep, Whitey plays his 794th Chinese character. Four more and he qualifies for a 1% ownership of China. Corey Haim pops his head in for a few scenes as a titty bar dirtbag named named Randy. If you've ever wondered what said head would look like sporting a white trash "mustache & mullet" combo, now is your chance! Geri "Ginger Spice" Halliwell also plays a quickie part as Chev's dear old mom in a "flashback" scene, and a cavalcade of other personalities get their own brief cameos too with the likes of UFC fighter Keith Jardine, Troma founder Lloyd Kaufman, Tool front man Maynard Keenan, NIN member Danny Lohner, porn legend Ron "the Hedgehog" Jeremy, and I'm sure a whole slew of other people I didn't recognize.
If you found yourself grinning and giggling when those end credits rolled at Crank, you owe it to yourself to plug into High Voltage. Writer-directors Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor know what made their first flick work and bring more of the same. It’s a little late for most people to catch this in theaters (the damn thing bombed out on opening weekend), but much like folks did with the original, feel free to jump all over it when it finds its way to DVD and make yourself its hot little whore. The rest of you? I dunno. Go watch The Dark Knight for the 37th time.
Moral of the Story: Don’t make Dwight Yoakam have to choke a bitch…
Sequel to: Crank
