Timerider William Dear

Timerider William Dear
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Unless you have a serious dirt bike fetish or a burning yen to catch a glimpse of Fred Ward's package, there isn't a great deal to like about this tepid adolescent fantasy. Co-written, scored and funded by Michael Nesmith (the Monkees), this campy sack of barely chewed-over ideas is a little too sincere in its attempts to entertain to warrant even mocking enjoyment and isnfar too pathetic to be actually entertaining. In the single notable special feature included on the Blu-Ray, co-writer/director William Dear (Harry and the Hendersons) and Nesmith make no bones about the quality of the film, or their ambitions, pointing out obvious technical and logical flaws, but they maintain that none of that sense crap matters anyway — "Just enjoy the ride, man." The duo comes across as simple-minded, but self-aware, at least in that they're able to remember what other people have told them is wrong with their movie. Any writing team that doesn't realize that the time paradox that serves as the crux of their story — spoiler alert — makes their lead character his grandfather shouldn't be allowed to fondle a keyboard. It's dumbfounding to learn, straight from the Monkee's mouth, that the filmmakers didn't make the connection until it was pointed out to them. They simply thought the plot point was a "fun" idea, just like every other element of this exceedingly feeble fish-out-of-water romp. For a little context, Fred Ward stars as Lyle Swann, an off-road motorcycle racer whose buddy has a knack for gadgetry — a point that only exists to explain Swann's custom high-tech helmet, which has a zoom lens visor. He's participating in a race in the Mexican desert when he rides into the test radius of a time travel experiment being conducted by a private company. Hilarity is supposed to ensue when he winds up unknowingly transported back in time 100 years. His shiny red jumpsuit and suped-up bike scare the bejesus out of the locals — the first old man to see him approach has a heart attack and dies on the spot. (You can clearly see the elderly Mexican blink post-mortem.) I wonder if that's another thing Nesmith and Dear didn't notice, didn't care about or if they simply didn't have the time or money to do another take? The "fire machine" Swann rides attracts the attention of a gang of bandits, while his body piques the interest of a pretty gunslinger named Claire (Belinda Bauer), who demands Swann give her a good schtupping at gunpoint. Swann doesn't refuse and seems to enjoy himself, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Is that still sexual assault? Did Nesmith and Dear care or did they just think it'd be "cool" for their manly avatar to be forced into sex? "Who would actually watch this movie and give enough of a shit to be concerned?" is a better question. (Shout! Factory)