Sherman: Up All Night -- "Time Barbarians"

The first movie for the Sherman: Up All Night marathon was a crap-tastic crapterpiece. It's not often one sees a move like this: part fantasy, part historic epic and part retarded. Well, stupid anyway. Calling this movie retarded is an insult to retarded people. This movie had everything one looks for: tits, big burly men who look like ex-members of Poison (complete with thin, leather man-bras), the classic battle of Good vs. Evil and time travel... with a helping dose of misogyny and "dialogue" that attempts to be Shakespearean and succeeds beyond expectations -- that is if you thought Shakespeare might have been a re-re.

“Time Barbarians” is more than just a cheesy title; it's also just damn misleading. What little time travel there is doesn't happen until the last thirty minutes or so, which means we're forced to endure a hellish hour of the film-maker's misguided revenge-fantasy fulfillment against those who have done him wrong, which I gauge to be the entire human race.

On behalf on my humanoid brethren, may I just ask the filmmaker, writer/director, Joseph John Barmettler (If that's a pseudonym, then sweet Jesus you can't even make up a good fake name? And if it isn't, well... you have my condolences sir): "Dude!? Why?” The amount of things wrong with this movie are nearly too numerous for me to list, but we all know that won't stop me from trying my damnedest.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

First things first: before man became (*cough*) civilized, we were once a roving band of hunters and gatherers, split up into an endless number of tribes, each led by their own king -- unless you live in this film, where there are really only two, each consisting of about a dozen members.

There are, as in any tale involving these things, good tribes and evil tribes. Easily told apart by, well... the evil barbarians have a sort of Three Stooges cry, tend to do this weird posturing, and also wear make up. Plus, the main bad guy -- and his two henchmen -- wear clothes, shirts and pants. The good barbarians strut around like proud peacocks in their loin cloths, and posture in a stoic, manly style. Their battle cry is a succinct grunt.

The king of the good barbarians, at least of the tribe that the movie concerns itself with, is Doran (Deron McBee). He rules his tribe with the help of a magical crystal, given to his grandfather by the Wizard (Ingrid Vold), who may or may not be an ex-playmate... or a future one, if she's into the whole time traveling deal.

If she wore that sheer blouse when she gave Dorna's grandfather the crystal, I'd hand it down to each generation too...

...

Sorry, got a little side tracked there. So, there's Doran -- the big, burly roid-zilla type, with long flowing blond locks, and the previously stated man-bra -- and there's his queen Lystra (Joann Ayers): a blonde bombshell, complete with a shammi bikini and that hereditary, magic crystal, which she wears like a chastity belt. No joke, she walks around with a giant crystal protruding from her... Come on, it's too fucking easy... much like Lysrta is. OOOOOOHH! BUUURRRNN!

Moving on, the bad barbarian, Mandrak (Daniel Martine), while not as huge, is still pretty fuck-off huge, with long flowing, black hair. Ah, the simple, subtle visual metaphor for evil. Black. Even his shirt is black. Why is the bad guy the only one fully clothed, though? I'm not sure what Barmettler is trying to say. Maybe that man has become more savage as he has become more civilized -- that progress has actually caused man to regress? Hmmmm...

Long story short: Mandrak kidnaps Lystra, rapes her, kills her and steals the crystal, thereby accidentally transporting himself and his henchman into present day L.A. Doran meets the (hubba-hubba) wizard that gave his family the crystal and she sends him “...to a land called, 'The Future'” to get her crystal back and kill Mandrak, for shits and giggles.

After arriving in present-day L.A. -- and by present day, of course, I mean 1990 -- he happens upon a pretty news reporter doing a segment on the rising crime in the city who is being molested/and or sexually abused by a street-gang led by the worlds biggest Jerome “Curly” Howard fanatic. And so, Doran does battle with the hapless gang, Conan style... if Conan was a hair band enthusiast.

The ravishing, roving reporter is Penny (Joann Ayers... again) is an almost drop dead twin of Lystra. Of course, none of this escapes Doran's Columbo-like gaze. And, of course, the pretty Penny finds the oiled up ex-Great White drummer an absolute dream come true. Yada, yada, Mandrak and Doran “do battle,” Doran with his He-Man-esque sword (with the ability to phase in and out of existence) and Mandrak with his... tommy gun?

Mother fucker bought, literally, a car full of illegal fire arms... and he chose a goddamn tommy gun? Damn it, Bartmettler!

This movie blows. It was produced by Troma, one of the last truly independent Independent film companies out there. In the past, Troma has given us some talented film makers (see: James Gunn, writer/director of “Slither”) as well as some truly bizarre original ideas: "Sgt. Kabuki," "Toxic Avenger," etc.

On the DVD there's an extra about Troma Dance Festival, which is Troma's version of Sundance film festival. Admittance of film are 100% free, and so is attendance. I bring this up because on this special feature they show a man yelling at the camera: “Give art back to the people! Now! We've waited long enough.”

After watching “Time Barbarians,” I'm half tempted to wander up to the “people,” take the art out of their hands -- while saying “yoink” of course -- and then hitting them over the head with a rolled up newspaper while yelling, “NO! BAAAAD 'PEOPLE'!”

I'll give “Time Barbarians” one thing, though; when the credits started to roll, I had a wicked urge to go listen to some Scorpion.

Fucking movie.


/ 5


Yours Until Hell Freezes Over,

Jeremiah