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The art on the R.O.T.O.R. videocassette packaging appears to have been plagiarized from promotional artwork for Mad Max (1979). See more »
The Isuzu Impulse that Greg and Sonya/Sony drive during most of the film is dark blue with unpainted matte black bumpers, no pinstripes, and wheels with small square holes along the rims. However, the Impulse seen in the climactic lake chase scene is black with glossy painted bumpers, red pinstripes, and wheels with large square holes in the centers. See more »
[Opens switchblade comb]
Cause like I said, once you go red... you never get out of bed!
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Willard the Robot receives an end credit, although it is unclear who provided his voice. See more »
Police robotics expert Captain Coldyron (Richard Gesswein) attempts to track down R.O.T.O.R., a renegade robot cop who punishes every crime with death.
R.O.T.O.R. has me completely baffled: it's a dreadful 80s sci-fi film that rips off other better known classics (notably RoboCop and The Terminator), but while there's nothing particularly unusual about that, it is so thoroughly terrible in every imaginable way that it's hard to understand how such a dire film actually came into being. Gesswein's charmless performance; the pitiful action scenes; the lousy 80s music; the embarrassingly bad stop-motion endoskeleton that practises karate; Dr. Steele, the muscle-bound female scientist with the 'skunk-stripe' hairdo; Shoeboogie, the moronic 'American Indian' lab assistant; Willard, the comedy-relief police robot with the peaked cap; the diabolical dialogue (my favourite line being from Coldyron's strangely poetic account to the police "a buttery morning sunlight painted a golden glow through the ranch house windows"; the man sure has a way with words): so much cringe-worthy nonsense in just the one film is hard to take.
Although part of me would like to believe that R.O.T.O.R.'s awfulness was intentional, a calculated attempt to appeal to B-movie fans who lap up such trash, I sincerely doubt it, the film alternating too wildly between complete inanity and total seriousness; part of me would also dearly love this to be a genuine case of bad film-making (the 80s being THE decade for such drivel), but I find it impossible to accept that people can be THAT untalented.
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