Hobo with a ShotgunThere's a moment relatively early on in Hobo with a Shotgun when the newly arrived "Hobo" (Rutger Hauer) witnesses the local crime lord "The Drake" (Brian Downey) deliver a particularly vicious execution on his own brother, one involving decapitation by pickup via a manhole cover. As the victim's blood gushes from his neck stump, a passing by woman in a bikini and fur coat dances erotically in the spray. Shocking, tasteless, even cringeworthy--I'd say this moment encapsulates Hobo with a Shotgun to a T...and yet while this will turn off audiences expecting something with even a modicum of restraint, this is an invitation to the real audience of the film.
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Hobo with a Shotgun was originally a concept presented as a cut trailer from the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino collaboration, Grindhouse--itself an homage to trashy B-movies, where sleaze sells seats, and where cheap production values meant higher profit margins...even if almost no one went to see them. Expanded into a full-length feature by director Jason Eisener, the movie fleshes out the concept of a rampaging hobo with the titular shotgun by giving him just enough character to carry us from scene to bloody scene. The unnamed hobo rides into town on the proverbial rail; his stopping point is Hope Town, renamed "Scum Town", for reasons which become all too apparent, all too quickly. The town is run by The Drake, and his two detestable, murderous sons, the favorite Slick (Gregory Smith) and second fiddle, Ivan (Nick Bateman). This malignant family also has the town law in their pocket, and all of them seem to revel in the practice of killing, drugs, prostitution, and basically anything abhorrent. The hobo understandably finds their behavior horrifying, but avoids getting involved; we suspect he has learned over time to keep his distance from the affairs of others, since the homeless have historically been treated with disgust. When Slick solicits a fallen woman by the name of Abigail (Molly Dunsworth)--who goes by Abby--only to engage in some kind of horrible act of violence against her, the hobo rushes to her rescue, assaulting Slick and making a "citizen's arrest", his first act of his own brand of justice. Only, this justice doesn't take, since the police chief (Jeremy Akerman) is aligned with The Drake, and Slick marks up the hobo out of revenge. When Abby finds him and takes care of him out of gratitude, they become friends, something neither of them have and end up looking out for one another to the best of their ability. But as the hobo finally earns enough to buy the lawnmower he has dreamed of--his first step in picking himself up from his situation--his conscience stirs when the pawn shop he visits is held up by violent thugs, and he has to make a choice on what to spend his fifty dollars on; suffice to say, the title of the film is not "Hobo with a Lawnmower".
Hobo with a Shotgun is designed to resemble a low-budget exploitation flick from the early days of VHS, when small time production companies (cough--Troma--cough) would release a slew of movies where the obvious appeal was in the nastiest, filthiest raunch and guiltiest of pleasures; to wit, Hobo with a Shotgun is even more Troma than Troma, with every scene sweating from its pores with gory grossness, copious f-bombs, and salacious content. To achieve the effect of an Eighties-era shockfest, the film doubles down on lurid lighting and a washed out aesthetic, something which makes it both amazingly vibrant and yet as though it had been an undiscovered--and I use this word with some irony--treasure recently resurfaced from the banned list at an old video rental shack. In truth, the effort Hobo with a Shotgun puts forth to embody one of these low brow exploitation movies is a labor of love, albeit a kind of demented love. Lighting and set design is far more complex and nuanced than one would suspect, and the musical score pounds with the kind of synthesized and percussive drive of the era; contributing artist Power Glove's track, "Hunters", feels as though it were plucked right from a John Carpenter movie. While many of the actors are relative unknowns--another hallmark of the sub-genre--the casting of Rutger Hauer in the lead is especially crafty. Not only is he a talented actor who delivers a smart performance--lending gravity to a role which is itself ridiculous--but with a collection of memorable, larger-than-life roles from the Eighties, his presence feels somehow right at home. Admittedly, I don't often find myself drawn to the films which Hobo with a Shotgun enshrines, but this film somehow exists in the middlespace between wry satire and detailed send-up to the class of film it keeps company with (should that be "classless"?), being able to bridge the two. As a result, Hobo with a Shotgun can be appreciated on either of these terms, as a splatterly, disgusting display of gratuitousness--where I challenge you not to cringe when you see a lawnmower again after the conclusion--or even as a clever subversion of the exploitation flicks of yore--if by "yore" I mean roughly thirty to forty years ago--where an appreciation of the artistry (yes, artistry) makes slumming it worth the grunge.
Recommended for: Not your aunt Fanny, unless she's a tough biker chick who chain smokes, with tattoos that say, "Satan's Ride". Seriously, this movie is really bloody, and you'll like it if you have a deep sense of irony, or know who Sergeant Kabukiman is.
Hobo with a Shotgun is designed to resemble a low-budget exploitation flick from the early days of VHS, when small time production companies (cough--Troma--cough) would release a slew of movies where the obvious appeal was in the nastiest, filthiest raunch and guiltiest of pleasures; to wit, Hobo with a Shotgun is even more Troma than Troma, with every scene sweating from its pores with gory grossness, copious f-bombs, and salacious content. To achieve the effect of an Eighties-era shockfest, the film doubles down on lurid lighting and a washed out aesthetic, something which makes it both amazingly vibrant and yet as though it had been an undiscovered--and I use this word with some irony--treasure recently resurfaced from the banned list at an old video rental shack. In truth, the effort Hobo with a Shotgun puts forth to embody one of these low brow exploitation movies is a labor of love, albeit a kind of demented love. Lighting and set design is far more complex and nuanced than one would suspect, and the musical score pounds with the kind of synthesized and percussive drive of the era; contributing artist Power Glove's track, "Hunters", feels as though it were plucked right from a John Carpenter movie. While many of the actors are relative unknowns--another hallmark of the sub-genre--the casting of Rutger Hauer in the lead is especially crafty. Not only is he a talented actor who delivers a smart performance--lending gravity to a role which is itself ridiculous--but with a collection of memorable, larger-than-life roles from the Eighties, his presence feels somehow right at home. Admittedly, I don't often find myself drawn to the films which Hobo with a Shotgun enshrines, but this film somehow exists in the middlespace between wry satire and detailed send-up to the class of film it keeps company with (should that be "classless"?), being able to bridge the two. As a result, Hobo with a Shotgun can be appreciated on either of these terms, as a splatterly, disgusting display of gratuitousness--where I challenge you not to cringe when you see a lawnmower again after the conclusion--or even as a clever subversion of the exploitation flicks of yore--if by "yore" I mean roughly thirty to forty years ago--where an appreciation of the artistry (yes, artistry) makes slumming it worth the grunge.
Recommended for: Not your aunt Fanny, unless she's a tough biker chick who chain smokes, with tattoos that say, "Satan's Ride". Seriously, this movie is really bloody, and you'll like it if you have a deep sense of irony, or know who Sergeant Kabukiman is.