Jarv’s Schlock Vault: Chopping Mall.

I’m just not used to be chased around a mall in the middle of the night by killer robots. 

Some concepts are just so ripe for cheesy entertainment. Take, for example, Chopping Mall. The formula is very, very easy and runs something like this: choose isolated location, which is extremely difficult to get out of. In this instance, a Shopping Mall after hours. Then, choose a group of young, hot protagonists, who all must be willing to disrobe at a moments notice. Find a reason for them to be stuck in the aforementioned location, say, a party in a closed furniture shop (which incidentally provides beds and whatnot for them to get down and dirty in). Finally add your unstoppable antagonist, which is manifested here in the form of three squat, homicidal and overly armed security robots. This formula is absolutely unfuckupable, and even someone with the very limited talents of Jim Wynorski should be able to manage to turn in a hugely entertaining film.

Barbara loved her new Star Wars themed undergarments.

So, it’s with no little amount of pleasure that I report that Chopping Mall is an enormously entertaining effort. From silly start with the fake advertisement through to laughable ending, this is an absolutely awesome little turn. Which is a bit of a relief, actually, because I’d be livid to have sat through a film featuring killer robots and felt the cold, dread hand of boredom sitting on my shoulder. In all honesty, this is almost one of those concepts that films itself- if the script is tight enough, and the cast are good enough but more importantly willing to have fun, then it should almost be a criminal offence to fuck it up. Chopping Mall actually exceeds that bar by a fair amount, with plenty of hilarity, massive amounts of boob, and a host of amusing cameos. What’s more important, though, is that everyone seems to be having fun.

Johnny Number 55 DD

This is the plot: Evil capitalist company have developed a series of squat flat-headed Robots with lasers on their heads and funny little arms as security guards. They, apparently, can recognise and disable any intruder in a non-fatal fashion. So, instead of being set to guard a military installation or something that would warrant this degree of technology, they’re assigned to a mall somewhere in California. On their first night, there’s an unfortuante lightning storm, and this causes them to come alive (eat your heart out Johnny Number 5) and break their programming. In the meantime, a group of teenage douchebags are holding an impromptu fuck party in one of the closed shops. The most important three are slutty  Suzie (Barbara Crampton, struggling with clothing again), even sluttier Leslie (Suzee Slater), and nerd girl Alison (Kelly Maroney). The Robots discover them and carnage, hilarity and shenanigans ensue.

Shocking.

Basically, the silly premise inspires the film to jam in every single 80’s cliché available. So, we’ve got our heroes breaking in to a sporting goods store to nick guns, and Alison holing up in a pet shop having to stay still and silent under extreme duress while the robot harmlessly trawls around feet from here. It’s also nice to cameo spot here, and there’s an entertaining Dick Miller turn as a janitor trying to reason with the robots as they are both “working stiffs”.

Even more shocking.

Design wise, the robots aren’t great to be honest. Even I could spot that they’ve got severe peripheral vision problems and worse than that have caterpillar tracks which, much like the Daleks, means they’re buggered in the face of an insurmountable obstacle such as a flight of stairs. Their arms are also totally laughable scrawny wee Meccano looking things, and the pointy claw end just adds to the hilarity. Nevertheless, they’ve got an entertainingly diverse way of killing people, and Chopping Mall does indeed feature one of the all time most spectacular exploding head scenes. You can’t be rude about any film that does that.

Fuck the Daleks.

Really, though, this little film has pretty much everything that I want from a silly slice of 80’s Schlock: boob, gore, and comedy. Strangely, though, I almost think that the comedy here might be intentional, as the script contains several lines which are flat-out funny. A shining example is Alison’s explanation as to why she’s such a good shot: “My Dad’s a marine”. This is so out of place, and delivered in great dead-pan style by Maroney that I can only believe that the script actually intended to be a horror-comedy.

It really does seem to be remarkably easy for three fuckrags to procure weaponry.

As such, the acting is more important than you would otherwise think. Crampton is a classy horror actress, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her put in a bad performance, and Chopping Mall is no exception, while Maroney, effectively the lead, is more than capable of carrying the weight of the script on her shoulders. She’s on-screen for most of the shenanigans, and is a pleasingly nerdy presence, but most importantly, she’s actually quite likeable in the part. The various male actors (Tony O’Dell is the most important as nerdy Ferdy) don’t really hold up as well, but then again they’ve not got any help from the script.

Best Exploding Head scene outside of Scanners. It really is that good.

Overall, this is a hilarious little slice of schlock. It was very early in Wynorski’s career, and I can see why he became one of Schlock king Roger Corman’s go to directors. He hasn’t, that I’ve seen, ever hit these heights again, but I do seriously recommend rooting this one out, simply because it’s never less than hugely enjoyable and is wholly worth it for the head exploding sequence by itself. Chopping Mall is easily available out there, and I recommend watching it with a few beers, because it is, as they say, a blast.

I’ve got a few schlock efforts in the bank at the moment, and I’ll be back a bit later in the week with one of those, probably Pervert! which is a pretty dodgy attempt to capture the magic of the Russ Meyer films for the 21st Century, except done without an ounce of the flair of Bitch Slap (I’m still searching for the “new” Bitch Slap, by the way).

So, until next time,

Jarv