Though it sounds like the latest kinky direct-to-Internet release from one of Paris Hilton's unwashed ex-boyfriends, "The Cars That Ate Paris" is actually the first film directed by Peter ("Master and Commander") Weir. Peter's lucky it wasn't his last. In fact, it's nothing short of a miracle he ever made another film.

There's, of course, Paris, France. Film buffs also know that there's a Paris, Texas. Maybe fans of obscure Australian cinema knew about Paris, Australia. I didn't. Do Australians even know about Paris, Australia? How many Parises do we need anyway? Does naming your town Paris do something for tourism? Do stupid people book flights to Paris and end up in Texas and Australia realizing that they're in the wrong place?

This film was made in the early '70s, so its themes deal with the 1960s to some degree. The town of Paris derives its entire economy from car accidents, so this is also something of a horror film, though one in which the filmmaker appears to have no idea what he's doing. Pretty much, anybody driving into Paris never drives out (add your own Paris Hilton joke here).

Naturally, this culture of violence and violence-related subsistence has produced a new generation of Parisians who have none of the pre-violence morals of their forefathers, so things get out of control after Arthur Waldo (Terry Camilleri) survives his car accident and is forced to stay. "Nobody leaves Paris," the Mayor (John Meillon) tells him.

Nobody left the theater either. They were all in a coma.