Anyone requiring evidence that video games will eventually destroy cinema need go no further than a theater showing "Torque." The only thing missing from this movie was a joystick.
Given that manufacturers today are supposed to plaster every product with warnings labels informing their dumber customers about the hidden dangers of shoving running hair dryers up their asses while soaking in bathtubs full of gasoline, I see the producers of "Torque" being in court for the rest of their lives. Let's face it: Motorcycle riders aren't the brightest bulbs in the hardware store. The terms "road crayon" and "organ donor" didn't come out of thin air.
It's one thing to show people on motorcycles going fast. It's quite another to show them doing summersaults and effortlessly barreling through signs at 100 mph. Naturally, the signs just splinter apart and the riders proceed on their merry way. In real life, pieces of skull get left behind. Hmmm, I guess that is the nice thing about prompting motorcycle riders to do stupid stuff. If they do it and it doesn't work out, they're not around to sue you.
The plot, or at least what can be gleaned between the overpowering sound of revving engines and the heavy breathing of the under-100 IQ crowd, follows the least interesting character in the film, Cary Ford (Martin Henderson). I'm not sure why this guy is the so-called "star." Ice Cube plays the leader of a bike gang and does his best to secure entry into the Sneerers Hall of Fame. Apparently, Ford has some drugs that belong to another bad-ass biker, but he can't give them back for some reason I can't recall.
Ford comes back to town because he misses his woman, Shane (Monet Mazur). Henry (Matt Schulze), wanting his drugs back, frames Ford for the murder of Ice Cube's brother, and pretty much everybody spends the rest of the movie racing around on their bikes trying to catch one another. People fall and break things, but never get hurt. It's a really nice thought until you're in the Emergency Room getting part of your ass grafted onto your forehead.
Frankly, having my ass grafted onto my forehead might have been a pleasant alternative to watching this thing.
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