In a futuristic theme park (well, a 1970’s-ish version of a futuristic theme park) technicians have designed hyper-realistic humanoid robots. These robots are programmed to let guests indulge their wildest fantasies; and Delos, the corporation which owns the park promises a completely safe experience. Therefore, you know that the sh*t is about to hit the fan.

Q: What do James Brolin and Milla Jovovich have in common?

A: Every time I’ve seen them in a film, they’ve felt the need to show me their nipples.

That unpleasantness aside, ‘Westworld’ is regarded as somewhat of a minor classic. As a youngin’ I used to watch this little flick whenever it came on tv, and found it to be kick-ass every time. But does the film hold up to when viewed through my now horribly jaded eyes? Well yes and no.

As a film ‘Westworld’ is all 3^rd act. A wonderful 3^rd act, I’ll grant, but that doesn’t change the fact that most of the movie is just padding. Like the recent ‘Fantastic Four’ movie, ‘Westworld’ takes way too long to set up much too little exposition, and takes every opportunity to repeat what has already been established. By the time we reach any real confrontation, it’s just about time for the end credits to roll.

I certainly wouldn’t fault a film for taking its sweet time in order to build up character and develop plot, unfortunately, that’s not the case here. The film is watchable during the build up, if not particularly gripping. The problem is that there’s just not that much story to set up. There are robots. The robots have been acting buggy lately. (As you may well be aware, this film contains one of the first postulations as to the possible existence of a computer virus) Guests that were safe are now in danger. This is pretty much the whole movie. You could say that the first two acts work at building suspense, but frankly, we all know what’s going to happen. (And check out the trailer for this film on the dvd. Did the studios just enjoy giving away the entire plot of their films back then or what?)

One could say that this time is spent exploring our cast of characters, but if One did, One would be a bold-faced liar. (That One, how I loath him!) Our two leads, bare-chested Brolin and Richard Benjamin, remain ciphers all the way through to the end. We get a general working knowledge of their characters, but no real insight. We know that Brolin’s character is a bit devil-may-care and cocky, Benjamin’s is more reserved. Some of this may be due to the fact that Benjamin’s character has just come out of a messy divorce. However, this personal baggage will not figure into the plot at any time in any way. None. Other than the fact that at least one of the pair is wealthy (the Delos attraction charges $1,000 a day, back when that meant something) we never really learn anything else about them.

Instead the film seems content to revel in its own artificial “Isn’t all this robot crap cool!“ brand of glee. We get way too many slow motion action shots, a myriad of goofy set pieces, and about five or six really annoying scenes of doughy balding bespectacled shlubs reacting with various levels of wonder/shock at the activity that they’re a part of. ( Becoming sheriff, bedding a robot prostitute, etc.) I can’t help but think of the wasted potential here. Imagine what a George Romero could have done with this premise; the dichotomy between the automata and the guests. The humans have lived compromised lives. They are “successful”, but their existence is bereft of meaning. So pitiful is their continuance that they are willing to pay vast sums in order to experience some pathetic artifice of adventure and passion. The robots have been designed to function as soulless playthings, but gain a type of malevolent free will. Of the two, who could be considered as being truly alive?

Minor spoiler warning.

Why the cyborgs turn homicidal when their programming is compromised, as opposed to just shutting down, is a bit of a puzzler to me. (Yes, I know. Because otherwise there wouldn’t be a movie.) I can see the gunslinger turning into a mad killer, but I find it a little unbelievable that a glitch-ridden chamber maid would make it a point to run around skewering folks.

Of course this marks the film’s high point. Yul Brynner is brilliant as the homicidal gunman. His cold monotone pronouncements, his odd stride, his chilling glare, all perfect. The final duel between the relentless machine and the park’s last surviving guest is inherently gripping. ( If all too short) Then again, the climax damn well better be good, after the films' kept us waiting for so long. Benjamin’s performance as guest-turned-quarry is nice enough, in fact, the acting on average is pretty damn good. The production values and special effects are entertaining, albeit in a 70’s cheese kinda way. The ending is satisfying, although in the very last scene, Crichton feels the need to beat us relentlessly around the head and neck with a big lump of irony.

But I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m slamming this picture. Despite all its shortcomings, it remains quite the cool little motion picture. Is it a masterpiece? No. But the film is well deserving of its cult status.