RoboCop

Paul Verhoeven, USA, 1987, 102 minutes

"Dead or alive, you're coming with me."

Detroit. The near future. Crime is rampant, and the local police are now run by Omni Consumer Products (OCP), a multinational corporation seeking to make money from ventures previously considered "non-profit". With OCP's plans to level Detroit and build a glittering new Delta City looming in the near future, and an increasingly disgruntled police force threatening to strike, a new kind of police officer is needed: one that does not eat, or sleep, and always follows orders...

The opportunity arrives when Officer Alex Murphy (Peter Weller), is horrifically slain on his first day after relocation to a new precinct by psychotic crime boss Clarence Boddicker. Three months and millions of dollars later, Murphy is resurrected as RoboCop, the ultimate cybernetic crime fighter, and proceeds to single-handedly slash crime levels in Old Detroit. However, it isn't long before fragments of Murphy's memories come back to haunt RoboCop, provoking him to seek revenge on his killers...

Is RoboCop merely a futuristic sci-fi action film? Or a personal human drama? A scathing satire on Reagan-era capitalism? An intensely black comedy? How about a modern reworking of the classic Frankenstein story? Or even a biblical allegory of Christ? The answer is that this film is all of these things, expertly combined by Dutch director Paul Verhoeven in his US debut to form a ridiculously entertaining, shockingly brutal and yet thought-provoking movie that has gone on to influence scores of films that followed. Little can be faulted: the script and direction are excellent, the score is superb and the acting is of a high standard. Peter Weller manages to convey real emotion despite the constraints of the suit, and Kurtwood Smith's turn as Boddicker must surely rank as one of Hollywood's greatest villainous performances. In short, see this film, or there will be... trouble.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Review by Iain Jackson
Written for EUFS Programme Autumn 2005