If we’ve learned anything from film history, it’s that machines will eventually take over the world, make us slaves, and the only way to stop it is with drugs or time travel. No one ever considers the downside to the whole technology as extension of the self. Brazilian sci-fi King Car posits a sentient automobile as harbinger of a new world order, appropriating Marxist ideology to its own sinister ends. It’s The Communist Manifesto as told by Herbie.
Born in the backseat en route to the hospital, young Uno (Pedro Jr.) discovers he can converse with cars, notably the one that “birthed” him. Eschewing the mantle of taking over his father’s taxi company in lieu of studies in agricultural ecology, Uno is drawn back to the family business when his father falls ill due to the passing of a new law, a “0 km” mandate that forbids cars over 15 years old. With the help of his mad genius uncle, Zé (Nachtergaele), Uno retrofits his taxi fleet, beginning with his best automo-buddy, now dubbed King Car. Given a voice (by Tavinho Teixeira) for all to hear, via Zé’s mechanical prowess, King Car begins indoctrinating the disenfranchised poor into revolution as their vehicles, and thus their livelihoods, are confiscated. As the movement grows, Amora (Pinheiro), Uno’s friend and
classmate, grows suspicious. “No car will give independence to the working class, Uno,” she cautions. When the power-hungry King begins extolling the virtues of cleansing the world by bringing about the death of time and space, Uno concedes that she may have a point.
King Car, while informed by any number of cinematic touchstones (Christine, Logan’s Run, Videodrome, Back to the Future, etc.), can be utterly charming in its own right, harnessing the spirit of plucky and resourceful youths facing a growing evil. But the film becomes increasingly overburdened with more ideas than it knows what to do with. From pineal glands capturing the electromagnetic thoughts of others aided by the phosphorus of hormones from fermented lentils and extreme pressure oils to butchering luxury cars for parts and using subversive tactics to avoid state compliance, there’s a lot going on in King Car, but not much resolved. (And if you’re tracking current cinema trends, you can score another mark next to “sex with car.”) The last act tries to cram it all in, but I suspect things got lost in the editing suite. Still, King Car has moxie and its heart is in the right place, even if it feels like dialectic materialism for motorheads.
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This article appears in January 7 • 2022.