Mind you, it does sport some fine Alberta Badlands scenery. Still, I wonder why the creators of this film overlooked a shining opportunity for an approximation of wit. In the fascist America of 14 years hence, private use of petroleum is not allowed. Who enforces this? Why, the DVC, the Department of Vehicle Control, represented by the surly chief, a plainly psychotic lackey, the woman who's secretly sympathetic to the rebels and a couple of other nondescript guys. Did nobody think that instead of the DVC, it should be have been... the DMV?
Ponder that, if you're ever bored enough to watch this.
Ponder that, if you're ever bored enough to watch this.