The narrative zigzags. The Tex-Mex muzak. The John-Wayne-was-a-fag wrangle. Perhaps the most surprising upshot from a double take at Alex Cox's 1984 cult is its status as a prime Tarantino reference. Motored by a goosechase after an alien in the boot of a 1964 Chevy, Emilio Estevez is terrific as beefhead Otto, a powder keg of insouciance who finds himself gripped in the clenched fist of a seedy repo agency who hotwire first, give the finger later.
Moving at comic-book speed and emphatically nailing the fatalistic voom of punk's last gasp, Cox ensures every scene comes with a pleasing tilt, a tart smart-mouth or a spontaneously combusting cop. Bloody funny too, and all set in the neon wilderness of LA's arse-end.