O great American multitude, and sports fans everywhere.
Today we inaugurate the 20th annual Transcontinental Road Race.
Today the five bravest young men and women
in this bravest of nations
will risk their lives
in the greatest sporting event since the days of Spartacus.
Three days hence, a new American champion will be crowned,
for all the world to behold in awe,
in respect,
in fear.
All right, all right. This is Junior Bruce, your buddy-buddy and mine.
And I'll be giving you the blow-by-blow play-by-play
when the kings and queens of the open road roar onto the track.
Do I hear the sound of engines?
It's "Calamity" Jane Kelly, queen of the road,
at the wheel of that mean old ornery stud Bull.
Zany Janie, winner of this year's trials at Watkins Glen,
placed second in 1998
and led at last year's second lap until she went out with gear trouble.
Her fans and lovers everywhere wish Janie better luck this year.
My fans can wish me all the luck they want.
If my luck with my lovers gets any better, I'll miss the race completely.
Isn't that right, Pete?
With the start of the race only a heartthrob away,
this is Grace Pander on the spot - as usual -
to welcome the greatest racer of all time,
and a very dear friend of mine.
Yes, in just a moment he will be coming through the doors!
There is no cause for alarm.
The patient has been flown in from abroad in a state of suspended animation
in order to facilitate the healing of his recent limb transplants.
He should be coming around any moment now.
Oh, my... I don't believe it!
Frankenstein, can you give me an exclusive? How are things abroad?
How is Mr. President? Is he still in Moscow?
Mr. President is in his summer palace in Peking.
He loves everybody.
And everybody loves him.
- Sieg! - Heil!
Here she is, that adorable swastika sweetheart,
Matilda the Hun from Milwaukee!
And her lovable Nazi navigator, Herman "the German" Bock!
Matilda, Herman,
do you think this is your turn to be first and foremost in sunny California?
- Today, California. - Tomorrow, the world.
Hiya, Herman.
I hope your Buzz Bomb has a little more juice in its warhead this year.
Whoever named your car the Bull,
was only half right!
Frankenstein, will Mr. President fly in to crown the winner of the race?
Yes.
Is it true that with your new mechanical arm
you can shift gears in less than a twentieth of a second?
- Would you care to comment on that? - No.
How do you feel about going into the race with a navigator you've never met?
You'll love Annie. She's a red-hot sexpot.
She better be a red-hot navigator.
No more questions.
It's the Lion! And at the wheel, Ray "Nero the Hero" Lonnegan.
Never has finished the Transcontinental,
but three big wins in the provinces this season plus a brand-new beast
means Nero's not fiddling around.
Sit still, Cleopatra, and stop blocking me.
My fans wanna see me.
They've never seen a has-been before?
- Annie Smith? - Mr. Frankenstein.
I've checked out the car, and everything seems perfect.
- I have the route maps right here. - I will check them in a minute.
We will roll...
when everything seems perfect...
to me.
I've packed some high-protein capsules
and as many adrenaline tablets as I could find.
And I've also assembled a medical kit, just in case. I'm trained as a nurse.
I don't need a nurse. I need a navigator.
Mr. Frankenstein, you're very good at what you do,
and I'm very good at what I do.
We'll see.
And you know there's only one person who guns an engine like that.
It's gotta be the roughest tough guy of 'em all,
"Machine Gun" Joe Viterbo!
Here he comes - Machine Gun Joe.
Loved by thousands, hated by millions.
Only living previous winner except for Frankenstein.
Highest lifetime score after Frankenstein.
And he's certainly getting the welcome he deserves.
Joe doesn't look too happy, but you can't keep those Frankenstein fans down.
Lousy sons of bitches.
- Frankenstein? - Give it to them, Joe.
You want Frankenstein?
I'll give you Frankenstein.
Yeah!
Here he comes! Here he comes!
Frankenstein!
Frankenstein the legend! Frankenstein the indestructible!
Sole survivor of the titanic pileup of '95.
Only two-time winner of the Transcontinental Road Race.
Frankenstein -
ripped up, wiped out, battered, shattered, creamed and reamed!
A dancer on the brink of death.
Frankenstein, who lost a leg in '98, an arm in '99.
With half a face and half a chest and all the guts in the world, he's back!
God only knows what he looks like under that mask, but he is back.
In the name of Mr. President, America loves you, Frankenstein.
You will regret that, Joe.
Stay tuned, racing fans.
T- video satellite will bring every mile of thrills and spills into your living room.
All five cars are in starting position here at New York Memorial Raceway,
ready to roll.
Now we take you to the Summer Palace. And Mr. President.
My children,
whom I love so dearly,
it has been my duty
in the long and difficult years
since the world crash of '79
to serve you as best I could.
Never before in history have the masses forgone all comfort
so that the spirit of genius might thrive
and seek the golden key to a new time of plenty
in the fertile field of minority privilege.
And now. my children. The drivers are ready. The world is waiting.
Once more, I give you what you want.
Good morning, Americans. Once again the race is under way,
with 12-hour pit stops scheduled at St Louis
and Albuquerque, home of the American Indian Museum.
At this very moment the cars are howling through the streets of Manhattan,
but no points have been scored as yet.
Take it away. Junior Bruce.
They're at the Lincoln Tunnel.
With Frankenstein and Joe running neck and neck.
Then it's the Lion. Driven by... Passed by Calamity Jane in the Bull.
Moving into third place.
All right, and hey, hey, hey!
The cars have split up, the drivers taking off on their favorite routes.
Frankenstein's still out in front. Headed due west.
With Nero the Hero on his tail hoping to pick up his leftovers.
Calamity Jane's on a northwest tack.
Matilda's Buzz Bomb is trying to catch up with Machine Gun Joe.
Now streaking southwest.
Once again - Mr. President.
I have made the United Provinces of America
the greatest power in the known universe.
I have also given you
the most popular sporting event in the history of mankind -
the Transcontinental Road Race.
Which upholds the American tradition
of no holds barred!
"No holds barred. "
That's how he got to be president.
Hypocrite pig! What about our ultimatum?
He's been laughing us off for 15 years.
Passive resistance means nothing to him.
Pick up that flag, young man.
It's time for action.
It is not a time for violence.
Mrs. Paine, I love Annie as much as you do.
But she's no match for Frankenstein, and we can't risk letting him get away.
Frankenstein is the biggest target in the world and a friend of Mr. President.
That, Lieutenant Fury, is exactly why they'll call off the race. To save his life.
My granddaughter will succeed.
Don't you ever take off that mask?
No. Don't you know about my face?
I've heard stories.
Nobody's ever seen it, have they?
Except my other navigators.
And they're all dead.
So they are.
They say you lost most of your jaw in the crash of '92.
And my right eye in '95,
and my nose and my left eye in '97,
and most of my cranium in '98.
I'm held together with patches of plastic and steel plates.
It's not a pretty sight.
You wanna see?
Why not? I've seen everything else.
Remember, you're doing this on your own. I take no responsibility.
What'd you expect? Another pretty face?
- They really love you, Joe. - Yeah?
Then how come they ain't down here on the road provin' it?
Hey, you better make this left turn. You'll shave off about 2 miles that way.
Yeah, all right.
All right, all right and yes, siree!
A clean hit! A perfect hit! And no pain for the target.
Too bad the guy was only 38.
Just two years older, he'd have been worth three times the points.
But, for the second year in a row,
Machine Gun Joe has splattered the scoreboard first.
How'd you like that, huh? Get off on that one, Myra, baby?
- What's the matter with this engine? - I don't know. Sounds fine to me.
Amateurs.
Get back there and retard the spark four... uh, three degrees.
I'm glad to see you were able to find your way back.
As the cars roar into Pennsylvania. The cradle of liberty.
It seems apparent that our citizens are staying off the streets.
Which may make scoring particularly difficult.
Even with this year's rule changes.
To recap those revisions -
women are still worth 10 points more than men in all age brackets.
But teenagers now rack up 40 points.
And toddlers under 12
now rate a big 70 points.
The big score - anyone. Any sex. Over 75 years old
has been upped to 100 points.
As always.
How fast you move determines how long you live.
Toro!
A beautiful kill! A neat kill!
No calamities for Jane today. No, sir.
And you can bet she'll be getting both ears for that one.
What is that?
Euthanasia day at the geriatrics hospital. They do it every year.
Here he comes! He's coming!
Frankenstein scores! Frankenstein scores at last!
But what kind of a score, boys and girls?
Just 110 points out of a possible big 700. What do you think about that, Gracie?
Well, those doctors - dear friends of mine -
have been pretty smug all these years, setting up the old folks.
Frankenstein must have decided it was their turn.
Which only goes to show that even the fearsome Frankenstein
has a 100% red-blooded American sense of humor.
Annie saved those old people! And she'll deliver Frankenstein.
Meanwhile, innocent people are being slaughtered on our highways.
They're like Christians being thrown to the gladiators.
But just remember, the Christians won.
Did they, Mrs. Paine?
I take it from your attire that your sabotage operations are being carried out,
despite my wishes?
Mrs. Paine, we're set to hit 'em with everything we've got.
Then. In the name of humanity.
Let Operation Anti-Race begin.
How in hell are we supposed to score in this graveyard?
You're the navigator. That's your problem.
And think of something soon, or else you're gonna be out on your ass.
It isn't my fault everyone scored before us.
You should have hit that boy scout camp like I told you.
I tried the goddammed boy scout camp.
You know how fast those boy scouts move?
Now, here's something more your speed.
Gotta be at least 200 points.
If they scatter, go for the baby and the mother.
Come on! Quick! Quick!
Go for the baby! The baby!
That's it. Come get baby.
Bye-bye, baby. Hello, 70 points.
Hey! I'm off the air!
Would you please take your places?
Put Grace on with an interview, right now.
Hello, ladies. Isn't this just the most exciting race in years?
I certainly think so.
And guess what - I have a surprise for you.
Mrs. Rhonda Bainbridge, in person, on my show.
The widow of Edward Bainbridge, whom, as we all know,
was "Machine Gun" Joe Viterbo's first score.
Welcome to my home. And may I call you Rhonda?
Please do, Mrs. Pander.
- Are we about ready here? - Yeah, just about.
Listen, we have to go right away.
As the widow of the race's first score.
You have won a high-style two-room apartment in Acapulco!
Start the jam!
And next year you will be watching the race
on a 50-inch three-dimensional octaphonic T-video set...
Fellow oppressed Americans.
The execution of the barbarian killer Nero the Hero
is the people's first stroke
against the evil and corrupt regime of Mr. President.
I am Thomasina Paine,
founder and commander of the army of the resistance.
For 20 years. Americans have been told when to eat and when to sleep.
When to love and when to hate.
The age of obedience is over.
In the names of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Harry Truman,
I call upon you to stand up for your inalienable rights.
We declare war upon the Bipartisan Party, on Mr. President,
and on that most inhuman desecration of life and liberty,
the Transcontinental Road Rape.
I thank you.
- What the hell was that? - I have no information.
- Is this race still on? - I have no information.
- What do you think? - About what?
About that speech.
Adds spice to the race.
"Spice"? They've killed Nero.
That would have got more points for me.
Don't you understand?
They've declared war on the race and on you. Aren't you worried?
The only thing that worries me is "Machine Gun" Joe Viterbo.
Is winning all you care about?
Yes. It's the only standard of excellence left.
- Come on. Here they come. - It's not finished.
Come on!
Look at that stupid hole right in the middle.
They won't get through there.
Blitzkrieg!
As the drivers converge from their routes and head for the first pit stop in St. Louis.
Machine Gun Joe is still leading the field.
With Frankenstein second. Calamity Jane third.
Leaving Matilda the Hun in fourth position
and Calamity Jane facing another calamity!
Right now. Frankenstein's score points put him just ahead of Joe...
Hey! Get off the rope. Jesus Chrysler, get off the rope!
Hey, dummy, come on over and hold the ladder.
This aggravates me.
Where's the one that says "Welcome Joe Viterbo"?
Score the son of a bitch, Joe. You need every point you can get.
I only mashed him slightly.
- Put him out of his misery, Joe. - Is that fair?
- Yeah! - Hey. Should I let him go?
Fair's always right.
One thing before we begin.
The government would like it if nobody said anything about Nero. Understand?
He hit a tree, and that's it. Got it?
- We don't wanna depress anybody by... - Hey, hey.
Everybody knows he was blown up by the resistance, you schmuck.
It was on television.
If you wanna drive again next year, Mr. Viterbo, keep those opinions to yourself.
OK. Go ahead.
This is Grace Pander from St Louis,
where Matilda - a dear friend of mine -
is receiving a well-deserved rub down.
Tell me, Tilly, darling,
what can we expect from you when the cars go back on the road?
You can expect a victory...
by a member of the master race.
A woman.
Tilly, darling, that certainly is showing a lot of confidence
for someone who's lying fourth out of four.
She doesn't mind, as long as she's lying somewhere.
When I'm through with you, you're gonna be lying in state.
If anybody is going to boot hill, it's you and your Bizz Bang.
- Buzz Bomb. - Shut up.
You just leave my navigator alone.
Girls, girls, girls. Remember you're on TV-land.
Pete, how do you like being a navigator?
Well, Junior, I'd like it more if I was in the driver's seat.
You'll get what's coming to you on the road.
Oh, yeah?
What's coming to me is the final solution to the cowgirl problem.
Frankenstein, when are you gonna make your move?
Are you gonna take off-road chances for scores,
or are you driving all-out to be first into New L. A?
It's not about winning, it's how you play the game.
Frankenstein - a dear friend of mine.
Frankenstein, tell me how it feels when, at that electric instant, at 200 mph,
life and death coexist at the moment of scoring.
If you stand in the middle of Route 66 tomorrow morning at eight o'clock,
you can answer that question for yourself.
What are you doing? Get away from me. Joe will go nuts!
Just tell him I was whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
Well, Myra, what did Frankenstein have to say to you?
H- h-h-he didn't say anything. He...
- What'd he say? - Nothing...
- What'd he say?! - Nothing!
I'm not playing games, Myra. I wanna know what he said.
He said there was nothing sweet in my ear.
"In my ear. "
What do you want?
My name is Laurie, Mr. Frankenstein.
I'm head of Chapter Seven, St Louis Lovers of Frankenstein.
- I was chosen from over 100 girls... - To offer me your body? Is that it?
You want me because I drive the Monster and wear this costume.
No, Mr. Frankenstein. That wouldn't be fair to your navigator.
It's taken her years of hard work to earn that privilege.
Besides, we understand your feelings.
What do you know of my feelings?
Everything. Like...
Like why you're afraid of falling in love.
And why winning the race means everything to you.
How do you know these things?
From my dreams, partly.
And from letters I get from other fans.
Plus the club subscribes to an astrology service.
Well, if you're not here to offer me your body, what do you want?
I wanted to meet you, Mr. Frankenstein. I wanted you to know who I am.
So it would have meaning.
I don't understand.
So what would have meaning?
We love you, Mr. Frankenstein. I know just saying it doesn't mean much.
Why do you love me? Because I kill people?
Scoring isn't killing, Mr. Frankenstein. It's part of the race.
You're a national hero, and we want you to know we're with you 100%.
Good night, Mr. Frankenstein.
I didn't hear you come in.
Who were you expecting? Machine Gun Joe?
I thought I could trust you.
You really just don't wanna give me a chance, do you?
I was trying to help you.
I'm... sorry.
You're what?
Sorry.
He wanted to know our route, so I told him to go down 54
through the Cimarron Valley.
54 is a dead end. Leads nowhere.
That's right. And if Joe takes it, he's sunk.
The only way Joe will take that road is if he sees us do it first.
Or if he's ahead of us.
- Is that the arm that came off in '98? - Mm-hm.
And...
which one of those obviously perfect legs was it that came off in '99?
The right.
And the left one was just broken in six places and burned down to the bone.
- Is that right? - Mm-hm.
It's a miracle you can still walk.
Do you like to dance?
Those Swiss mechanics sure did a good job on you.
What else did they replace?
Wait a minute...
and I'll show you.
O Mr. President, bless thy children and make them strong.
Bless thy daughters Matilda and Jane, and thy son Joe.
And bless thy beloved son, the immortal Frankenstein,
who has given so much pleasure to so many.
The hell with Frankenstein. What about Joe Viterbo?
The flag is down and they're away,
with Machine Gun Joe blasting into the lead
on this second lap of the great Transcontinental Road Race.
Frankenstein is making a left turn, splitting early from the pack.
Look out, all you folks just south of here.
Gee, Joe, there's nobody even close behind us.
Shh.
Where's he going? What's he doing?
- Hey, where are we going? - I dropped my glove.
Let not the ruin of thy robes destruct the tires...
Jesus Chrysler!
Ladies and gentlemen, by a bizarre accident
Frankenstein has killed our cherished colleague
the deacon of the Bipartisan Party.
I think you did that on purpose.
Have to give the fans something to talk about.
It's my obligation as a national hero.
Frankenstein's score is now... Does that score count, Harold?
An interesting point, Junior, and one that may set a significant precedent.
Can a racer score a race official?
Ooh, and after all those nice things he said about him.
It don't matter. It don't count. You can't score religious personalities.
The word "deacon" has been handed down to us from the ancient... the, uh...
Frankenstein's score has been approved for 50 points.
The confirmation has just been handed to me. You know what that means, Junior?
That means that the race officials from coast to coast will be falling like flies.
- Frankenstein! Agh! I hate him. I hate him. - Oh, sh...
You're salivating.
Oh, my... Why did she do that?
To show me she loves me.
Here they come. Let's get set.
Chicken game.
- Chicken in a basket. - Chicken in a casket.
Oh, shit!
Yeah, hey. Who got the last laugh now, huh?
- The turnoff, it's coming up. - Should I take it?
- Who gives a goddamn shit? - Should I?
She says I should, so I should, right? Or should I? I don't know.
I don't think you should. I think it's definitely a trick.
I'll do it. I won't do it. I'd be a schmuck to do it.
I did it and I'm no schmuck!
- That's your story. - That's right. That's right.
And I see you mess with Frankenstein again, I'm really gonna bust your eye.
What do you mean, "really"?
I have an almost unlimited score possibility, but it's pretty far down the road.
District penitents' compound.
All those old congressmen chained up. They'd be like sitting ducks.
Yeah, and all I gotta do is drive through a cyclone fence. Uh-uh.
Look, the farther west we go, the fewer targets there'll be.
Hey, come on.
Joe's already on his way to a dead end, and the other two...
OK.
Take the next right.
Now, as soon as the car gets within range, I shall give the signal.
We'll have just under a minute after they reach the turnoff. Lieutenant Fury...
Lieutenant Fury has nothing whatever to do with this.
I want none of his surprises here.
I could stand for a surprise. Like if your Frankenstein didn't show up.
Don't worry. He'll show.
What's our estimated time of arrival in Albuquerque?
Well, I'm not sure. I mean, this detour is gonna make a difference.
Haven't you calculated our time of arrival?
I did, but I couldn't take into consideration...
- Take what into consideration? - Frankenstein! Stop the car!
Hold on.
- What the hell? - Don't stop now. What are you doing?
What are they doing?
Sorry, brother.
If that's the best the resistance can do, we got nothing to worry about.
I guess not.
One thing I can't figure out
is why would they bother to dress that guy up to look like me?
Maybe he was a fan.
Who built this stinkin' road? If I ever get my hands on him, I'll rip his heart out.
I mean it! I'm sick of this race and I'm sick of you!
I guess it must have been Joe that set us up for that ambush, don't you think?
Got in touch with those guys and told them where we were going?
I guess it might have been.
But then how the hell did Joe know we were gonna take a detour?
Maybe it was those guys on the pit crew in St. Louis.
Took your book out of the car while you were getting massaged.
I didn't leave my book in the car.
- You didn't, huh? - No.
Well, then, I guess it couldn't have been them.
- Who do you think it was? - I have no idea.
Why do you care? They didn't get you.
Us. They didn't get us. We're a team, remember?
Come on over to my side. You're gonna drive for a while.
Why? I'm not trained as a driver.
Never mind why. Just do as I tell you.
I'm counting on you to make a nice big score for us.
Sure.
Anything special in mind?
Something'll turn up.
I'm sure that it will.
Jesus H Christ! I'll kill that broad!
- What did I do? - Shut your face.
Cornball, what's the fastest way through here?
Well, um... actually, the only way we do it is we get a bulldozer
and we trim this edge down here and we drive through.
No, what's the best way between here and Albuquerque?
- You got to go back to the main highway. - I'll lose 45 minutes!
I've seen you before. I'm one of your greatest fans, you know that?
I follow all of the races. I got pictures of you all over the outhouse.
I named my favorite dog after you, Mr. Frankenstein. I did.
Lousy stinkin' dirt ball. You got two seconds to live.
Come on, Pete, honey. You gonna take all day with that?
I wanna get on the road, make a few more scores. My blood lust is fading.
Almost finished, Calamity, sweetheart. We'll be back on the road in no time,
then we'll cream that Nazi's ass for her.
What'd you say? I...
Blitzkrieg!
You lousy bitch! I'll kill you for that!
Nobody scores my navigator and gets away with it.
Uh-oh.
Here she comes. And boy, is she pissed.
What does she expect? You leave your navigator lying around,
naturally somebody's gonna run over him.
She's gaining on us, momma, and she's got murder on her mind.
Schnell. Meine kleine Buzz Bomb.
- That's good. - All right, on three. One, two, three.
Support it. Easy. Steady as she goes.
Here they come!
A detour. I really needed that right now.
Holy shit.
A special bulletin. There's been an accident. An explosion.
It looks like Matilda has been blown totally...
Correction. Matilda has made an impressive score. Stand by.
Don't you wanna take over now? I'm afraid I'm making us lose an awful lot of time.
You're doing just fine.
- Looks like an easy score. - Yeah. Yeah, it does.
It's always best to start small.
- I missed him. - It takes some practice.
- Before it comes easy? - It never comes easy.
Keep your eyes on the road.
How far is it to the penitents' compound?
Oh, maybe 20 miles.
Stop the car.
Get out.
Out.
Come to the other side.
Around the front.
Where is the penitents' compound?
It's in Japan.
Get in.
I could just push you out of this car and pick up a quick 30 points.
Who are you? Who are you working for?
I'm Thomasina Paine's granddaughter.
I'm honored.
So you were gonna capture me and replace me with that goon back there.
What for?
He was going to deliver our ultimatum to Mr. President.
Your life in exchange for the permanent abolition of the race.
She was a great. Dear friend of mine.
And I shall remember her forever. Howling down that freeway in the sky.
Knocking over the angels.
The valiant Hun's demise was in fact caused by enemies of the people.
There will be a special broadcast by Mr. President at 1900 hours.
Stay tuned to find out how you can help Mr. President preserve our way of life...
Calamity, turn off the television.
Hey, you guys wanna stop playing that song, please?
Look, this is a race, a sporting event, not a daredevil stunt. I want some protection.
You should have given us an escort after Nero got it.
Joe would score the escort, wouldn't you, baby?
You wanna zip your lip, Myra? Huh? Now, are you going to cover me or not?
Look, Mr. Viterbo, if you're afraid to go on with the race, why don't you quit?
You're calling me a turkey?
If you ask me, you're all making excuses for poor driving.
Poor driving?! Listen, honey. Matilda the Hun was a champion driver.
Nobody could've scored my navigator and gotten away with it.
And he's talking about poor driving!
I'd like to see you do it. I've been driving for ten years. Nobody talks to me like this.
- This stinks. - It's all on account of the rebels.
Who mentioned anything about rebels? There are no rebels. Understand?
Then who was that old lady on the television?
Thomasina Paine. She's a harmless lunatic.
Would you please come outside, sir? We like to ask you a few questions.
- Come on, Annie. - Alone, if you don't mind.
Mr. President will explain those accidents during his address to the nation.
- How did she jam the networks? - And bump off our friends?
She didn't bump off anybody. She walked into a television station waving a gun,
forced them to put her on the air. We've taken her back to the asylum. That's it.
- I got just two words to say about that. - Oh?
Bull shit!
Excuse me.
Hey! I told you to stop playing that song!
You forget, Joe, that I'm a representative of Mr. President's government.
I happen to hold the power of life and death.
Yeah? Well, I happen to hold the clam sauce.
Look out, Viterbo. You may be the second biggest clown in this circus,
but if I want you dead, you're dead.
- Second biggest? - Sit down and eat!
I told you to stop playing that music!
Were they armed, or did they expect the fire to be enough to stop you?
I don't know what they expected. We just ran through it all and kept going.
One more question, Mr. Frankenstein.
Did you take that particular road on your own initiative,
or on the advice of your navigator?
On my own initiative.
Thank you, Mr. Frankenstein. That will be all.
There has been a lot of talk about American rebels.
We have positive proof
that it was none other than the treacherous French
who have been sabotaging our great race.
Just as they and their stinking European allies
have undermined and destroyed our great national economy.
It is no coincidence. My dear children.
That the word "sabotage" was invented by the French.
- Where's Annie? - I don't know.
Hey, did you hear the news?
Mr. President said it was the French who knocked off Nero and Matilda.
Watch out for the crêpe suzettes.
... "Machine Gun" Joe Viterbo and Frankenstein.
As they begin the last lap of their long and difficult journey
toward New Los Angeles.
Drop your keys?
I was just looking for something I lost.
The race?
Look, Joe...
I threw you off course, OK?
All's fair in love and war.
I'm glad to hear you say that, Annie, because what we got goin' here
definitely ain't love.
Well, then, why don't we just forget about it?
You know, Annie, it's too bad things ain't like they were in the old days,
when we'd just take somebody in an alley and blow their brains out. You know?
- Joe, please. - Go ahead and scream, Annie.
- You're hurting me, Joe. - There's nobody to hear you.
Huh?
How does it feel to know you're gonna spend the rest of your life in pain?
The rest of your life is about a minute and a half.
Frankie. Glad you came. I caught your navigator screwin' around with the car,
so I thought I'd come down and have a look at what was going on.
Hey, come on, Frank...
Upstairs.
So much for a fair fight.
Next chance I get, you're dead.
What were you doing? Getting more secret instructions from the lunatic fringe?
Why don't you just turn me in and get it over with?
No need to.
You've blown your cover. You're no threat to me.
Anyway, you're not someone I would throw away.
- I have a job to do. - Your job is a waste of time.
The world doesn't wanna be saved.
I'm giving you a chance to save one small part of it.
Yourself.
Who are you anyway?
Nobody.
I was brought up in a government training centre to be what I am -
Frankenstein, the best driver on earth. This year.
They use one up, they bring in another.
- But I will be the last of the line. - Oh, who's kidding who?
I never kid.
Why don't you ever take off that glove?
What's underneath it?
It's my secret.
You and the Swiss doctors again?
There are no Swiss doctors.
Just native... American... know-how.
- Have you checked the oil? - Yes.
- Have you checked the hydraulics? - An hour ago.
- Brakes? Tires? Water? - Yeah, they're OK. Everything's OK.
Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to sabotage the car.
You get a load of that face?
I wonder if somebody got points for that eye.
Listen, Frankenstein, there's just you, me and Joe left in the race, and...
Well, I just want you to know that whoever wins and whatever happens,
it's been really grand racin' with you folks.
I also wanna say that I think you make a real nice couple.
- Thank you, Jane. - Good luck.
Joe, Myra,
I just wanna say, whatever happens, whoever wins...
Hey, save it for the French.
The cars have started, lined up, and are ready to roll on the last lap.
They're off! Frankenstein... Holy Chrysler!
Joe has just scored his own pit crew!
You lousy sons of bitches! That'll teach you!
"Machine Gun" Joe Viterbo, that funny man from Chicago,
has scored his own mechanics for 40 points,
and is off to catch Calamity Jane and Frankenstein.
Screw you, Joe Viterbo, and your mother!
We'll see who gets to New L.A. First, with the highest score too.
It's coming up on the left.
Forget it. I'm keeping Frankie in my sights.
He's got five minutes on us, and he's stretching it.
So what? If there's trouble up ahead, he'll find it first.
Oh, yeah. Take a look at your face. You'll find it first.
You know, Myra, some people might think you're cute.
But me, I think you're one very large baked potato.
Roaring down Motorway 66 towards California,
Frankenstein looks certain to be first across the line.
But Machine Gun Joe is still way ahead on points,
and he could win the race even by arriving second in New Los Angeles.
What's your prediction, Grace?
You know, Junior, when Machine Gun Joe was just a little boy in Chicago,
he had a pet snake that he used to love to ride over with his tricycle.
- Break out the thermos of hi-pro drink. - Coming right up.
- Here. I didn't mean to hog it all. - Thanks. What flavor is it?
- Vanilla. - Hm. Not my favorite.
This isn't vanilla. It's peach or something.
Yeah, well, my taste buds got wiped out in the crash of '97.
It's a good thing mine that are still intact. At least the French can't poison us.
What's Frankenstein's location now?
He's about 50 miles out, Lieutenant, and coming fast.
Goodbye, Mrs. Paine. When you see me again, Frankenstein will be my prisoner
and the country will know we must be taken seriously.
- Fury, wait. I'm coming with you. - No, Mrs. Paine, it's too dangerous.
Nonsense. I've waited 20 years for this moment.
I know I can't join you on the mission,
but I want to see you pull it off with my own eyes.
Couple of turnoffs coming up. What's the quickest way to New L. A?
- That's funny. - What?
I can't... I can't seem to focus my eyes on the map.
I think we stay on 7... I feel like I'm gonna pass out.
Look at that.
- It's them, isn't it? - Please... please, stop the car.
Sorry. We're in a race.
Frankenstein, stop right now. We wanna talk to you.
Stop before I force you to.
I'll bomb you to a halt if I have to.
Annie, help me. Turn off the engine.
Annie's dead, Mrs. Paine. He must have killed her.
Now I'm really going to let him have it.
Look at that. The rebels are sure giving it to Frankenstein.
Thank you, rebels. Mary, I think we got this race won.
- Aren't we gonna help him? - Are you nuts or something?
I'm getting my ass out of here before they make an emergency landing. Sit down.
Attagirl.
Well, America, there you have it.
Frankenstein has just been attacked by the French air force,
and he's whipped their derrières.
His point total for this one'll be something astronomical.
Machine Gun Joe better watch out.
- Right on schedule. - Hey, what happened?
I slipped you a 30-minute sleepex.
Didn't want you doing something we would both regret.
Did they attack us?
According to the radio, we were attacked by the French air force.
Was the plane shot down?
Even those Swiss doctors couldn't have helped them.
I'm sorry. I know they were your people. But I can't let anything stop me now.
They didn't expect you to give up easily.
They were prepared for whatever happened.
Oh, my God, you've been hit!
I'll make it.
I'm sorry things worked out this way.
- It's not over yet. - I'm afraid it is.
Hey!
What the hell do you think you're doing?
It doesn't make any difference what happens to me.
That is the dumbest, sorriest thing I've ever heard you say.
I don't believe you've got a drop of Thomasina Paine's blood in your body.
The minute things get rough, you close your eyes and try to drive us off a cliff.
If you'd just stop trying to kill me for a minute, I need your help.
How can you possibly expect me to help you?
You're my navigator.
You're the only one who knows where you're going.
I mean, whose side are you on anyway?
I thought the only thing you cared about was winning the race.
Sure. Only the winner of the race gets to shake hands with Mr. President.
- Is that a grenade? - A hand grenade.
That handshake is all I've lived for for as long as I can remember.
No, wait a minute. I don't want you to die.
It's my life's work.
Why do you wanna win this race so bad?
Why do I wanna win this race? In the name of hate.
One big victory for hate.
Give me your hand. Give me your hand!
- Hey, stop. Will you stop the car? - Shut up! What is that?
It's a hand. Will you stop the goddamn car? Stop the car!
You're going to have to shift the gears for me now.
The only thing that worries me
is how am I going to shake hands with Mr. President?
Mr. President's the one who should be worried now.
He's coming! Can you hear that engine? Still in perfect tune.
Here he is - the one and only three-time winner
and sole survivor of the 20th annual Transcontinental Road Race,
none other than Frankenstein himself!
And now Mr. President.
Our enemy, the French,
have destroyed nearly all our gallant racers.
Just as they have crippled our once-great economy,
and wrecked our telephone system.
But even they, in all their evil power,
were not able to destroy Frankenstein,
who is the embodiment of our national virtue
and therefore indestructible.
It is fitting that Frankenstein should be the one chosen by your president
to lead you in this war against the French which I now decree.
Frankenstein has been shot! There is a French spy in our midst!
Guards, seize that woman!
Frankenstein, are you all right?
Annie!
Frankenstein...
Frankenstein! Frankenstein! Frankenstein! Frankenstein! Frankenstein!
Frankenstein! Frankenstein! Frankenstein! Frankenstein!
Mr. And Mrs. President Frankenstein - dear friends of mine -
can you tell us what your first official acts will be?
I plan to pension off the secret police, restore free elections,
end minority privilege, and move the seat of government back to New Los Angeles.
We've been governed from abroad long enough.
Mr. President, is it true that you are now accepting rebels into your government?
Well, since I have accepted one into my house...
President Frankenstein has appointed my great-grandmother, Thomasina Paine,
in view of her experience in the field, as the minister for domestic security.
And I plan to deal very harshly with rebels.
Anybody who is unhappy with happiness can go find someplace else to live.
- What about the race? - The race is abolished.
- Abolished? - That's right.
We feel that the country no longer needs this gratuitous display of violence
to show the world that its virility is still intact.
Mr. President, isn't it true that as a racer your popularity depended on violence?
I'm afraid I shall have to let my press secretary answer that question.
Stop annoying Mr. President with impertinent questions, Junior.
It's the race, man.
President Frankenstein, you can't call off the race.
The American people won't stand for it!
Get out of the way, Junior.
The race is the symbol of everything we hold dear - our American way of life.
Sure, it's violent. But that's the way we love it.
Violent, violent, violent. And that's why we love you!
Frank, do we have to listen to this?
No.
As to this matter of violence.
The technique of violence was first developed in 2.000.000 BC
by the Australopithecines.
A tribe of four-foot primates who had no brains to speak of.
But who. Nevertheless. Invented the tomahawk and used it on each other.
This practice led to the enlargement of the brain - another useful weapon.
Yes. Murder was invented even before man began to think.
Now. of course. Man has become known as the thinking animal.