The History of Robocop - IGN
IGN
Details of the films, comics, games and TV shows, plus a wrestling cameo.
By Tom Hawker
Part man, part machine, all cop. Now that’s a tagline. One of RoboCop’s best kept secrets was that it was a simple idea executed brilliantly, a fact that its sequels failed to grasp. But cinema’s favourite knight in shining blue titanium armour is rising from the dead once more this week, with The Killing’s Joel Kinnaman providing the mighty chin required for the job. But before you head to the cinemas to check out the new model, here’s the RoboCop story so far. You have 20 seconds to comply…
Trailer
RoboCop: The Movie
In the beginning there was a robot, a futuristic car and an amazing sci-fi cop movie. And that movie was 1982’s Blade Runner . As lowly studio script reader Ed Neumeier schlepped past the futuristic set where Ridley Scott’s classic tale of a robot-hunting cop was being filmed, Neumeier hit upon the idea of a robotic cop that busted humans.
This was the central concept that Neumeier and co-writer Michael Miner, having stirred in a vicious satire of 80s Reaganomics, flogged to Orion Pictures. Getting a director to bite on the project though was another problem altogether. Most credible names in the business couldn’t get past that title.
This was why the script was languishing in Paul Verhoeven’s bin as the unimpressed director hunted for an American project, having had his funding pulled by the Dutch government who found his enthusiastic approach to dramatic plots, fleshy sex and bloody violence not to their political liking. It was Verhoeven’s wife who fished RoboCop out of the trash and convinced the director to take a second look.
Verhoeven soon started putting his own prints on the project: a big splatter of visceral religious imagery. Detective Alex Murphy now spreads what’s left of his arms during The Passion Of The Murphy, the prolonged shotgun ‘crucifixion’ that leads to his chrome resurrection. It’s no coincidence that the ‘American Jesus’ appears to be walking on water as he prepares to improvise a tracheotomy on Clarence Boddicker.
The guy inside the suit could certainly feel this pain. Peter Weller’s first attempt to get into the suit took 11 hours, at which point the actor realized that all the miming that he’d spent months rehearsing was a complete waste of time. Filming had to grind to a halt so he could work out how to move in the outfit. He’d lose three pounds a day in liquid under the intense Dallas heat.
Weller wasn’t the only one sweating though. The production delays meant the movie accelerated past the $13m budget, while it took 11 visits to the MPAA to get the R-rating Orion required, cutting down some of the movie’s key scenes – Murphy’s murder and the lunk-headed ED-209’s OTT massacre of poor Omni Consumer Products’ executive Mr Kinney – nullifying Verhoeven’s heightened intent.
Not that this bothered the crowds who spent the summer of 1987 checking out cinema’s newest superhero (to the tune of $53 million), and the reasons why are still pretty clear today. It’s intense, furious, funny, quotable, tragic and tight - a movie that’s as well put together as its central character, who rolled off the assembly line as a fully formed cinematic icon.
The Sequels
The guys in charge of Orion Cinematic Products were delighted to have such a floggable commodity. There were the usual tie-in games, comics, toys and bizarre promo activities: Robo met boy scouts with Richard Nixon and then saved wrestler Sting from the clutches of the Four Horseman at WCW’s Capital Combat 90 event (“Woah, what strength by RoboCop!”).
The latter was part of the build up for the inevitable RoboCop 2 (1990), rushed into production like a greedy OCP exec towards a coke-dappled cleavage. Despite being locked into a Summer 1990 release date, it had no script or director, with writers Ed Neumeier and Michael Miner striking like an Old Detroit copper and Paul Verhoeven opting to get his ass to Mars instead. But to be fair to Orion, their solution initially sounded pretty shiny.
Frank Miller - comics' hottest property thanks to The Dark Knight Returns - was drafted in to do the words, while Empire Strikes Back director Irvin Kershner would pick up the megaphone. But this fangasm was swiftly undercut by Orion, who dumped most of the inexperienced Miller’s ‘unfilmable’ script as well as Kersh’s stabs at deepening the characters - removing scenes that saw Robo explore his humanity - in favour of straight-ahead action.
Rewatching RoboCop 2, you’re struck by stray interesting ideas that seem to go nowhere – the dehumanization of Murphy, the suicidal RoboCop 2 prototypes - and the amazing stop-motion work of Phil Tippett. But you’re left with the bitter aftertaste of a mean-spirited mess that makes up for its lack of soul and completely misjudged tone with a ferocious level of violence. The thoroughly unsatisfied Irwin Kershner never directed another movie.
It’s this sort of bright corporate thinking that explains why Orion found itself going the same way as Murphy’s right hand. Desperately seeking money, the company decided to aim RoboCop 3 (1994) squarely at the kids who’d been enthusiastically buying the RoboMerch.
This was why Fred Dekker – who made cult-hit The Monster Squad – found himself directing a cutesy moppet ‘hacker’ and her now puppy-tame ED-209. The film was pieced together using discarded bits of Miller’s Robo2 script – the striking cops, the Japanese elements, the poverty rebels – while Hal Hartley regular Robert John Burke replaced the disillusioned Weller in the outfit.
But while it’s tricky to exactly pinpoint the worst bit of Robo 3, it’s certainly fun to speculate. Could it be the terrible bug-eyed acting? The sheer amateurish feel of the whole thing? That bit when CCH Pounder dies with the subtlety of a first grader at the school panto? The fact that Robo spends the whole movie falling over like a pissed unicyclist with a puncture? The terrible CGI of the flying sequence? The rubbish robot ninjas? Oh alright then, it’s the rubbish robot ninjas.
Orion’s financial troubles meant the movie sat on the shelf for two years. Of course, the kids instantly sniffed out the cynical marketing plot immediately and promptly Meh’d the RoboFranchise – and ultimately Orion pictures too – out of existence.
Fred Dekker hasn’t directed a movie since either.