2019: After the Fall of New York
Mankind will prevail if it can survive the year 2019...
Year of Release: 1983
Also Known As: 2019 - Dopo la caduta di New York, 2019 apres la chute de New York
Genre: Science Fiction/Action
Rated: Not Rated
Running Time: 96 minutes (1:36)
Director: Sergio Martino
Michael Sopkiw ... Parsifal
Valentine Monnier ... Giara
Romano Puppo ... Ratchet
Paolo Maria Scalondro ... Bronx
Louis Ecclesia ... Shorty
George Eastman ... Big Ape
Anna Kanakis ... Eurac Officer Ania
After the nuclear holocaust, society breaks down into two groups, the evil Euraks and the rebel Federation. A mercenary named Persifal is hired by the Federation to infiltrate New York City and rescue the only fertile woman left on Earth. But with all the obstacles ahead, he will need to count on Big Ape, and the mysterious Ratchet to accomplish the mission, and save the human race from extinction.
2019: After the Fall of New York, the movie that asks the question: if we nuke the entire planet an sterilize mankind in the process, have we technically cured cancer?
Speakin' of things that'll destroy your immune system though - I just left the big annual New Year's bash at the Gutter Bowl an I ain't ashamed to tell ya my heebies're plum jeebied. Normally you can't hardly beat New Year's at the alley even though all we really do is get sloshed on Pole Cat beer an hang around waitin' for Fannie Ogglesby to climb up on the pool table an whip 'er clothes off, but I was too distracted to even enjoy *that* this year. I'm prolly not makin' much sense, so lemme start at the beginnin' - everything was fine to start with, the Pinultimates were playin' the Bowldozers in the first round of the women's league championships, Richard Fawner was tryin' to pick up drunks in his Madonna wig, an I was explainin' the subtle humor behind the bowlin' ball/wangdoodle scene from Screwballs to Cleave Furguson even though Cleave was focusin' all his attention on Roxanne Bigelow's bowlin' form, if you know what I mean. It wasn't until about 10pm when, outta nowhere, Deputy Mackle (the poor sucker who went missin' in the Sage Maze on Halloween an was previously presumed dead or feral) comes strollin' in wearin' a pheasant's nest on his head, preachin' the gospel of "The Formless One." I think he was talkin' about the Chickawalka Stalka since that's what he disappeared lookin' for that night, but it's hard to say on account of his brain bein' froze up colder'n Zach Galligan's VW Bug in Gremlins; in short, the man was crazier'n an outhouse rat, an after awhile he started claimin' the whatever-it-was'd "bestowed the gift of sight" to 'im like Zoltar the Magnificent. Course, as you might expect in a place with more churches than taxpayers, nobody was in a big hurry to get their palms read since that kinda thing might implicate you as a co-conspirator if the City Council were to burn Mackle at the stake for practicin' witchcraft, so he decided to go mingle awhile until folks warmed up to the idea of heresy.
Now I'm not the kinda guy who eavesdrops on people's conversations like some socially stunted call screener from the Department of Homeland Security, but I just happened to overhear Mackle tell Buck McGurk that "good fortune will be yours if you remain true to yourself."
This's where stuff started gettin' all Twilight Zoney, cause it wasn't more'n about 20 minutes later I spotted Buck kickin' the crap outta the Q*Bert machine in the arcade an cursin' the day Slick and Sam were programmed, when all the sudden the lock on the change receptacle snapped off an a coupla hundred bucks wortha quarters came spillin' out all over the carpet. Needless to say, Buck calmly an inconspicuously formed a bindle outta his AC/DC shirt, scooped up the pile an slunk outta there, an at the time I figured it was just a coincidence; after all, he's been kickin' that machine since 1984 - poor old thing just gave out, that's all. So I shrugged it off an went back to Lane 6 to get an update on the Pinultimates/Bowldozers game an partook of a few Pole Cats, only about 45 minutes later Mackle wanders over, sits down next to Cleave, an says: "what may seem like a misstep at first will lead you down the path of true happiness."
Know what happened not five minutes later? Cleave got up to go to the can, slipped on a chunka slush, flew up in the air like Wile E. Coyote in a Roadrunner cartoon, an whacked the back of his head on the ball return. He was blacked out for about 30 seconds or so, but whaddya suppose the first thing he saw was when he opened his eyes? That's right - Roxanne leanin' over 'im makin' a big fuss over a minor concussion. He'd been tryin' to get a date with her for six months an gotten nowhere; now, not two hours after Mr. Wizard promised 'im eternal happiness after a "misstep," he's prolly back at Roxanne's place doin' the breaststroke on 'er waterbed. This was no coincidence - no freakin' way, somehow Mackle'd gotten his brains jumbled into an astronomically impossible alignment like a 10-year-old kid screwin' with the cable box til the Playboy Channel unscrambles. I tried tellin' Otis Turlinger about it but he seemed to think that just cause I'd had 11 Pole Cats that my judgment might be impaired, so I went an sat down next to Billy Hilliard in the bar an told him about what'd gone on with Buck an Cleave, but he didn't believe me either.
"Guy'v cravy, vath 'ow. Fol' me ah 'vood fuffer a haowbreakeen loth, buh beweef ih mahfelf wouh fee me frew. Thah wuv a hour ago, ah nuffin," he shrugged.
Next thing I know, Dusty Funk's hootin' an hollerin' from the arcade entrance an comes runnin' over screamin': "Take THAT Hilliard! Took me 20 years and 23,914 quarters, but the high score's MINE!"
Billy was off his stool an in front of the Centipede machine in an instant an sure enough, Dusty'd knocked off the record Billy set on August 17th, 1995. 23 goddamned years he'd held that record - I thought he'd *die* holdin' it, an just like that it was gone. I tried bringin' 'im back to reality but the man'd gone zombie on me - just starin' at the screen, unblinking, jaw hangin' down so low he looked like an anaconda about to swallow Divine - I hadda get outta there, it was all too weird for me.
So I'm out in the parkin' lot headin' for the Topaz, when I notice Sadie Bonebreak's Ramcharger parked over by the Coke machine doin' The Worm, an... well, I'm not proud of this cause I know the 3rd rule of Joe Bob Briggs' Guide to Impeccable Drive-In Etiquette clearly states that when approaching another car: "always count heads before opening the door," but I hadda know, so I cracked the driver's side slow as I could to avoid startlin' anyone, when that treacherous dome-light kicked on an gave me away. The shriek of Sadie's girlfriend purt'near shattered the windshield an Sadie only missed my brainpan by about two inches when she swung a tire tool at my head (you really, *really* don't wanna know why she already had that in 'er hand), but I think I handled the situation with grace an dignity.
"Whoa, now! Jesus Christ, Sadie, it's just me! Give peace a chance for cryin' out loud!" I squeaked.
"I know it's you, why'dya think I'm tryin' to kill ya?!" she roared before takin' another swipe at me an shatterin' the dashboard hula girl into 326 pieces.
"Come on Sadie, somethin's royally screwed up here an nobody'll listen to me!" I pleaded, cornered in the passenger side floorboard.
"The only thing gettin' screwed in here was me until to YOU showed up!" she yelled, finally coolin' down enough to spike the tire iron onto the floor. "This better be good," she glared.
"Just tell me one thing - have either of you spoken to Mackle tonight?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess - he said 'you are about to be saddled with a great burden, but one from which sweet rewards shall be reaped,' or somethin' like that, so what?" she demanded.
"Great burden... the hell's that supposed to..." I was sayin' til what's-'er-name cut me off.
"Honey will you get him outta here? He's ruining our celebration..." Sadie's other half whined.
"Celebration? What's she talkin' about?" I squinted.
"Well..." Sadie grumbled, "she asked me to marry her earlier this evening and I said I would."
"My God... he's 4-0," I muttered to myself an slowly headed for the Topaz while Sadie hollered at me to get back there an explain myself.
That was about alla that I wanted, so I slid into the Topaz, cranked 'er over, an... Cripes Almighty the fruitcake sat up in my backseat, leaned forward, an whispered: "you will be the beneficiary of great generosity, but much patience must you have," an just like that he got outta the car an took off down the middle of the road like a teenager updatin' their Instagram profile.
I didn't even wanna speculate on what the hell that might mean, so I drove straight home, locked the door behind me, an flopped down on the hide-a-bed for some shut-eye without even turnin' the light on... right on top of a dead pack rat the size of a football. I hadn't noticed it in the dark, nor had I noticed Shankles grinnin' like a jackal about two feet away; proud as can be of his gracious offering.
Oh, an by the way, for the people who still think I'm nuts - while I was hosin' the rodent raunch off in the shower, Billy called from the Gutter Bowl an left a message on the machine - apparently he was still at the alley an'd just retaken his title from Dusty with a single quarter in what's bein' described as one of the all-time greatest arcade battles in history... kinda like "belief in himself saw him through."
Obviously sleep isn't on the agenda tonight, so I figured I'd better do somethin' to take my mind offa this Outer Limits episode I'm currently inhabitin' an stuck the chronologically congruent 2019: After the Fall of New York, in the VCR. Now, if you haven't seen this one you're prolly thinkin' to yourself - "big deal, sounds like another Italian Mad Max knockoff," but nothing could be further from the truth - it's another Italian Escape from New York knockoff. I love these Apocalypse Then flicks though, cause they remind us that things could always be worse if you live anywhere but Flint, Michigan. Cranky customers at work? - at least nobody jammed an iron claw into your eye-sockets. Boss caught you asleep in the storage closet? - big deal, no rats ate your face, now did they? See what I mean? It's all very uplifting when viewed with the proper perspective, an while we're on the subject of perspective, I've got here three bits of unconventional wisdom that, at least from *my* perspective, you'll want to incorporate into your psyche to ensure the maximum enjoyment of this film. First, tryin' to find a guy named Shorty in a room fulla midgets is a good way to start an Abbott & Costello routine. Second, no self defense course is complete without imparting the patented 3 Stooges eye-gouge blocking technique. An third, all contestants on the Post Apocalypse Bachelorette receive complimentary missing link babies.
The movie begins with this narration about how we're 20 years post nuke an that the nukers've declared victory even though Earth basically looks like one big C.H.U.D. sanctuary now an the liberals've finally achieved their goal of free birth control cause nobody's bits work to factory specs anymore. Basically we've got a buncha geeks in gold-plated hockey masks called Urichs who worship Spenser for Hire an ride around exterminatin' everybody who ain't within the acceptable 7 -13 finger range searchin' for a method of gettin' women pregnant now that all the Barry White albums've been melted into Rorschach ink blot tests. We get a pretty good demonstration of this when a platoon of Urichs locates an encampment of survivors who dress like they just raided the Goodwill bin from the Walmart parkin' lot, an basically the Urichs send in a buncha guys with industrial strength flame-throwers to make hobo barbecue outta the proletariat. Elsewhere, a coupla guys drivin' armored cars assembled by the junior high corps of engineers race around this gravel pit firin' scud missiles an tryin' to crack each other's blocks til the AMC Javelin gets the better of the Chrysler Valiant, shoves it off a cliff, an turns it into a Kentucky Fried Charger. Fortunately the driver (Parsifal) bails out while the Javelin's pushin' his rig around like Matchbox 20 an he hasta teach the heels some manners by pitchin' one off the cliff an impalin' the other on a big nasty spike mounted to the Javelin's grille. Then this robot clown on helium gives Parsifal some Legends of the Hidden Temple tokens an a hooker who talks like Natasha from Rocky an Bullwinkle an they drive around the desert til they hafta stop an laser a coupla guys who're burpin' up Nickelodeon gak after drinkin' too much Chernobyl spring water. Parsifal don't much feel like playin' Yeastmaster so he gives his hooker 'er freedom, only about that time a coupla nerds in space suits show up an zap 'im with this weaponized brass instrument an fly 'im to Alaska in their U.F.O. an make 'im talk to the Dean from Pieces. The Dean tells Persifal his Duggar senses are tinglin' an that he has reason to believe there's a fertile woman in New York City an commands 'im to go kick Urich hiney an bring the gal back alive so everyone's parents'll quit naggin' 'em about when they're gonna get grandkids. In exchange, Parsifal gets a seat on the spaceship headed to anywhere but here an two guys named Bronx an Ratchet to help 'im, an since Parisfal's ride's gonna be in the shop for the foreseeable future he says what the hey.
So the Dean drops 'em off in Hackensack with some Harleys an they motor on over to the Bronx an get directions from this radiated jazz man an end up havin' to wade through the sewer til they get ambushed by hoodrats an hafta open up some arteries an spill vital fluids all over the Greyhound station. Then they get bedpanned by a buncha winos an run into these off duty Orkinmen who hunt rats in the sewer with litter spears an Percy hasta intervene when they all go chasin' after this midget (Shorty) an try turnin' 'im into dwarfricassee. The head Orkinman looks like Fu Manchu with atomic acne an he's just a little bit P.O.'d about havin' his dinner reservations cancelled, so he jumps Percy while Ratchet's fightin' a half dozen fallout boys with these clackers of doom that he keeps tucked up his sleeve until Percy gets speared in his rear an they hafta surrender. Then Fu tallies up the spoils from the hunt an lets this slimeball take his pick of the clan's Teenage Mutant Ninja Girls, cept before the gal (Giara) starts givin' 'erself away to the Ratt King, the Urichs show up an part Fu's hair with an axe an take everybody else back to their base so they can force 'em to watch old Vega$ reruns til they crack. Unfortunately Bronx is not very cooperative, an when this Kojak lookin' interrogator tries gettin' 'im to open up an divulge the details of his mission he jams his Bionic Commando claw into Kojak's eyeballs an gooshes 'em into Bisquick. Kojak is P.O.'d, so he tells his goons to turn Bronx into Queens by strappin' 'im to this table that pulls your limbs apart til you look like Jean-Claude Van Damme folded up in a suitcase, an while that's goin' on this dominatrix with funnels on 'er tits (Ania) is workin' the "good cop" angle with Percy an he ends up tellin' 'er that Giara is the fertile peasant so she won't make 'im dress up like David Carradine in Death Race 2000 an hook his junk up to a car battery. Ania wants Percy to see what happens to agitators, so she puts 'im in the torture chamber where Bronx is gettin' turned into a Stretch Armstrong doll til eventually Percy can't stand it anymore an decides to ninja kick everybody's skulls in an fire explodin' crossbow bolts into their gut buckets. Course now Percy feels like a heel for gettin' Giara queued up for hysterectomy practice, so he an Bronx go blast 'er masters an take off through this military industrial complex that looks like the Darigold testing grounds until Bronx decides to stay behind an get a Holland Tunnel installed in his forehead to buy Percy an Giara some time.
Then Ratchet shows up with Shorty an starts flingin' ninja stars through the gaps in the Urichs' catcher's masks an turnin' their faces into Pace Picante sauce til they're able to bust loose an meet up with Shorty's Lollipop Guild in the sewer. The good news is Shorty knows where the vestigial virgin lives, the bad news is they hafta get the heck outta there before he can tell Percy cause next thing you know the Urichs're up their ass lookin' to collect the $2500 in back rent the midgets owe 'em for the sewer digs, an they crank this sonic synthesizer up to the "Tangerine Dream" setting until all the uncredited dwarves start screamin' like Judy Garland came to town an rollin' around on their backs like ants under a magnifyin' glass. Then the poop troop wanders onto the Broadway set from Rosemary's Baby an the Urichs pretty much have 'em cornered until George Eastman an a platoon of Planet of the Apes extras come outta nowhere an make pulled pork outta the Urichs with props left over from their stage production of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Things are kinda tense at first, particularly when one of George's baboon goons grabs Giara an declares his intention to snatchsquatch 'er an Percy hasta tell that damn dirty ape to get his stinkin' paws off 'er, but everything gets worked out once Percy busts the rape ape right in his bonoballs. Then Percy tells George about their quest for the holy tail an George decides he wants to get in on that an so Percy, Ratchet, Giara, Shorty, an George go kick in the door of this laboratory where the hallowed hooters're bein' preserved in Michael Jackson's hibernation booth. Lady luck seems to be with them, cause there's also a near-mint condition 1973 Plymouth Fury Custom (the only passenger car in history engineered to hold $1300 wortha groceries without ever havin' to fold the backseat down) just rarin' to hit the road. But first they hafta sneak over to this junkyard an lug two tons of reinforced steel back to attach to the Fury so it'll survive the Urich laser cannon mounted inside the Lincoln Tunnel, an Shorty ends up havin' to distract the Urichs an impale 'imself on some motor mounts so they won't put 'im in a cage with Herve Villechaize an charge $8 admission for midget kickboxing. Fortunately Shorty's sacrifice is not in vain, an once the guys get their ride sufficiently pimped they load the vestal vessel into the rear end, fire up the Fury, an go hell bent for leather. Lotta action still to come in this one, but I don't wanna go spoilin' all the plot twists so we'd better put the brakes on an let Michael Sopkiw an 4000lbs of twisted metal do the rest of the talkin'.
Well whaddya think? Only slightly more depressing than our current planetary trajectory in the real 2019, so at least there's that. On the plus side though, we've established that world-wide chemotherapy was no match for 1980s hair gel, which is somethin' I've always wondered about on an "irresistible force vs. immovable object" level. Seriously though, I think we've all seen at least a few of these Italian post-nuke flicks by now, so you're probably already well aware that these suckers end up goin' one of two ways, and the thing that always decides their fate is the action sequences. Succeed on that front and you get 1990: The Bronx Warriors; fail, and it's Warrior of the Lost World, and we wouldn't want THAT, now would we? Throwin' in completely off-the-wall stuff like... oh, I dunno - cybernetic clowns who give away hookers to the winner of the demolition derby goes a long way too, so I feel I can say with some confidence that 2019 got the formula right with its well-paced mayhem, gut-spewing violence, and the great George Eastman of Anthropophagus fame - I'll watch George rebuild the transmission in his Ferrari, the man's an international treasure. Admittedly, these flicks are all pretty similar in that the goal is usually to make sure the protagonists get roughed up, stabbed, whipped, beaten, shot, thrown in somethin' completely disgustin', run over, an generally mangled in their quest to destroy some despotic post-nuke Duke, but 2019's a little different in that it's a rescue mission that owes its story more to Escape from New York than Mad Max, which is the more common inspiration. It also plays out a bit differently in that it looks to have been setting itself up for a sequel that, unfortunately, never materialized, so you've got people that'd normally have to die surviving and people that you'd expect to live dying, and at the end of the day it's kinda nice that it's not as predictable as some of these flicks from the "barbarians with automatic weapons" subgenre. Now granted, the villains all wear Lucha Libre wrestlin' masks and capes like they're scheduled to dance in a kick-line at an S&M club after the day's shoot is over, but that's just what we thought evil was supposed to look like in the 1980s, so I'm willing to cut them some slack and state unequivocally to all the skeptics out there that 2019 is without a doubt the finest action film ever made to feature nuclear traffic cones, sleeping beauty, and swashbuckling Neanderthals.
Now comes the hard part - but I'm confident that as long as they didn't butt fumble the ball and run it out the back of their own end zone that this baby's got a shot at a passin' grade, so let's get to it. The plot, as I mentioned earlier, is at least a little refreshing in the sense that it differs somewhat from many of the other post apocalyptic offerings from Italy, although there's no missing the similarities to John Carpenter's Escape from New York. One also hasta wonder how the head of the resistance figured out there was a fertile woman in NYC from all the way up in goddamned Alaska, but in general there's nothing egregiously flawed in the film's premise. The acting isn't too bad and even features *some* legitimately well-choreographed fight sequences. The flick still has its share of punches that miss by two and a half feet, but if you've seen many of these post holocaust films you've seen a lot worse than what you're going to experience here. Additionally, the characters are fleshed out well enough to be kept straight, and most get at least a few sequences in which to exhibit moderate to impressive badassery, so I think you'd have to say that the crew was able to relegate the cheesiness to a level that makes the flick enjoyable, rather than laughable. I'm not gonna claim that anybody inspires even a shred of emotional investment in what happens to their characters, but several manage to be at least marginally likeable.
Here's who matters and why: Michael Sopkiw (Devil Fish, Massacre in Dinosaur Valley), Valentine Monnier (Devil Fish), Anna Kanakis (Warriors of the Wasteland), Romano Puppo (Robowar: Robot da guerra, Fracchia contro Dracula, The Last Shark, Escape from the Bronx, Ghoulies II, The Great Alligator), Edmund Purdom (Don't Open Till Christmas, Absurd, The Rift, Pieces, Ator the Fighting Eagle, Nightmare City, The Night Child, Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks, The Sinister Eyes of Dr. Orloff, The Devil's Lover), Serge Feuillard (Car Cemetery), Hal Yamanouchi (The Wolverine, The Fishmen and Their Queen, House of Lost Souls, Robot Jox, Phantom of Death, Sinbad of the Seven Seas, Endgame - Bronx lotta finale, 2020 Texas Gladiators, Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals), Jacques Stany (The Scorpion with Two Tails, War of the Planets, The Cat 'o Nine Tails, Hercules and the Princess of Troy, The Castle of the Living Dead, Hercules vs. the Giant Warriors), Tony Askin (Death Smiles on a Murderer), Franco Mazzieri (Screamers), George Eastman (Metamorphosis 1990, Delirium, The Barbarians, Endgame: Bronx lotta finale, Baba Yaga, Warriors of the Wasteland, Ironmaster, 1990: The Bronx Warriors, Absurd, Porno Holocaust, Sexy Nights of the Living Dead, Anthropophagus: The Grim Reaper), Omero Capanna (Battle of the Stars, Fatal Frames - Fotogrammi mortali, Urban Animals, The Barbarians, Hands of Steel, She 1984, The New Gladiators, Women's Prison Massacre, Zombi 2, Ironmaster, Gunan King of the Barbarians, City of the Living Dead, The Pumaman, Starcrash, Holocaust 2000, Deep Red, Web of the Spider), Domenico Cianfriglia (Messalina vs. the Son of Hercules).
Additionally: Giovanni Cianfriglia (Superargo and the Faceless Giants, Superargo contra Diabolikus, The Barbarians, The Final Executioner, Escape from the Bronx, Hercules 1983, Eyes Behind the Stars, Ironmaster, Thor the Conqueror, The Pumaman, The Sheriff and the Satellite Kid, Hercules the Avenger, Castle of Blood, Hercules and the Black Pirates), Alberto Dell'Acqua (Zombi 4, Endgame - Bronx lotta finale), Raniero Dorascenzi (Enter the Devil, Spirits of the Dead), Gilberto Galimberti (The Beyond, Cold Blooded Beast, Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon, Hercules and the Treasure of the Incas, Messalina vs. the Son of Hercules, Hercules and the Black Pirates), Angelo Raguso (The Barbarians, Thor the Conqueror, 1990: The Bronx Warriors, Contamination, Zombie Holocaust), Bruno Romagnoli (Beast in Space), James Sampson (Robot Jox, StageFright, Shocking Dark, After Death, Escape from the Bronx, Monster Hunter, Zombi 2, City of the Living Dead), Sergio Testori (Hands of Steel, Nightmare City), Sergio Ukmar (2020 Texas Gladiators, Massolina vs. the Son of Hercules, Samson and the 7 Miracles of the World), Goffredo Unger (Hercules Against the Moon Men, War Between the Planets, The Wax Mask, Demons, Devil Fish, Exterminators of the Year 3000, Panic 1982, Cannibal Apocalypse, The French Sex Murders, Snow Devils, The War of the Planets). The only defector of the bunch is Paolo Maria Scalondro, who went on to play Capitano Edoardo Rocchi in the Italian Crime Drama series - Crime Evidence, which probably sounds less stupid in Italian.
The special effects are a bit chintzy, but if you think a small budget is gonna stop the Italians from goin' all out with their gore you haven't been paying attention. The most obvious thing that you're gonna notice right off the bat are the miniatures representing the irradiated remains of NYC, and although they haven't aged well, by the standards of 1983 I'd say they're not only elaborate, but fairly ambitious. They took a pretty solid stab at the charred remains of a major metropolitan city and they deserve some credit for it, even if the end result is subpar. As for the gore - we've got gooey nuked out eyeballs (fair), eyeball transplants (pretty bad), bullet holes to the forehead (good, but insufficiently bloody), a gut bucket slicing (decent), face gnawing by rats (sufficiently gooey), a lot of radioactive faces with atomic acne (decent), monkey-men (fair), laser blasts and stun waves (cheesy, but no more so than any other flick from this era), and the split skull of Fu Manchu (very gory, but not particularly convincing despite a well-timed cut). I think the best way to sum up the effects is that they increase the entertainment value a lot more than the production value, but they didn't let their budget stop them from gettin' nasty, and that was the right choice for this movie.
The shooting locations are alright, but prove insufficient for a flick attempting to depict the end of civilization. That's nothing new - after all, it's a *very* tall order to successfully convey destruction on so grand a scale when you're working with a small or even medium budget. 2019 probably cost south of $200,000, whereas Escape from New York ran several million, and with a plot like this there's just no overcoming the budgetary limitations in depicting a world destroyed by nuclear weapons. They do their best to conceal this by keeping the flick underground for much of the running time, but at the end of the day it just doesn't quite feel like a post apocalyptic world. The soundtrack is probably the best thing about the flick, and that's not an attempt at putting its other aspects down - the soundtrack is both legitimately catchy, and effective at pumping up the atmosphere and bringing some much-needed life to a movie that doesn't gain much from its sets and shooting locations. The score was composed by the De Angelis brothers who used to go by the name Oliver Onions, and they're probably best known for their soundtrack to Yor, the Hunter from the Future, though over the years they've composed tracks for Killer Fish, Torso, Alien 2: On Earth, The Last Shark, Ironmaster, and some 180 other titles of varying nationality. You really can't beat "Yor's World" as far as the brothers' individual tracks, but if we're comparing complete soundtracks, I'd say the score to 2019 is their best. I'll give 2019 a razor-thin passing score on its entertainment value, but unfortunately it just falls too short in the technical department to secure an overall passing grade. Still, it's one of the better Italian post apocalypse flicks, so if that's a subgenre you're fond of, this is definitely one to check out.