When Escape from New York debuted in 1981, it introduced the world to a dystopian America, an anti-hero for the ages, and a filmmaker at the height of his creative powers. It was gritty, economical, stylish, and tonally singular—a fusion of sci-fi, noir, and punk rock attitude that became an instant cult classic. Fifteen years later, Escape from L.A. was meant to be its spiritual and thematic sequel, but what audiences got instead was a bloated, cartoonish retread that leaned too heavily into parody and special effects that were outdated before the film even premiered. Escape from L.A. isn’t just a disappointment—it’s a misfire that misunderstands what made the original work.
The Return of Snake Plissken… Sort of
Kurt Russell returns as Snake Plissken, the eye-patch-wearing, cigarette-smoking anti-hero who once stalked the prison island of Manhattan like a one-man revolution. Russell is, without a doubt, the film’s saving grace. He inhabits Snake like a second skin and never once phones it in—even when the material around him practically dares him to do so. The problem isn’t Russell. It’s the movie’s understanding of Snake and the world he inhabits.
In Escape from New York, Snake is a product of a brutal, anarchic America—a man who distrusts authority, rebels against systems, and survives because he doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. In Escape from L.A., Snake becomes a punchline. He’s surrounded by absurdity, dropped into a sandbox of surreal set-pieces that feel more Looney Tunes than Blade Runner. His grit and stoicism are still intact, but he’s been placed in a world that doesn’t deserve him.
A Carbon Copy Plot with a Glossier, Dumber Finish
If you’ve seen Escape from New York, you already know the plot of Escape from L.A.. It’s practically the same movie. Once again, Snake is captured by the government and coerced into completing a suicide mission. This time, it’s the year 2013 and Los Angeles has become a quarantined wasteland following a massive earthquake that separated it from the mainland. Snake is injected with a deadly virus and given 10 hours to retrieve a doomsday device from the President’s rebel daughter who has joined forces with a Che Guevara-style revolutionary.
Sound familiar? It should. But Escape from L.A. strips away the tension and existential stakes that made the original compelling and replaces them with a series of baffling set-pieces: a basketball deathmatch, a plastic surgery cult led by a grotesque surgeon played by Bruce Campbell, and a submarine surfboarding scene that feels like it was shot during someone’s lunch break.
The biggest problem? None of it feels urgent or real. Where the first film felt grounded despite its sci-fi setting, Escape from L.A. feels like a parody of dystopia—a movie that mocks its own tone without ever justifying the satire.
Visual Effects That Age Like Milk
Let’s get this out of the way: Escape from L.A. might have the worst visual effects in any major studio film of the 1990s. The CGI is jarring. From the infamous surfing scene to the airborne hang glider assault, everything looks like a video game cutscene from a forgotten PlayStation 1 title. For a film made with a $50 million budget, it’s inexcusable.
Even if you’re inclined to forgive dated effects, what’s truly damaging is how prominently they feature. Carpenter leans into them with the misguided confidence of a filmmaker trying to reinvent the wheel. But instead of awe or suspense, the visuals elicit unintentional laughter. The city of L.A. is never convincing, never tactile. It’s a green-screen playground with all the depth of a cardboard set.
The Satire Falls Flat
To Carpenter’s credit, he had a vision. Escape from L.A. was meant to be a scathing political satire—an indictment of moral authoritarianism, surveillance culture, and America’s growing obsession with purity, both religious and ideological. The President in this version of America is a theocratic dictator, and L.A. is where all “undesirables” are deported to—a reflection of a country that weaponizes morality to erase dissent.
It’s a smart idea. But the execution is clumsy and surface-level. Instead of sharp satire, we get broad caricatures. Characters like Map to the Stars Eddie (Steve Buscemi) and Cuervo Jones (Georges Corraface) are cartoonish and underwritten. Their motivations feel thin, their screen time bloated, and their impact negligible.
Worst of all, the film never commits to whether it wants to be serious or camp. It winks at the audience, but then asks them to take its commentary seriously. It’s tonal whiplash that undermines every point it’s trying to make.
Supporting Cast Lost in the Fog
Beyond Russell, the supporting cast is either misused or forgettable. Steve Buscemi, a gifted actor, is stuck in a role that never capitalizes on his manic charisma. Valeria Golino is criminally underused. Peter Fonda has a bizarre cameo as a stoned surfer that adds nothing but eye-rolls. Georges Corraface, as the main villain Cuervo Jones, is perhaps the most forgettable antagonist in Carpenter’s entire filmography. He lacks menace, charisma, or depth.
Even Bruce Campbell, in what could have been a gloriously unhinged cameo as the Surgeon General of Beverly Hills, is wasted in a scene that’s too brief and too reliant on grotesquery over character.
The Score and Soundtrack: Carpenter Tries to Save the Ship
As usual, John Carpenter’s synth-heavy score is a highlight. Co-written with Shirley Walker, the music is moody, pulsating, and atmospheric. It does its best to elevate the film’s limp pacing and awkward transitions. But even a great score can’t fix structural problems. It’s like putting a beautiful frame around a crooked, unfocused photo—it draws attention, but can’t disguise the flaws.
Snake’s Final Act: A Bit of Redemption in an Otherwise Hollow Journey
To be fair, Escape from L.A. does end on a high note—at least thematically. In a final act of defiance, Snake activates the “Sword of Damocles,” a device that wipes out all technology across the globe, effectively rebooting civilization. It’s a bold, nihilistic gesture—a massive middle finger to the world’s power structures, digital dependency, and hypocrisy.
It’s the kind of finale that reminds you what could have been. Snake, after two hours of chaos and farce, finally reclaims his agency. He lights a cigarette, delivers a final one-liner (“Welcome to the human race”), and fades into darkness. It’s perfect Snake. But it’s also too little, too late.
The Legacy of Disappointment
Escape from L.A. didn’t just fail critically—it failed commercially. The film bombed at the box office, earning only $25 million worldwide. It also marked the beginning of a steep decline in Carpenter’s directing career. While he would go on to make interesting films like Vampires and Ghosts of Mars, the cultural clout he once wielded never fully returned.
For fans of Escape from New York, the sequel is a bitter pill to swallow. It’s not just that it’s bad—it’s that it didn’t have to be. With Russell back, Carpenter in the director’s chair, and a budget to match their ambition, this could have been a modern classic. Instead, it’s a masterclass in missed opportunity.
Final Verdict: Snake Deserved Better
Escape from L.A. is a frustrating watch. It’s a film that coasts on the goodwill of its predecessor, wastes its cast, fumbles its satire, and leans on effects that collapse under scrutiny. It wants to be a spiritual sequel, a parody, a warning, and an action flick all at once—but ends up satisfying none of those ambitions.
And yet, beneath the rubble, you can still see glimmers of what made Carpenter great. The attitude. The synths. The skepticism toward power. And of course, Snake Plissken—ever the reluctant savior, ever the badass.
If only the film had served him better.
Score: 4.5/10
A disappointing, directionless sequel that coasts on nostalgia and ambition, but ultimately gets swallowed by its own smog.
🔗 Further Viewing: John Carpenter Essentials
💀 Halloween (1978)
The classic that started it all.
👉 Explore the horror of Halloween
🧊 The Thing (1982)
A masterclass in tension, paranoia, and practical effects. Carpenter’s sci-fi horror masterpiece remains unmatched in atmosphere and execution.
👉 Read our breakdown of The Thing
👓 They Live (1988)
Before The Matrix, there was this sunglasses-wielding, capitalist-smashing cult classic. Roddy Piper sees the truth — and it isn’t pretty.
👉 Check out our full feature on They Live
🚛 Big Trouble in Little China (1986)
Jack Burton drives straight into supernatural chaos in this kung-fu western fantasy. It’s wild, weird, and all in the reflexes.
👉 Revisit Big Trouble in Little China
🚀 Escape from New York (1981)
Snake Plissken sneers, fights, and grumbles his way through dystopian Manhattan in one of the coolest genre mashups of the ’80s.
👉 Our full review of Escape from New York
💔 Starman (1984)
Proof that Carpenter could do more than horror. A heartfelt road movie with a cosmic twist and an unforgettable synth score.
👉 Dive into Starman with us
🚬 Christine (1983)
High school. First love. Murderous muscle cars. Carpenter’s adaptation of King’s novel mixes chrome and carnage.
👉 Read our full take on Christine
💀 Prince of Darkness (1987)
A sinister blend of science, religion, and apocalypse — and one of Carpenter’s most underrated creepers.
👉 Explore the depths of Prince of Darkness
🧛 John Carpenter’s Vampires (1998)
Western grit meets bloodsucking evil. It’s dusty, gory, and one of his last real flashes of style.
👉 Ride into Vampires with us
🌫️ The Fog (1980)
Ghosts, guilt, and a killer radio DJ. Carpenter’s seaside nightmare is all about mood and mist.
👉 Step into The Fog
🎥 Elvis (1979)
Kurt Russell channels the King in this surprisingly emotional biopic. Carpenter’s first team-up with his future muse.
👉 Read our look at Elvis
📡 Someone’s Watching Me! (1978)
A proto-feminist thriller from the master of suspense. Not quite Hitchcock, but there’s charm and early promise.
👉 Our full thoughts on Someone’s Watching Me!
🚀 Dark Side Picks & Misfires
📺 Memoirs of an Invisible Man (1992) – Cheesy and disjointed
🔥 Ghosts of Mars (2001) – Needed Kurt Russell to save the day
🩸 Cigarette Burns (2005) – Meta-horror gone murky
🚨 Pro-Life (2006) – Heavy-handed and unbalanced
🧠 In the Mouth of Madness (1994) – Brilliant in theory, muddled in practice
👻 The Ward (2010) – Stylish but hollow
☎️ Phone Stalker (2023) – When even Carpenter can’t scare us
