Dr. Eileen Flax (Lesley-Anne Down) is called to attend to a crazed man (Pierce Brosnan) covered in blood and shouting in French; he dies shortly after, but not before he grabs the doctor and whispers something in her ear. Following this experience, Flax begins to suffer from bizarre visions, as though the dead man's memories are somehow in her head. She learns that the man was Jean Charles Pommier, a French anthropologist investigating a group of mysterious people in Los Angeles with no names and no fixed abode, who might very well be supernatural in nature -- hostile spirits that have taken on human form.
The discovery of ancient urban nomads living in Los Angeles might be of great interest to an anthropologist, but to a simple horror movie nut like me, it's about as riveting as a thousand page thesis on the dietary requirements of the Manghuds in the Mongol Empire during the 14th century. The movie's supernatural aspect is superficial, and does very little to make the subject any more compelling. Furthermore, the constant cutting between Flax as she struggles with her visions, and the flashbacks to Jean Charles as he encounters the strange street punks (led by Adam Ant and including cult favourite Mary Woronov) result in a very confusing, disjointed mess. Adding to the irritation is a horribly dated soundtrack (consisting of bad synths and painful wailing guitars courtesy of Ted Nugent), a surfeit of '80s style (smoke, strong lighting, slow motion), an excruciatingly unconvincing French accent from Brosnan (mais oui!), and a twist ending so trite it is laughable.
Director John McTiernan would go on to make two of the greatest action films of the '80s -- Predator and Die Hard -- but Nomads, his debut film, gives no indication of the brilliance to come: it's an embarrassment from start to finish.
The discovery of ancient urban nomads living in Los Angeles might be of great interest to an anthropologist, but to a simple horror movie nut like me, it's about as riveting as a thousand page thesis on the dietary requirements of the Manghuds in the Mongol Empire during the 14th century. The movie's supernatural aspect is superficial, and does very little to make the subject any more compelling. Furthermore, the constant cutting between Flax as she struggles with her visions, and the flashbacks to Jean Charles as he encounters the strange street punks (led by Adam Ant and including cult favourite Mary Woronov) result in a very confusing, disjointed mess. Adding to the irritation is a horribly dated soundtrack (consisting of bad synths and painful wailing guitars courtesy of Ted Nugent), a surfeit of '80s style (smoke, strong lighting, slow motion), an excruciatingly unconvincing French accent from Brosnan (mais oui!), and a twist ending so trite it is laughable.
Director John McTiernan would go on to make two of the greatest action films of the '80s -- Predator and Die Hard -- but Nomads, his debut film, gives no indication of the brilliance to come: it's an embarrassment from start to finish.