Human Highway (1982)

Human Highway is the kind of gloriously oddball movie that feels like it drifted in from a different frequency—part sci-fi fever dream, part deadpan comedy, all wrapped in the off-kilter charm of a roadside America parked beside a perpetually leaking nuclear plant. It plays like a midnight-movie prank with a brain, where the jokes are absurd on purpose and the mood is pleasantly surreal, as if the world’s gone slightly sideways and everyone’s decided to roll with it. Neil Young and Devo give performances that don’t just fit the weirdness, they conduct it, turning the film into something oddly infectious even when it’s being willfully silly. It’s definitely not for viewers who want tidy storytelling or conventional laughs, but if you’re open to a cult curio that’s fearless, unique, and strangely lovable, this one can’t help but stick to you.

Human Highway is clearly trying to be an offbeat, punky sci-fi satire—part midnight-movie chaos, part small-town absurdism—where the plot is more of a loose excuse for weird characters and stranger detours. The problem is that “random” often replaces “funny,” so the pacing drags, the acting and dialogue can feel painfully amateur, and the story coherence is basically optional. It also contains dated, uncomfortable material that can read as sexist or racist rather than edgy, which makes the whole experience harder to enjoy even on a camp level. If you love messy, DIY oddities and don’t mind boredom between bursts of surreal nonsense, you might find a few quirky moments; if you want sharp comedy, solid sci-fi, or even coherent bad-movie fun, this will likely waste your time.