Neon City (1991) is the kind of post-apocalyptic B-movie that rolls up in a dust-covered future-bus, slaps Mad Max on the back, and then lights a cigarette using sheer 90s attitude. Often forgotten, criminally underrated, and unfairly buried under a pile of direct-to-video rubble, this gem might just be Michael Ironside’s finest hour—and yes, I’m including Scanners and that time he got his arms ripped off in Total Recall. Here, Ironside plays Harry M. Stark, a battle-hardened ex-cop turned reluctant protector, grizzled to perfection, like if Clint Eastwood had been dipped in radioactive ash and handed a sawed-off shotgun.
What makes Neon City shine through the nuclear gloom is its ragtag road movie heart: a group of misfits crammed into a futuristic transport truck, dodging solar flares, acid storms, mutant raiders, and their own emotional baggage. It’s Stagecoach meets Escape from New York with a low-budget charm and surprisingly tight character writing. Ironside carries the film with growly stoicism and hidden depth—he doesn’t chew scenery; he marinates in it. And somehow, amidst the sci-fi grit and melted plastic aesthetic, there’s a genuine soul here. It’s a future gone wrong, sure—but Neon City makes it feel weirdly human. If you’re into dystopian road trips with brainy mutants and burning skies, this is your lost classic. A dusty cult miracle, and possibly peak Ironside.