Clint Morgan (Mark Schnieder) is leaving his home behind, much to the objections of his father. He wanted Clint to stay on and look after the family business, a garage, but his son has other plans out there on the open road: he wants to see something of life, and after bidding him farewell, and gladly accepting some banknotes from him offered as a goodbye gesture, he drives off in the customised van which is his pride and joy. Hitting the highway he heads for the local van contest, though it is a way to go, and along the journey he listens to his CB radio whereupon he picks up a message which alarms him...
Yes, someone is being attacked nearby, and Clint goes to the rescue. Up until this point you may be thinking his van is the vehicle of the title, even though one seventies van might as well look like any other to the untrained eye, but as you will see this is not the case. The so-called Vandora was actually a creation of the king of the customised cars George Barris - the sixties television Batmobile was one of his, as was KITT from Knight Rider - and had been crafted by him a few years before this movie was released, but evidently someone thought the design was snazzy enough to build a whole story around.
They were wrong about that, for Supervan even by the standards of the age was flimsy stuff. Essentially it was a hymn to the vehicle with a "rich father disapproves of daughter's boyfriend" plot bolted on, so Clint rescues Karen Trenton (Katie Saylor, best known for the shortlived science fiction show Fantastic Journey) from being raped by a couple of bikers, but unfortunately sees his beloved van get crushed in a compactor after (somehow) backing into it. Now without wheels, in return for saving her Karen invites Clint along to the local car laboratory (or something) where she keeps it secret the owner is her father, T.B. Trenton (Morgan Woodward), but persuades the resident boffin to allow Clint the use of his latest invention.
Which is of course - ah, but you're ahead of me. Once Vandora gets out on the road it's all too noticeable that as a possessor of a superduper electric motor it makes a sci-fi noise, so every scene where it's being driven is accompanied by an obnoxious electronic whine which must guarantee the occupants a migraine within about five minutes of travel. Not that this really happens, but it does make you wonder why anyone would consider driving it without earplugs, though as this plays the whole tone is rather abrasive. Instead of an easygoing look at the decade's van culture, there's too much here to rub the casual viewer up the wrong way with its aggressive characters and hard to like subject matter.
Hard to like unless you were part of the culture back then, in which case it's a trip down memory lane, and it was true the best bit of the whole movie was the montage at the end where the camera pans across various airbrushed art on the sides of the vans; yes, it's regarded as the height of kitsch now, but there was something pleasing about it that didn't translate into the rest of the production. With millionaire T.B. trying to sabotage the chances of Clint in the contest with the help of a moustachioed ladies' man it was clear we were involved with a clash of personalities here, but there were distractions such as a wet T-shirt competition apparently assisted by alcoholic poet Charles Bukowski of all people (he seems to be enjoying himself anyway) and supposed comedy interludes with gay stereotypes and the camera lingering over nubile ladies, so naturally there's a pie fight to end with. The trouble with this ugly-looking movie was if you were not inside the cult of seventies vans, this would do nothing to convert you.
