A review of the Monster Trucks

Why I think it's the best show of 2024

Getting friends to watch the Monster Trucks with me felt like a coup. 

I had been prepared to attend the event solo. But one Friday evening, after we had shared a bottle of red, I decided to try my luck and gently hint I would like their company. 

“We’re going to the Monster Trucks for Shane’s birthday,” I said.  

“Are we?” Asked Shane.  

“Yes,” I replied. “We should buy tickets now before they’re sold out.”

“What, are we really doing this?” Missy asked.

I looked her in the eyes, unblinkingly.

“Absolutely.”

Was it the sheer force of my yearning? Or their own latent Monster Truck desires? Either way there was surprisingly little pushback. Before anyone had time to sober up, I was online choosing seats. There were thousands, literally thousands, of available options. I put us as close to the track as possible.

“Should we get refundable tickets?” David asked as I reached for my card with slightly shaking hands. 

“NO,” I said louder than intended. “I mean, nah I don’t think so. Let’s just get normal ones.”

And they did. Joy on joy they did. 

So last Saturday, after weeks of fevered anticipation, we arrived at Homebush stadium. There we were, five adults straight from the pub, turning up to what we quickly realised was an event targeted at children.

A weaker group might have considered leaving. That would have been a terrible mistake. Children’s show or not, Monster Jam was a sublime entertainment experience. 

You see, Monster Trucks have transcended their humble beginnings. No longer are they just big cars leaping over smaller cars in a dirt arena. These days, they participate in an intellectual skill-based sport, not dissimilar to gymnastics. Except it’s way better because the gymnasts weigh 5-tonnes and also happen to be trucks. 

Because my friends and I arrived a little late, we had to squeeze past several parents and their toddlers to take our seats. The opening freestyle skills challenge was already underway – a part of the competition where the trucks must complete one trick in a limited amount of time. 

There were a few impressive wheelies and a couple of flying leaps using the dirt ramps. But the trick du jour appeared to be launching the trucks halfway up a ramp, and then using the momentum to flip up onto just the two front wheels. Sometimes there was too much momentum, and a truck would end up on their roof, stuck upside down like a turtle, wheels spinning in the air. This did not appear to affect the score. 

The winner of this challenge, the driver of a truck known as “Max D”, had perfected this two-wheeled manoeuvre. He stayed up for what felt like a minute, skillfully moving back and forward to keep his balance. He was interviewed after the victory

“It’s amazing what you just pulled off,” the interviewer said. “You showed so much restraint out there”

“It’s my time! It’s Max D time!” he replied with more of that famous restraint.   

With the finer, more balletic Monster Trucking out of the way, it was time for the main event: the freestyle competition. The time for holding back was over. 

It quickly became apparent that Monster Trucks are more fragile than they appear. This is a feature rather than a fault — the best scores seemed to be awarded to the drivers who managed a couple of impressive tricks before crashing their truck and turning it into a steaming pile of metal. The art is choosing just the right strategic moment to smash one’s truck. If you go too soon you’re penalised for a short run. Too late and you risk having a disappointingly drivable vehicle at the end. 

The Spider Man Truck was first. While it leapt into the air and did wheelies in the dirt, I found myself troubled with difficult questions. Was the truck meant to be Spider Man? Or was the driver, dressed in superhero garb, meant to be Spider Man? Or were man and truck the same? Like a babushka doll of incrementally smaller Spider Men. I found the narrative construct to be confusing and distracting. 

Thankfully the shark truck, Megalodon, required no such suspension of disbelief. It drove into the arena swerving back and forth, mimicking a Great White swimming in the ocean. The driver also refrained from confusing things by putting a fin on his helmet or gills on his suit. This allowed the audience to immerse themselves in the spectacle without having to ponder the line between shark, truck and driver. 

Megalodon delivered a spectacle. He launched into the air using the ramps, kicking up big plumes of dust in his wake. But as the clock ticked down, the driver knew the crowd wanted more. Megalodon squared up to a tall ramp, took it at full speed and managed an impressive backflip. Now there was just one more thing to do. He drove at the dirt mounds, clipped them with the side of his wheels and crashed the truck on its roof. It was a transcendent performance. 

Incredibly, it wasn’t enough to win the night. That award went to the Black Panther truck – its backflip was judged to be bigger and final smash more dramatic. Despite the surprising final scores, my friends agreed it had been a good night. I don’t even think they were humouring me. 

Some would have you believe that entertainment is a tiered system. That watching Shakespeare, or reading Tolstoy is a better use of your leisure time than a Monster Truck show. Personally, I think this stems from some deep-seeded puritanical belief that even enjoyment has to be work. But why must all our spoonfuls of sugar be served with medicine? Do we always have to be learning and growing? Sometimes I don’t want to be better. I just want to watch a big truck do a backflip and then crash into a pile of dirt. Why? Because it’s cool.

If ever there was proof that not everything that is good is worthy, it is the Monster Trucks.