The Trailer

Dolph Lundgren.

The Dolphin.

Das Lundgrenadè.

His real name is ‘Hans’, but he went with ‘Dolph’

Dolph Lundgren.

You all know who he is (if not, keep repeating the first three lines of this review until you do), and we all love him. He forms the bottom left corner of the holy 90’s ass-kicking trinity that is Van Damme/Seagal/Lundgren, and he could smash your face in to mashed carrots if he wasn’t a lovely, kind-hearted super-genius.

Dolph Lundgren is awesome. And we all love him.

Except he hates himself, it would seem.

If you’re unsure if Dolph Lundgren does indeed sneer at his own reflection, then take one look at the downward spiral of steroid induced, bottom of the whiskey glass depression that is his career, and the vertical arrow facing the ground that it represents, and tell me he doesn’t sit on the stairs and cry.

(Note to anyone who cares. I am NOT accusing Dolph Lundgren of being a steroid user or an alcoholic. I’m certain he has never been either. Please don’t sue me!)

Yes, we’ve seen a slight resurgence from Dolph in recent times, most notably with The Expendables movies, but holy shit was there a LONG spell of him staring in some absolute dross. And this decent into low-budget oblivion is a little depressing, especially given how Dolph used to be an earlobe collecting lunatic, and enjoyed breaking people with his massive Russian fists.

Also, please don’t hit me

Well that was then, and the sun has long since set on those glory days, and at the point in his career when Direct Action sulked its way miserably on to DVD, he may still have been awesome by virtue of being Dolph ‘I’m Dolph Lundgren’ Lundgren, but the movies he appeared in were cheap, stupid, and frankly…shit.

So now that I’ve set the tone of what to expect from this particular offering, we can take a closer look at…sigh…Direct Action.

Direct…to dvd

Direct Action is a baffling 2004 effort, staring the man himself as a cop that gets on the wrong side of some action-packed shenanigans.

But before I begin to point out how this is the most stupid Dolph Lundgren movie imaginable, I would like to first explain how I came to own it. Normally this kind of detail is utterly redundant and a waste of your time and mine, but just once, hear me out.

I had been aware of the dip in Dolphgren’s career for a while, and whilst digging online for more Collection fodder, I decided to search for a list of the worst Dolph Lundgren movies. Such a thing wasn’t hard to find, and this movie featured prominently. So not only did I make it my mission to own it, but I was prepared for it to be terrible.

Except there is no preparing for Direct Action. Not unless your brain was ever on the wrong end of Ivan Drago’s regard for boxing etiquette.

God Almighty, this movie is awful. Seriously. Direct Action is a film so devoid of sense that it’s clearly the work of a screenwriter who was kidnapped as a baby, placed in someone’s cellar, denied access to the outside world, and then forced to write action movies on the walls and floor.

That Dolph Lundgren thought appearing in this film was worth his time speaks volumes about how much Dolph Lundgren really needs better industry contacts and a hug.

And…action!

As the movie began, I was greeted by the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer company logo, and it’s angry lion, which is blatant animal cruelty. Did anyone consult the lion before associating it with Direct Action? Probably not. I’m fairly sure it would rather be slaughtering gazelles or licking its own balls, but like Dolph Lundren, it most likely thought a career in movies would pay more than sitting around looking scary.

“I should have gone to beauty school”

Next I was given the Nu-Image logo, which was NOT a good sign. Why? Take a look for yourself. Their logo also features lots of triumphant music, but I knew to see through this deception, and was already frowning.

As the first shot presents itself, we are shown a series of jarring pans and fade-ins of a city at night, taken from a helicopter, which is the go-to opening for films and TV shows that don’t know what they’re doing.

The first actual shot that definitely isn’t stock footage appears on screen of a red lit hallway.

“Brothel!” I shout, and have my presumptions confirmed (I know my brothels) as a scantily clad lady-worker walks in to the hallway to answer a doorbell. The would-be customers are in fact Cyprus Hill, who evidently aren’t here to purchase genitals. Instead, they go on somewhat of a bender with guns, and start murdering everyone.

Insane in the…casting department?

Someone, presumably important to the story, gets killed, as does everyone else. Apart from one lady who manages to sneak out.

So far so normal, so I guess it’s time for some…

Opening credits!

A blur of cheaply pasted, black and white fast cuts of Dolph Lundgren slaughtering people began punching my eyeballs, and my God, this wasted no time. Seriously, we haven’t even been introduced to Dolph Lundgren yet, never mind anyone we think it’s okay to see destroyed. Is he some kind of mass murderer? Or are these just trimmed clips from events that occur later in the film? Considering that this movie was made as cheaply as possible, what do you think the answer might be?

All of this twitchy editing is accompanied by some truly awful hip-hop. No, I’m serious, it is hideous.

“These cops be hanging, they be swinging off ma balls.”

Delightful. I hope they are unionised.

One aspect that stands out amongst all these fleeting images of Dolph shooting and punching, is that he looks absolutely sick of his job as an actor, and would rather be left alone in a quite corner of a library, researching how to build a time-machine.

Oh, and Dolph also has more than a passing resemblance to Anders Breivik, which might explain the mass-murdering.

As I wrote this observation in my notes, I looked up to see a shot of Dolph punching the camera, and therefore me…

No, PLEASE!

…right in the face, which I probably deserve. But instead of being impressed, I looked at what would otherwise be something awesome, with disdain. If I had seen a shot like this back in the heyday of Dolph Lundgrens career, I probably would have fainted. But now, when we both are much older, it looks tired and sad.

And then a car explodes.

Yawn.

Once that rubbery excuse for an intro sequence is over we get to see Dolph in glorious technicolour, and driving a car. Holy shit, he’s getting old, I think to myself, still frowning.

Hair dye and a Breivik-cut won’t hide it Dolph

Dolph is listening to the radio, and boy is it spewing some awful nonsense. It’s a broadcast about what it takes for men to be really awesome and, like, incredible heroes, and so-forth. Women callers are telling the radio host about what a real man is, and how they get girl-boners for hero-men. Obviously this is accompanied with close up shots of Dolph Lundgrens face, because in this movie we have to have it explained to us that he isn’t a dickhead.

The radio is also talking about what makes the perfect husband (hint: it’s Dolph Lundgren), but it’s fairly obvious that this hardened cop is married to the force lady, so please, close your legs and let him do his damn job.

I have already mentioned that he is a cop, but at this point in the film I wasn’t yet sure of that fact, and given that he really does resemble Anders Breivik, I was still debating whether or not he was a white supremacist. But no, he’s definitely a cop.

That said, neither Dolph (he looks like Anders Breivik) or any of the other cops in this film (they look like actors) actually look like cops. This in particular goes for the Chief of Police, who looks like…well, this…

Ivan Drago clearly wasn’t fond of the casting director

After seeing an introduction to Dolph’s cop buddies, I thought I could make some predictions about what would occur. So here goes.

• #1: Dolph’s black partner-cop will be killed (obvious, I know)

• #2: A cop that has just retired will be killed (also obvious)

• #3: Most of the rest of Dolph’s cop friends will be killed (obviously)

Would the film prove me wrong? We’ll see.

After meeting all of Dolph’s cop chums, a broadly sexist undertone is introduced in to the film in the form of a gorgeous bumbling female detective who is, quite naturally, paired up with Dolph in what is her first day on the job.

Why is it sexist? Well, because she is the only major female character in the film and she is as dumb as a wooden spoon. Two examples of this are given in quick succession immediately after she appears on screen. Ross (her name) shows up an hour late for work because she had a flat tyre (durr), and then gets in to the wrong car in front of everyone (also durr), and they all laugh.

She is fantastic at smiling however, even if it does make her look like an animatronic sex doll.

PULL CORD TO PLEASE DOLPH

We learn that she is a ‘probationary detective’ and is here to be taught by Dolph in how to be a proper, for uber-realz, detective. But, because this movie is all about how amazing Dolph Lundgren is, she begins excitedly fawning all over him instead of actually behaving like a policewoman. It’s all “such an honour” this, and “I’m so proud” that. It’s any wonder they actually arrived at their destination without her taking off all her clothes, or grabbing the steering wheel in a menstrual panic.

It was at around this point that I started to notice some…inconsistencies…regarding the behaviour of the police in this film.

What is policeman?

Now I might know fuck all about being a cop, but I evidently know way more about the police than the writer and director of Direct Action.

How so? Well, these two ‘detectives’ drive around until a dispatch call comes through their police radio for cops to attend an incident.

Which they themselves do.

Yes, that’s right. In this reality, detectives busy themselves answering dispatch calls to domestic incidents instead of detecting things.

So, these two totally genuine and very believable detectives respond to the 911 dispatch call of an altercation involving a fat man in a leather waste-coat.

When they arrive, there is an assembled group of bystanders who inform these ‘detectives’ that there are bad guys inside a bar who are extorting money from its owners. The entrance to said bar is being guarded by said fat man who, knowing perfectly well that the police have just arrived, continues to stand there and play bouncer.

Me…goon. You…friend?

Why didn’t he run away? He did see that the police just arrived. Was he going to tell the cops to leave because they weren’t invited?

Urgh.

So, Dolph takes off his jacket and begins to question the fat guy.

Just kidding!

No, he walks over to the guy and, without doing anything remotely policeman-like, such as asking him why he is just standing there, he hands his fucking ass to him in a plastic bag.

No…me policeman!

He then enters the premises and…yeah, you know what happens next.

Dolph kicks every shade of shit out of everyone present without reading any sort of rights, or even attempting to arrest anyone. Oh, and he also completely destroys the establishment by throwing bad guys in to anything breakable.

Go Dolph! You so hero!

On his way out, he says that all the bad guys are free to go…as long as they apologise first…which they do.

For fuck sake, seriously?

Do you understand that you are supposed to be playing a policeman Dolph? Did you research this role at all? I’m pretty sure your character just broke way more laws than anyone else in this scene.

As the detectives make their way out of the bar, the owner, who is gushing with praise for having his place of business destroyed, then tries to offer payment for his heroic antics.

And that form of payment…

…offering up his clearly under-age niece for Dolph Lundgren to have sex with.

I had to pause the film at this point and question whether or not I had gone mad.

Am I actually seeing this? Is this a nightmare? Did Ivan Drago punch this film in to my mind back in the 80’s and I am now having some kind of gibberish relapse?

Side note: During the altercation, Ross attempted to actually do something police-womany by handcuffing one of the bad guys. Except she (durr) dropped her handcuffs on the ground (remember, she is supposed to be stupid). So, once back on patrol, she grovellingly apologises for screwing up so terribly, and Dolph grudgingly forgives her.

What a guy!

Story time with dolph lundgren!

So after driving around for a bit, Dolph decides to go for a meeting with the ‘Chief’ in the most disgusting looking cafe in America, and I tap my thumb impatiently waiting for Plot.

Ahh, there you are.

Class, attention! I’d like to introduce you all to ‘Plot’.

Plot may seem a bit nervous, and might occasionally scream if you pay attention to it, so please remain seated and do not make eye contact.

Say hi to everyone, Plot!

“Heeellllooooo…”

So, as Dolph and his boss sit and glare at each other, Plot does a fine job of describing how there is a court case that Dolph is going to give deposition at, in which he will reveal how all the police in his elite ‘Direct Action’ unit are in fact, bent as bananas…

…and holy shit, where did this come from?!

Chief offers a big bribe to Dolph, along with a thinly veiled threat that he should play ball and try not to behave like Dolph Lundgren.

Okay then. Plot’s contribution to the film may be pathetic, but it’s better than watching these two drive around all day.

Who Dolphicated on the floor?

Seeing as the movie has decided to do something, we are given lots of suspenseful music comprised of polyphonic ringtones from 1998, and I start to get agitated.

These ‘detectives’ (Dolph’s a sergeant, by the way), who are still just driving around aimlessly, respond to yet another dispatch call. The perp this time is considerate enough to keep a prostitute at knife point in the street until they arrive, which is thoughtful of Plot.

Not the most comfortable of positions to be held in for three hours

As they approach the scene, the perp, much like the fat guy from the bar, keeps on breaking the law in full view of the police, and it seems that criminals as well as the police themselves, never read the job description.

The prostitute waddles away slowly and escapes, as Dolph chases down the perp, and what follows caused me to yet again pause the film and rub my eyes in an attempt to wipe away the retardity that the movie then sprayed all over my face.

Dolph-bukkake!

You see, the whole dispatch call (that literally ANY OTHER COP COULD HAVE ATTENDED) was just a ruse so that Dolph would find a piece of paper in his pocket while searching him, and that the perp and the prostitute were hired for this specific purpose.

I cannot begin to explain the multitude of ways this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Plot, you are a fucking imbecile. Go and stand in the hallway.

Dolph then lets the guy go without asking him anything, and takes a look at the note. It reads…

ps. We hope you are also stupid.

Why in God’s name was this necessary?

Couldn’t the Chief have handed Dolph that note himself? Or just said it to him? Why not send a letter to his house? Or text him?

And what the SHIT was it about this scenario that demonstrated that he isn’t untouchable?!

Wow, movie.

This stupid encounter, and it’s complete lack of any logic whatsoever, would have made way more sense if the perp was a bear or a crocodile, and it tried to eat Dolph Lundgren at exactly the same time a airplane painted the words ‘Don’t fuck with us, chomp chomp!’ in the sky.

At least there would’ve been some meaning behind why he looks so concerned, as Dolph is now suspicious of inanimate objects, and eyes a train, an articulated lorry, and a tree, with suspicion.

My God.

You dozey bell-end of a screenwriter. Seriously.

Once back in the car, I notice for the first time Ross’ police-regulation ear bangles, and my despair for everything sinks even further.

Or maybe that’s her pull-cord

Thankfully, the films cheers us up with a visit to the graveyard, where Dolph’s proper partner utters the tried and tested cliché,

“He was a hell of a cop.”

Except I have no idea who he’s talking about.

Cyprus Hill 2.0 have now disguised themselves as detectives and are wandering freely around the police station looking for Dolph so they can shoot him. None of the dozens of other policemen notice these people apart from Ross, who is supposed to be a complete moron, and has never visited this police station before.

Cyprus Hill 2.0 spot Dolph and follow him to the car park, which makes their plan of disguising themselves as cops and wandering around the police station utterly pointless.

Plot, have you fallen asleep back there?

They also have placed what looks like an e-cig on the tyre of his car. This is of course, stupid. Is it a tracking device? If it is then why bother when you are already following him?

I continue to rub my temples and and try not to question why I shouldn’t just set fire to myself.

Oh, and the e-cig audibly beeps and flashes different colours.

Christ.

Pictured: Very nearly as much as I can take of Plot and his bullshit

Except the e-cig turns out to be not to be a tracking device, but a tiny explosive that bursts Dolph’s tyre, thereby allowing these ‘assassins’ to have a long and drawn out conversation with Dolph in the middle of the street, full of threatening innuendo in which nothing happens.

A completely different bunch of bad guys arrive instead, who then taze Dolph, bundle him in to a van, and drive away. Obviously Dolph is followed by Ross, and everyone heads to the beach. The bad guys try to kill Dolph, and they almost succeed as Dolph is dramatically shot in the stomach. Oh no! But Ross turns up just in the nick of time, and action happens.

Bang bang, and so-forth

I am struck by how no one present during this scene has have ever had any proper weapons training outside of watching the first ten minutes of Menace 2 Society.

Ross hip-fires an assault rifle, Dolph duel wields pistols, and a bad guy shoots out of the window of a van with an AK-47…whilst driving the van.

Again, all of this should be awesome.

With the would-be assassins now dead, Dolph finally remembers his kidneys are 50 feet away, and begins hobbling slightly. Eventually he succumbs to being almost dead and we have yet more black and white montage footage. Except this time, it’s of events that literally just took place.

Ross doesn’t take him to hospital however, as now they are on the run or something, so instead she takes him to Dolphs partners house, which as secret hideouts go, is about as obvious as it gets.

Fortunately, his partners wife is dressed in a nurses uniform (whilst in her own house) and we are reassuringly informed that the gaping hole in his sternum is “just a nick.”

Oh, and Dolph Lundgren wakes up to his own tiny nipples.

Don’t worry, they’re still there

Once Dolph has completely recovered (ten minutes later), we are told that Internal Affairs and the DEA “didn’t want to know” about all the crooked cops running around everywhere, which yet again makes me wonder if job performance reviews exist inside Dolph Lundgren’s world.

We are now shown the mayor of wherever this place is, who is in his own disgusting cafe, and behaving not one bit how would expect a mayor to behave, which obviously means shenanigans, and etc.

Haven’t a clue

I’ve become certain by now that the person that wrote this crap has only ever been briefly introduced to the concept of mayors, cops, detectives, Grand Juries, the FBI, shootouts, and human people. But not to any extent that they can piece any of it together in a way that would be familiar to the rest of the world.

It’s a struggle.

The fugitives decide to drive to the Assistant Attorney General’s house, because why not? You have to drive somewhere I suppose, and the Assistant Attorney General has an Xbox, so lets make a day of it!

Plot wets himself slightly, as little bits of story belch and heave, and I question Plot’s commitment to handing in homework on time.

During what I assume is meant to be an exercise in character building, Ross explains that she wanted to be a cop because she was “good at cops and robbers as a child.”

How reassuring. There was me thinking you might have wanted to give back to the community or some other cliché, but no! You were good at running around going “pew pew pew!” and making pistol shapes out of your fingers. This does tie in with the stupidity of the rest of her character though, so fair play to Plot for not completely pissing itself.

Some more stupid action happens as the good guys try to kill the bad guys and the bad guys try to kill the good guys. It’s like that snake that’s constantly throwing up it’s own tail, except the snake is a movie studio fighting bankruptcy, and Dolph Lundgren is the vomit.

My old friend Adobe After Effects appears in the movie, drunk as usual…

How’s thing buddy? You never call!

…and Plot get distracted by a nearby ice cream van, causing me to break yet another orbital bone with my palm, as bad guys try to attack Dolph Lundgren from inside a car…being lifted by a forklift. This doesn’t end well for these dribbling idiots, as you might expect given how moronic an idea it was in the first place.

Stupid, stupid film

Meanwhile, Dolph’s partner is still at the Assistant Attorney General’s house and is trying to find some info on the bad guys. He is doing this on a laptop…in 2003…in a house that I’m absolutely certain has no WiFi. Eventually he decides to look up some police reports, which again, makes fuck all sense. But this is the world before Windows Firewall was a thing, so maybe it really was this easy to hack in to police department computer systems.

The nausea this movie made me feel compelled me (much like the power of Christ) to look up the screenwriter online, and hopefully exorcise him, but I realised it would be unfair to pick on a two year old who chewed off the corner of a boxed set of NCIS, and wrote the screenplay with his faecal matter all over his parents pine wardrobe.

Beside, I’m sure he was sent to bed early.

Urgh.

Oh, I did notice a bit of an easter egg in the movie…

During the steaming heap of laptop stupidity we can clearly see some kids in the background, who have already started work on the screenplay for Direct Action 2!

Stay within the lines when you’re colouring in Dolph’s face, sweetie

So Dolph, for some reason, goes back to the bar that was being extorted earlier, and we learn that the owners under-age niece is in fact the prostitute from the beginning of the movie, and is now an important device for Plot. However, Dolph still doesn’t want to have sex with her.

Congratulations, Plot! I knew you’d make sense eventually.

Oh wait, maybe not…

So now the CIA turns up wearing just as much jewellery as Ross, and because they were too busy eating donuts, they get kidnapped by Dolph (?!) But for some reason they decide to help him even though I’ve long since given up trying to make sense of anything.

“Sorry, how exactly do you spell CIA?”

Dolph’s partners wife is still walking about dressed as a nurse (maybe she’s a nurse?) and clearly the scriptwriter hadn’t been changed in a while and was now wet and crabby, hence everything.

Everyone meets up at a disused factory to kill each other and…

Do you know what?

No.

I give up.

Action happens. Stupid, stupid action, and Dolph wins.

Hooray, etc.

Done. That’s it. No more.

Holy bejezus, this film was terrible.

If I didn’t know better, I’d almost be convinced it was deliberately being as convoluted as possible in some occultic attempt at banishing reason.

Seriously, there is a TON of bat-shittery throughout this film that I never even touched upon.

Plot and his devices seem to duplicate and multiply all by themselves like some horrifying bio-weapon created in someone’s bathtub. If ISIS ever got their hands on the logic behind this movie, they would confuse us all to death.

So what’s the deal here Dolph? Are you just too stupid to figure out that you could easily make better movies with your eyes closed?

Well, no he’s not, as it’s a well known fact that Dolph has an IQ in the 140’s (and he was given a Fullbright scholarship to MIT, and has a masters degree in chemical-fucking-engineering…no, I’m not kidding).

So if we can rule out that Dolph Lundgren is just too dense to read the scripts he is given, then what else could be motivating The Great Lundgrenator to seemingly give up on his career and squeeze out these shameful turds?

Well, I have a theory.

That Dolph Lundgren is indeed a secret genius, and that he DOESN’T GIVE ONE FROZEN FUCK about what he appears in, because all he cares about are the smelly green dollars that are air-dropped on to his front lawn. Dolph knows full well that what he makes is so far removed from anything artistic that it should be buried on Mars, but he gets a big juicy paycheck simply because it has his specific name written on it, and it’s well known enough to keep his coffers stocked full of body lotion and anti-wrinkle cream.

I truly do not believe for one second that he is under any illusions about the shit he signs up to create. I mean, why would he if he genuinely wants to make quality films? He can read. He has a (very brilliant) brain of his own to use, and surely he is capable of watching the films he appears in. So you would think at some point he would say enough is enough and either quit for good, or hire an actual human being for a casting agent instead of a broken refrigerator.

So either he needs the money and is forced in to doing these things, like some kind of back-street Hollywood crack-whore, offering his ‘services’ for anyone with a camera and some blank-firing machine guns, or he is doing what he is doing through choice.

But guess what the answer to this riddle is…

…a net worth of 14 million dollars.

Wow.

You know what Dolph? I’d do the same.

By the way, my predictions were spot on. The black guy, the retired cop, and a bunch of extras all died peacefully in their sleep.

-Defector-

Don’t forget to stop by www.badmovie-badreview.com and check out even more Bad Movies and Bad Reviews!

Their work takes the shape of movies that are supposed to offer an alternative to modern, super-evil, cinema. But instead, they are feel-good piles of moralising, pseudo-religious, behavioural correction, created by a bunch of thieving cunts and pan-handlers. They appear to have a thing or two for telling you how to behave, right after begging for your change. They excel at only one of these activities.

In the menus of presumably all Feature Films For Families appears a TON of additional material in the form of videos, trailers, things to read, and of course, things to purchase. There is also a man who says the following…

“We produce and distribute uplifting and entertaining motion pictures that are suitable for all ages, and strengthen positive values while containing no profanity, vulgarity, sexual content, or graphic violence.”

So there’s no guns or ass?

Rigoletto

No, but there is gang violence

Rigoletto is a film version of the classic Giuseppe Verdi opera that I know absolutely nothing about. That said, I am very sure that certain things were lost in its translation to film, such as not being a cringe-worthy load of old wank.

As Rigoletto began, I let out a scream, mostly because I was afraid of being bullied by a musical in to appreciating spontaneous chorus lines. Not that I have a thing against musicals, but any film that has on its cover a (no shit) list of questions to discuss with your children once the movie is finished, will have me on the back foot. So combine that with the threat of song at any moment and yeh, I’m on edge.

Disappointing films for disappointed families

As the story begins, there’s lots of “Once upon a time” crap and fable nonsense, but no singing (yet) which I am grateful for. A car from the twenties appears, as well as a man in modern clothing, so I assume things are set in a non-committal ‘the past’.

I’m immediately agitated by the quality of the visuals, as they are honestly exceptional. The people who actually made the flesh and bones of this movie were highly skilled in the art, and no I’m not kidding. Everything from sound design to editing is legitimately excellent, which forces from me some unwelcome respect, and yet more soul-searching for what exactly I am doing watching this at 3 AM.

We are introduced to a little girl, who wants to win big at the singing competition. Good for her.

The first song of the movie starts, but it would seem I bought a defective DVD and the movie skipped a few minutes.

The little girl loses big at the singing competition, which she takes sorely.

The hate is swelling in you now

As the scene changes, the following line was written by someone who needs two weeks until payday’s worth of ramen noodles poured down their throats.

“Being poor makes people do things they shouldn’t do.”

Oh really?

Well, as a relatively comfortable, emotionally entitled, first-world poor person, and on behalf of those who are way worse off than me, I would like to tell that scriptwriter to go and fuck the nearest cat.

And I should also point out to Ms Rand there that being just one rung above abject poverty allows for people to…donate…to Features Films For Families (more on that later), so eat your own fucking logic once you’re done with those noodles, you dick.

Already, the ever-so enlightened, and very gentle looking down the nose-iness of Rigoletto was beginning to make an enemy of me, and Dr Condescension up there did not help matters with his class warfare and sneering attitude towards the financially underwhelmed. So it would be safe to say, at this point anyway (which was five minutes in to the film), that Rigoletto was having not quite the intended effect.

As things continue we see some children taunting a pig, which doesn’t go down well with the pigs husband.

“Them pigs is like family to me.”

And yes, everything is dungarees and doilies (the past).

The bucktooth pig-fancier, who lives in a literal shed, almost vomits in to a scarf when he finds out a small black child ate his favourite pig for Christmas. During my confusion, I realise it’s 20 minutes in and I have yet to feel good about myself, or be behaviourally corrected.

The mother of the girl from earlier, who has just been evicted from her house, visits her landlord, and has it explicitly implied by the landlord’s butler that if she walks past a certain carpet she will be killed.

She finds herself in the company of a disfigured, Tommy Wiseau vampire…

Complete with air of mystery…oooohh!

…who then tries to solicit sex from her under-age daughter, in exchange for her not becoming homeless.

It’s all very Dickensian.

She says no, but the daughter herself decides otherwise. The girl arrives at the landlord’s house, and swelling, Disney-like music accompanies the first throws of child slavery. This scene plays in slow-motion to emphasise how stupid it is.

STRANGER DANGER!

Plenty of “Ahhhhh!” choir music plays, as the little girl looks with wonder upon her new home (creepy prison).

All the while Tommy looks upon her in a very normal way

But before I can confirm that Tommy Wiseau’s intentions are indeed disgusting, the DVD skips a massively inconvenient chunk of the movie.

What a shame.

What I do catch though is the little girl eavesdropping on Tommy and a singer who is singing and…

It skips again.

I now learn that Tommy Wiseau is a singing teacher, and I get to see something to do with friendship, and also some drama (girl falls down a waterfall), before girl goes on to win the state singing finals. Hooray!

Except Tommy Wiseau is beaten to death by the townspeople, and I realise that if I hadn’t have…bought a defective DVD, I would probably be crying.

No I’m actually serious, Tommy Wiseau really was beaten to death by a gang of otherwise polite and courtly towns-folk, and even though I missed most of the movie due to pressing fast-forward, this was actually a very emotional way to round off a movie about a disfigured freak and his twelve-year-old girlfriend.

The End.

But what about the Parents Guide for Family Discussion?

I think it would be very disingenuous of me to take the time to skip through…I mean, watch…the movie and not play along with the stupid parents guide business. So these are my answers to it’s thoughtful questions.

• Q1: Oh come on. Have you ever met Ribaldi? He’s a mutant who’s favourite hobby is scaring the shit out of people and hating everyone. What did you expect?

• Q2: I scream, disfigure my own face, and then spend the rest of my life playing the piano.

• Q3: As everyone knows, if you soften your heart, you might get a decent tip (and molested)

• Q4: They attacked a monster because that’s what townspeople are for. And yes, I’ve jumped to my own wrong conclusions, ABOUT THIS FUCKING FILM.

________________________

Horse Crazy

I’ll make this quick, which should be easy enough to do considering that this DVD was also…defective…and seemed to skip all the boring bits.

Horse Crazy is a sickeningly heart-warming tale about a trio of kids who are so horny for horses that they repeatedly risk their lives in search of adventure. And horses.

An average Joe 12 year old falls in love with a fake cowboy child…

Pictured: A recalcitrant little fucker

…who then elopes with him and his sister, to find horses.

Meanwhile, two bad-guy horse rustlers decide to rustle a horse. I imagine that the reason they are willing to waste their time on something so painfully retarded is because the economy in modern day America is clearly fucked, and this thrilling heist has more chance of a payout than social security benefit fraud.

But then again, the brainy one looks like this so maybe the economy’s just fine

Despite the horse rustlers evident learning disorders, they successfully make off with a horse. However, our intrepid school children end up embroiled in all things shenanigan, with all the usual running, chasing, hiding, kidnapping, rescuing, and horses.

Do you remember your first orgasm?

Was it to a horse?

Theirs was!

However, the details of how and why these hijinks take place are a little vague, as my DVD kept…you get the picture.

I am absolutely certain though, that this movie contained at least one horse

So, some very gentle drama happens, as does mild chasing sequences.

Eventually, the kids outwit the bad guys, but not before some even milder to-ing and fro-ing, and of course, the laying of booby-traps.

They predictably win the day and ride off in to the sunset, and I learn that horse rustling is bad, and being good is good.

And that horses couldn’t give a shit about your carefully framed shot

The also end.

But what about the Parents Guide for Family Discussion?

Oh for God sake. Fine.

• Q1: Because falling in love with a pretend cowboy-child is an important step in every young boy’s life, and your parents are there to ensure you are locked in a cupboard with copies of Playboy until you are fixed.

• Q 2:Nothing. It worked for him!

• Q3: You’re basically asking why food and water are important. Seriously?

• Q4: Oh fuck off.

So what’s the deal here, Feature Films For Families?

When realising that I had just added another Feature Film For Families movie to The Collection, I became immediately suspicious of them as a production studio. They just seemed far too clean-cut a bunch of moralists to not have some severe and abundant skeletons in their closets, or torsos under the patio.

Were my suspicions correct?

Well, as I have already kind of spoiled by calling them swindlers, FFFF have a bit of a reputation.

Telemarketing and fraud!

Or as someone on the interwebs referred to the practice…Telemormonism, which is amazing.

So, according to the always accurate Wikipedia, the Fuhrer of Feature Films For Families, a certain Forrest S Baker III, pictured here…

Back away slowly

…has been a bit of a naughty boy it would seem, and has employed some, shall we say, mildly immoral tactics when promoting and funding his films.

Here’s an idea..!

Maybe Forrest S. Baker III should produce a movie about a bunch of adventurous school-kids, and how they all foil the evil schemes of an unscrupulous film studio, prone to run-in’s with the Federal Trade Commission and the massive fines then imposed, and then watch that film repeatedly until the word ‘irony’ gives him nightmares.

Yes, that’s right, FFFF have been up to no good and, through many lawsuits and prosecutions, were revealed to have marketed their films in ways that aren’t entirely kosher, namely cold-calling people on an industrial scale, and essentially attempting to swindle money out of anyone that would answer their phone.

And no, the ends do NOT justify the means

Mr The Third himself has also been seen squirming on the pointy end of some entirely uncorroborated and probably false rumours concerning mistresses and a porn addiction. Although he would never have needed to worry about being such a hypocritical shithead if he had made movies based around these things instead of horses and singing, as I would have funded those movies myself.

But is any of this surprising when he has creepy sex-enthusiast written all over his face?

Or possibly on one of his sweaters?

Also, his hair looks like it’s magnetic, or attached by a Lego stud.

He also used the word..

“…expescially…”

…and he has that general demeanour and vocal creepiness that convince me he is imagining his auto-cue is wearing crotchless panties, or that the camera-woman is a horse.

I’m being mean.

Anyway…

Yes, he spent far too much of his time haranguing pensioners and sifting money from their confused brains, but lets get real here. We’ve all definitely heard of far more underhanded methods that producers have employed to fund their films, right? So maybe we should cut him some slack. Okay, maybe not. But things could be worse.

He did at one point mention “The Great Teacher” during his funding pitch in the special features, which is code for Jesus or God, or both, but I am happy to reveal that his obvious bible-love does not feature in his films. Which is good for him, because it would otherwise have just added more heavy objects in to his inflatable arm-bands, and he would have sunk even further in to the swamp of hypocrisy he splashes around in.

Which only further convinces me that despite his dodgy promotional methods, and probably untrue rumours that I unfairly pounced upon for this review, he honestly wants to provide the service he claims to want to provide. Namely, making films that aren’t full of sordid muck, and are instead, beacons of wholesomeness.

And plush toys

And after watching (some of) two of his films, I honestly can’t help but be slightly won over by his movies. They really are all good, clean, well made, safe films, and would work just fine as movies a whole family could use to morally correct each other.

Except, instead of referring to what he makes as ‘movies’, he calls them ‘stories on film’, which is so fucking stupid that it reminds me that if the day should ever come when he pulls his head out of his ass, he might just realise he’d be better placed producing snuff movies for the Catholic Church.

At least there’ll be plenty of funding.

Score: 4/10

-Defector-

Don’t forget to stop by www.badmovie-badreview.com and check out even more Bad Movies and Bad Reviews!

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When beginning to watch Death Nightmare at Noon Street, I had a moment of self-reflection, and certain obstacles to overcome.

The room in which I found myself was being occupied by ‘other people’, who were watching the first Transformers film (the shit one, not the animation) and I was continually distracted by Michael Bay’s retardity and Megan Fox’s tits. And that directors off-brand style of army-babble and loud bangs put me off balance enough to have to restart my own movie at least twice.

Would my film have it’s own robots and a 50 billion dollar budget? Yes, obviously it would, because anything less would mean I’d end up jealous of a rich man’s mechanical alien porn.

No. Not this time. You’re wrong, I’m right.

But as everyone stared transfixed by the visual representation of Michael Bay’s wank-bank, I realised that my…hobby…prevented any justifiable complaining. If I had said “what are you watching that shit for?” I would have received well deserved stares that would say “you can talk” without needing speech.

And I would meekly return to the beginning of my movie, knowing full well that even the awesomeness of a title such as Death Street USA would be lost on those around me.

I would be the dumb-ass and they would be the winners. Well I was in no mood to lose. Death Street USA awaits, and awaits only for the brave.

You are wrong.

I am right.

The DVD starts up for the last time, and I begin my own adventure.

But before I did, I posed myself a long unanswered question: Why the hell do DVD’s contain trailers for the very film that is in full length, on the same DVD?

Are they assuming I might purchase the film in order to sample the trailer and THEN decide if I am going to watch it, or claim a refund from the Poundland I stole it from? Are they fixated on some fantasy about the trailer for their shitty Z-movie being played on display television sets in Currys?

The more likely answer is simply that you, you shitty Z-list distribution company of shitty Z-list movies, don’t actually have anything remotely close to any special features, so you just throw in a highly condensed version of the main thing you’re selling in the hope that someone might be impressed and actually fuck you.

I should apologise.

Between my Transformers inferiority complex and trying to understand pointless DVD features I have lost the way.

I did actually watch the film, I promise.

Death Street USA (which I prefer to it’s original title…deal with it) is an action Sci-Fi horror that reminded me a little of the far less Charlie-featuring Tremors. It has that kind of a vibe to it. Small group of heroes are holed up in a town and have to deal with an unknown menace. That kind of thing.

And I love this movie.

That said, I do have to address one slight issue. Namely, the God awful DVD cover on the version I bought. It’s shit. Especially when some of the other covers are fucking works of art.

Fap material

But I guess no one should ever judge a Hollywood DVD distribution release by it’s hastily shopped cover, as the old saying goes. So what of the films innards? What indeed, is the story?

Death Street USA opens with a disconcerting series of beeps and bloops and fucked up 80’s keyboard seizures, which resemble a tearful Atari 2600 that has been touched inappropriately and is struggling to explain the incident to the police. This spasm of sound effects is obviously accompanied by shots of flickering buttons on a plastic dashboard, and text on a shitty computer screen.

Without any warning we are forced to see a close up shot of a whited-up Brion James’ chin. (Yes you do know who he is. He’s a robot from Bladerunner, and a cop from Tango and Cash)

Yeh, him

There are some more swooshy noises and heaving computer fits, as the opening credits and Brion James’ face battle for screen time, when taa daa! – Someone gets really serious with the 80’s synth-work and the film’s title scrawls across the screen from right to left, just like The Terminator’s opening title scrawl. And considering this movie was released four years after The Terminator then there’s every possibility that the producers of Death Street USA had heard of it.

Am I accusing them of shamelessly ripping off better and more popular films? Yes, I am. Which is fine.

Anyway…This sudden increase in awesome lasts all of five seconds and, because they were only stealing a very specific part of The Terminator, for now anyway, we promptly go back to Brion James and the swooshy noises (which are produced by none other than Hans Zimmer, who was evidently slumming it for a change).

The establishment scene continues and I’m struck by how clean and clicky Brion James’ keyboard is, which makes me question my own life choices.

Somehow, a film with clearly very little money to spend on nice things can still manage to rustle up a keyboard that is far more hygienic than my own.

But I am not given the chance to focus on the emerging resentment I might have for Death Street USA‘s cleanliness, as we get our first decent look at Brion James. And yes, he has full-fat milky contact lenses for eyes, which to be fair to the make-up department, does complete the whole albino-alien theme.

Nailed it

The movie’s opening credits are still taking place in between shots of Brion James’ face, and it makes everything seem like his character in the movie is actually watching the same credits we are.

Confusing!

But with mind-fuses replaced, and the fourth wall rebuilt, we discover that the name of the town the ensuing fable occurs within is called…wait for it…

Canyonland.

I love you movie.

However, we then are forced to witness Brion James chug a huge gob of brown spit on to the floor. Why? He wasn’t chewing anything. That was disgusting. Was he nervous? Please don’t do that again.

…are his motivations ever explained?…

Wh…huh?

As Brion James exits the van that all the computer farts were taking place in, we see two other vehicles that resemble mash-ups of A-Team vans and Leer jets, out of which emerge a z-budget swat team with the word ‘Ape’ written on their hats. They all gather round and assume completely fixed positions, like some non-threatening impressionist troupe, and await Brion James to do something.

…who are these people?…why are they doing what they are doing?…

Did you hear that?…I thought I heard something.

Anyway, where was I? Yes, Albino-man loads a futuristic looking space-gun with a tube of green phlegm, and centers his weapon on the lake they are gathered next to. But his beef with lake is temporarily interrupted as the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life happens.

Honestly, what happens next would have been capable of single-handedly rescuing ANY movie from boredom and propelling it in to space.

We hear a cheerful car horn, and everyone turns around to see who is approaching. We see the offending party is a toothless backwoods yokel driving a battered looking truck towards the lake. Obviously, this is an unacceptable inconvenience to Albino-man, so he gestures his drama group to go deal with him. The men all raise their weapons, many of whom have laser sights attached to their guns.

And somehow…somehow…Toothless is capable of SEEING THE LAZER ON HIS OWN CHIN AND FOREHEAD. We know this by Toothless (no shit) looking up and down at the red dots in the most baffling display of a movie’s understanding of the laws of physics that I can remember seeing.

Pictured: The collective intelligence of Omega Entertainment

As if that wasn’t insane enough, Toothless then says…

“Wow, those are some purdy lights!”

…and the then looks at the group of soldiers, each of whom are visibly pointing machine guns at him and says…

“Are ya’ll making a movie?”

He gets his absolute shit blown to smithereens and I can’t breathe through laughing.

I love you movie.

In an example of a ‘We only got one take on this, so no matter what happens it will end up in final cut’ moment, one of the machine-gun-toting performance artists has a slight malfunction. Namely, at the big moment when they all perforate Toothless, his blank firing machine gun didn’t work.

This is clearly evident in the shot itself as his weapon does absolutely nothing whilst everyone else’s around him works just fine. This discrepancy is hilariously highlighted by this guy looking down at his gun and sighing. Poor fella! Stood about all night in the freezing cold listening to Brion James’ groupie sex lies just to get the opportunity to do some pew pew, but no. They gave you the broken one.

Because they are cheap. Not only cheap enough to use defective blank firing props, but also cheap enough not to just go ahead and add muzzle flash in post. Nope. Either they couldn’t afford it, or no one cared enough to consider it. Hats off to you movie.

Oh, I missed an important detail. Captain Cataracts is allowed to wear sunglasses at night. Presumably because he is an alien or something.

…but is he?…where is he from?…will you ever know?…

LEAVE ME ALONE!!

Deep breath…and continue.

With the toothless threat taken care of, Albino-Man gets on with the task at hand and shoots the lake with his snot-pistol – And this boys and girls, is what’s called a ‘premise’.

The scene changes and we see George Kennedy wake up at 07:00. The film is insistent that we understand this, as it shows the same shot of his alarm clock twice.

George Kennedy gets out of bed with full make-up and hair, and once dressed in his policeman uniform, drinks some coffee. Which isn’t as pointless a detail as you might believe…

We smash-cut to a close up of an extended thumb, that…slow pan reveals… belongs to a budget version Jan Michael Vincent, hitching a lift. Think Mr Airwolf himself, but left out in the sun for too long (and still with all his limbs…too soon?)

We then cut to a camper van containing Wings Hauser and his wife’s boobs. They are evidently on some kind of trip and the usual pointless dialogue at this point in similar films happens.

On their way to wherever they are going they pick up Airwolf-prune, and him and Wings Hauser’s wife immediately start flirting with each other under the nose of poor Wings, who has his head so far up his own ass that he is oblivious to his impending cuckold.

They arrive in…Canyonland (that name will never grow old) and decide to get some breakfast. Not Michael Vincent and Wings-wife continue to eyeball fuck each other and talk like whores. But just when you think they are going to slam their genitals together things ramp up, big time.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to…Charlie.

Howdy!

Charlie, who initially seems content to quietly sit at the counter eating his breakfast, undergoes some kind of terrifying transformation and begins to lose his shit in every conceivable way.

This is your time Charlie

This first manifests itself by Charlie brutally stabbing the waitress in her hand. It’s sudden, gratuitous, and insane.

And classic Charlie

Predictably the waitress screams like a banshee and everyone freaks out. That is, everyone except Airwolf-Man who looks upon all this with disdain. Wings goes to tackle Charlie but Charlie proceeds to kick his shit in.

This is the movies first foray in to the delicate ballet that is fight choreography. We’ve all seen good examples, and bad examples, and for Death Street USA, their fight scenes consist almost exclusively of people being slammed up against walls and thrown across tables. Take note, other films.

Wings, unprepared for Charlie’s heightened aggression, finds himself slammed up against a wall and thrown across a table. Airwolf-Man, bored by all of this, slowly gets up off of his chair and goes to settle things with Charlie. He gives him the old knuckle sandwich…to no effect. Instead, they BOTH fly through the diner window in slow motion.

This was PRE Matrix if you can believe it

A policewoman arrives and Charlie throws her over a car and steals her pistol. This amuses Charlie greatly…

Loving life

…and he tries to shoot the stricken policewoman. But in a dramatic turn of events, Airwolf-Man is ready with his own pistol and kneecaps Charlie, and we see Charlie now has bright green blood. A bit like the green stuff Albino-Man fired in to the lake. Do you think those two things might be related somehow? Gosh, maybe!

Charlie escapes custody by head-butting his way out of a police car…

Pictured: What every three year old would do if they were taller

…and then goes on the most awesome rampage in film history. That might seem like hyperbole, but don’t be so sure. Yes, admittedly Charlie only appears for ten minutes before he gets blown to shit, but those ten minutes should be mighty familiar to anyone who has played Grand Theft Auto. Charlie’s antics are the best part of this movie, and are worthy of closer inspection.

So lets do that.

Death Street USA – Go Charlie Go!

What follows is a list of everything Charlie does, or has done to him, in the movie Death Street USA, in no particular order. Some events have already been mentioned, but those were just leg stretches.

Show us what you got big man

• Goes insane

• Head-butts a car window

• Kicks a man’s face with both feet

• Throws a guy across a table three times

• Stabs a waitress

• Steals a shotgun

• Steals a police car

• Throws himself through a pane of glass

• Takes a baseball bat to the head

• Does a wheel spin

• Strangles two guys

• Disarms a cop with a roundhouse kick

• Blows up multiple cars

• Pulls apart a pair of handcuffs

• Fender-benders a woman in hair rollers

• Takes three bullets to the chest

• Crushes a woman to death
  

• Murders his own son
  

Fuck. Yes.

In terms of awesome movie rampages, Charlie’s from Death Street USA is ABSOLUTELY UNMATCHED. He was my hero from his very first scene and continued as such until his character was robbed of his precious life. Whilst there were plenty more rampaging loonies in this movie, none of them carried themselves with the same finesse and bravado that our good uncle Charlie did. This obviously despite the movie introducing Charlie’s son in to the film just so Charlie can kill him. Brilliant.

I love you movie.

You ain’t got THIS, Michael Bay

Meanwhile, Wings walks around with an invisible shotgun and we learn that Airwolf-Man’s character traits include chewing gum, one punch knock-out expectations, spontaneous smoking, and walking slowly towards important situations. Albino-man puts on a panama hat and looks silly.

Actual film quote: “Watch out. This thing doesn’t make any sense”

(No actor, when reading your lines, ignore the notes written in red pen)

In this films continued insistence on including stuff that should have been re-shot or left out, Airwolf-Man trips over during a scene, and did they shout cut and go again? Thankfully no, because this sloppy amateurism is my evenings entertainment. It’s made even more funny because you can tell it pissed him off. Lol.

There is even more being thrown over tables…

…being pushed up against walls…

…and being thrown over tables…

…as Wings-Wife has become a little hysterical, and now everyone realises that the water is contaminated and anyone who drank it will do a Charlie (as if anyone could come close…)

They throw her in a police cell and she spends the rest of the film spinning around and screaming. Wings has a good cry and gets on with things.

At some point our concerned heroes are discussing the script, and someone, presumably human, wrote the following line, the director had an actor say it, and no one stopped to question each others family histories of dementia:

“Did you drink the water?”

“No, I haven’t touched water in years.”

I love this movie.

Cop-Man, who uttered those obvious lies, had actually consumed water that morning (remember?) and so he periodically makes stupid faces as he tries to fight off the effects of the poison.

It’s not a heart attack

I said it’s not a heart attack! Also, I’m fine

At one point we witness a mildly perturbing scene in which one of our heroes blows away a knife-weilding maniacal Catholic priest. For those Catholics out there considering watching Death Street USA, bring your rosary beads because you’re gonna get the shakes.

Not pictured: Subtlety

We see a doctor inject a crazy person with a syringe full of sedatives who then blows the tip of the needle as if it were a smoking gun. Awesome.

But we also learn around this time that the green blood inside the infected people is actually…acid.

That’s correct. They have acid for blood.

If you’ve heard of that before it’s because you are a functional human being with a brain, and have never gone to Canyonland for swimming lessons.

A guy on a motorbike drives in to the back of a car full explosives, who then flies through the air with his literal ass on fire, and I swear I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

The story continues and our heroes prepare to face the bad guys.

…who are the bad guys?…what are they doing?…and why?…

ENOUGH WITH THE VOICES!!!!!

They assemble and ready themselves to ambush an A-Team van, and the movie displays some of of it’s filthy x-rated non-sequitur porn…

“We have to pen them in. At the old driveway.”

“Some sheriffs never change.”

What?! That’s amazing film! Any more examples of you drinking the water?

“I tell ya, he’s gone nuts!”

“Sue him.”

Ok, that’s enough.

I begin to realise that they jumbled up the letters of ‘Continuity Be Fucked’ when they were spelling the title of this movie, as the editing and script I don’t think were ever introduced to each other.

People appear psychic and know impossible facts. People transport from scene to scene and location to location. Characters appear to be deaf and blind to things in their immediate vicinity. And entire scenes seem to exist within their own time and space, waaay outside the main body of the film.

One example of this is how Cop-Man knows exactly where the bad guys are going to be, thereby allowing our heroes to plan a dramatic ambush. However, that location is literally an empty field of no interest, that the bad guys (who now possess flamethrowers) immediately begin to set on fire.

Tango down

But we aren’t given the time to dwell on such nonsense, as Cop-Man has now succumbed to his morning coffee and is…acting out.

You ain’t no Charlie

But, because of the hero he is, he retains just enough self-awareness to go and kill the bad guys instead of his friends, and gets set on fire. Now a flaming human candle, he runs towards the open rear door of one of the A-Team vans, jumps inside, and everything detonates brilliantly.

Hooray!

And breathe…

Cut to the next morning.

Everyone is on horses looking for Brion James. Wings gets shot, so Girl-Cop stays with him and Airwolf-Man continues alone. A boring ten minutes of admittedly beautiful desert photography ensues, as a game of cat and mouse happens. Albino-Man spits again, and I realise that Brion James will have literally not one single line of dialogue in this movie.

Then out of absolutely nowhere and for no reason whatsoever, everyone has their own helicopter.

Wow.

Helicopters.

This IS Airwolf!!

Jan Michael Vincent would cry

Actual, real helicopters, my God! And helicopters that chase each other in some of the most stunning aerial photography I have ever seen. And no that is NOT hyperbole. Ok, maybe it is, and yes, the footage is sped up for dramatic effect, but fuck me with a spoon there was a budget for this movie after all, and it was spent on three helicopters and a cinematographer that I’d happily drop the hand for.

It is spectacular. And in a very genuine – this is a real movie and not a student film – sense. It is incredibly entertaining as an entirely legitimate piece of film-making, and as such is tragically wasted on this movie.

As you can probably already tell, I am going to recommend this movie for how wonderfully terrible much of it is, but even if those elements weren’t present, I would still recommend just for this incongruous spectacle.

So, eventually the bad guy dies, the evil helicopter explodes, and everything goes back to normal.

No I’m being serious.

Everything is back to normal, as the town is completely fine, and Wings, who has fully recovered from being shot in the chest, is back to driving his camper van…along with his completely recovered wife sitting next to him.

That’s right, a person who only the previous day had fucking acid for blood is now fully recovered.

Bravo movie. It’s not often a film will have the balls to just up and tell an audience to go and fuck itself, but you did.

Bravo.

4 out of 5

…who were the bad guys?…who was the albino guy?…why were poisoning the town?…

It doesn’t matter, shut up.

The Facts
Format: DVD (Modern Entertainment)
Running Time: 98 minutes
Year of release: 1976
Director: Cesar ‘Chat’ Gallardo
Production Studio: Crown International Pictures

Just breathe.

I can do this.

I feel an urge to begin this review with warnings written in all caps on red backgrounds, with the text hidden behind near impossible to solve captcha’s, and my home phone number at the end so I can personally apologise to anyone who reads it.

Urgh, God damn it, I’m already nervous and sweating.

Breathe. It’s fine.

Please, be warned that none of this turned out as I had expected, and that this movie would have been fucking hilarious if every character was male, and Hustler Squad was a feature-length gay porno.

But it’s not. So it isn’t.

None of this is ok.

My discomfort, and sweating, is mostly due to Cesar ‘Chat’ Gallardo, the director of Hustler Squad being, at least based off of the tone and content of a film that he made, a disgusting chauvinist piece of shit.

He is a vile human being, and I hope he owns the tiniest, crooked thumb-tip penis an inventful God could create.

Yeah, you do

Yeah, you do

As I begin writing, I realise the old thesaurus will be a crutch leaned heavily upon throughout this review, as there are only so many ways I know how to re-spell ‘offensive’ and ‘disgusting’.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

So, apparently, this is one of those Grindhouse movies that are ever-so-popular amongst the kids these days, and of course, being from the mid-seventies, it should be expected that there would be a certain measure of awkward clumsiness and primitivism when tackling socio-political this-and-that. Despite this, I was struck by just how distasteful this film turned out to be, even for the underdeveloped morality of that supposed golden age of cinema.

Therefore, I was constantly in two minds as to even put the effort in to finish this review (as such there aren’t many screen-grabs), as this film deserves no spotlight whatsoever. Instead, I’d hope it fucked away off into the blackness of space to find a different species to accidentally convince to invade our planet.

But with this review, I can at least shine a light, not on to the film itself as any form of entertainment, but on to what the mind of a fucking cunt looks like when it’s given access to camera equipment.

What’s my problem, you ask..?

Hustler Squad is hands down the most grossly sexist thing that I have ever seen.

Hands down, ever. Amen. Period.

But for now, it’s time to address my guilt and grovelingly attempt to explain why this thing is even in my house and within reach of children.

Well, when browsing one of the websites I use to purchase crap films, the title of this film, an admittedly awesome sounding Hustler Squad, jumped out at me (anything with ‘Squad’ in the title is almost always guaranteed to be gold…almost).

So, like a giddy child, off to YouTube I skipped, to watch a corny trailer for a film (and no, I’m not embedding the trailer) that seemed to have every element necessary for a stupidly cheap movie, with ham-fisted misogyny and explosions. Something that we all could easily point and laugh at.

Yay!

But what arrived at my house, and was proudly sat at the very top of my ‘must watch’ pile, turned out instead to be something…broadly…more insidious, and certainly not something I hope anyone born this side of the dark ages would find entertaining. Maybe there exists a target audience for what happens in this movie, but please, if you ever meet them, spare a few minutes to drown them in a bathtub.

I’ll go through the basics of the first half or so of the film, and lets see if you can spot the point when it all stops being a joyous romp of hilarity.

Things begin with an assault on a Japanese Island that doesn’t go very well for the attackers, as all but one are killed. This opening includes a man’s decapitation, and as awesome as it is, in retrospect I would have been quite satisfied if that had been the fate of every other character in the film as well. The sole survivor escapes by swimming out to sea, and we cut to a pier in the 1970’s.

Wait, when is this set?

Some guy, a colonel or whatever, walks in to a room with the word ‘Intelligence’ written on the door, which is irony that you could use as rocket fuel.

We realise that this film is supposed to be set in WWII and that the failed attackers were from the Filipino underground, which was an actual thing seventy odd years ago. So given the seriousness of the subject matter, surely this movie will treat the topic with a certain degree of care and reverence?

Oh, definitely not. Not with ‘Chat’ Gallardo at the helm.

Apparently, the aforementioned island is to play host to a bunch of “Jap brass”, who the army would like to have killed. So, as many other stupid films have done in these situations, we’re introduced to a ‘Stoney’ Stonewell…

No, fuck you. You don’t deserve a proper caption

…who is rubbish at his job, but because the army doesn’t have anyone better (sigh), he’s called away from his steamy poker game with a naked man, and told to get the job done at all costs.

Neither do you, you fucking extra

If Stoney ‘I’m drunk and perspiring’ Stonewell is the best guy for the job, then maybe you have shit jobs, US Army.

Things continue not looking one bit like the 1940’s, and the best their ‘Intelligence’ division can muster is a drawing on a blackboard of someone’s fractured colon that we are supposed to believe is ‘Jap Island’.

Fucking film

But I distinctly remember Captain-Man being told he would be given anything he required from the ‘Intelligence’ division, which presumably just meant access to chalk.

Later, in what would turn out to be a pivotal scene, Captain-Man and his Filipino friend are in the bar trying to figure out how they are going to attack the island. They have improved upon the shitty chalk drawing from before, by recreating a much more accurate map out of matchsticks on the counter top.

FUCK. YOU

They are also talking about their secret plans in raised voices in a dindgy bar. Perfect guys for the job, US army!

Filipino-Man starts talking to ‘Bird’ (yes, that’s how she is referred to) and a fight happens, the audio effects for which are the worst I have ever heard in my life. Ever.

I prize the palm of my hand from my face just in time for Filipino-Man to reveal his incredible idea for how to infiltrate the island…

…and I swear on my life that at this point I shouted out ‘broads!’…

The very next line?

“Broads!”

‘Oh, I’ve got the cut of your jib, film. I know your game.’ I thought proudly to myself, when in fact I had no idea at all what was waiting for me, and the depths this abominable film would sink to.

Prick, in front of his bosses, says that his wonderful idea for infiltrating a heavily fortified island full of well armed Japanese soldiers and assassinating the upper echelons of the Japanese military, is to…

…”smuggle in broads along with the whores to kill the Japs.”

Delightful.

It was around this point that I checked IMDB to see what, if any, plot keywords exist for Hustler Squad. It has 76 of them. Most are hilarious, but some…are not. Certain keywords caused my brow to furrow with concern, which was a facial expression I’d become very familiar with. As was some deep and pulsating self-doubt.

“Why am I watching this?” should be my fucking catchphrase.

Pictured: Me, next to an actual map of where my dignity is buried

So, Arsehole now embarks on his quest to find suitable members for his Hustler Squad. First stop? Prison, where we bare witness to a school-yard cat-fight that is essentially two women screaming “She started it…no she started it!”

Wanker says…

“Committed for murder, second degree. She’s the one!”

…and during what is more or less a job interview, the potential recruit for a top secret and vitally important mission to murder dangerous soldiers, says the following.

“Suppose I want to screw ’em to death? A broad can get awful horny locked up away from men.”

That, and presumably suffering facial twitches from being kept away from housework for so long.

Fucking film.

This dialogue had me face-palming, not for how innocently amateurish the movie was, but for how offended it tries to make its audience feel. Is this deliberate? Are you being serious, movie?

Broad #1 agrees to join the Squad, simply because…

“I couldn’t spend my life without a man. Anything’s better than that.”

Christ.

Men this, men that. Men men men.

Sigh.

So on they go, searching for more walking tits, eventually coming across a nurse who has dedicated herself to helping MAN-kind. Except this particular Nightingale has…cancer, and is therefor ripe for exploitation.

Because of this charming plot point, Nurse decides that killing people is ok, because…fuck it? I’m not sure either, but fine, we now have Broad #2.

Next, we are made to watch a scene in a foreign language with no subtitles. Either the subs didn’t make the transition to DVD or else this was simply an exchange that was filmed by accident one day when one of the actresses tried to renegotiate her contract.

Things start to get even more strained, not just for myself, but also for the actors in the film. Certain scenes come across as if the people who appeared in them struggled with what they themselves were a part of. Even Captain-Dickhead’s actor seemed to force out the following line.

“I guess what the world needs is more nymphomaniacs, with killer instincts.”

Well, I’m pretty sure the world needed no more of this garbage back in 1976, never mind right now…

What follows is a scene that had me (no shit) eject the DVD from my laptop, stare into my fireplace and…almost set it on fire. No, I’m not kidding.

Filipino-Man brings the woman from the scene with no subtitles to Captain-Shithead and offers her up as a potential recruit. This woman proceeds to convince him of her worthiness by recounting a traumatic event from her past, in which her relatives were killed by Japanese soldiers, and she was raped.

God damn it movie, don’t go there.

(It’s worth noting for just how shitty a production this movie is, that during numerous scenes, this one in particular, you can CLEARLY hear the instructions from the director being shouted from off camera. And in this scene, you hear him say “never mind about that, improvise” behind her audio. Bravo at fucking up the basics as well, you pile of shit movie)

But after her supposedly tearful lament, we have Shithead utter this disgusting nonsense…

“That’s good enough for me, add one rape victim.”

You are a worthless human being

Vile.

What you have created is absolutely disgusting, you nasty bastard of a director, writer, actor, producer, and everyone else associated with the production of this knuckle-dragging bullshit.

To be fair to the actors in this scene (although they still agreed to be a part of this travesty), they all seemed exceptionally uncomfortable delivering their lines. I wonder fucking why? Maybe it was simply being in the presence of a director whom at best, views women as things to have sex with, or at worse, things he despises.

Oh, but wait! ‘Chat’ isn’t done directing his way to having his house burnt down.

The fourth and final member of Hustler Squad comes in the form of an American prostitute who is fleeing from the Mob. Wanker does his best sales pitch as to why fucking men for the U.S Army is better than fucking men for cash, but shock horror the Mob arrives outside, who begin shooting in to her bedroom window. She shoots back, but has made her mind up that she would be safer as part of the mission than out on her own.

But…

Yes, you guessed it. The shooter she believed was from the Mob was in fact Filipino-Man, and they lied through their teeth in order to convince a woman to be raped, and most likely killed.

Unbelievable.

Are we beginning to understand the particular tone of this film yet? Yes, that’s right. Bastards. Bastards is the tone.

Fast forward to the inevitable training montage of four girls in skimpy clothing with live fire rounds being used against them.

This extended training crap is interspersed with scenes in which the girls fucking fawn over the idea of having sex with a man, and men in general. It’s bizarre and grotesque, but by now to be expected, given this films insistence on viewing all women as brainless whores.

And I’m losing the will to continue.

At one point, the general aborts the entire mission. His reason for this is because he (no shit) refuses to believe that a woman is capable of killing a man one-on-one. So, in a baffling turn of events, the girls essentially kidnap and hold all the men hostage. The general, who now realises his mistake and has learnt the basics of gender relations, changes his mind and lets the mission continue.

I would like to emphasise that I was not joking earlier, and I did come very close to throwing this DVD in to my fireplace and being done with Hustler Squad.

But I refrained, for numerous reasons, most notably that I wanted to make it the entire way through to Hustler Squad‘s miserable end, so I could do what I am doing right now…imploring you to leave it, and anything else made by Crown International Pictures and Cesear ‘Shit’ Gallardo very much alone.

That said, do you know what’s good for the soul?

Confessions.

So, if you’ll permit me the courtesy of pretending we are in a twin wardrobe and separated by iron mesh, you dear reader, can be my priest, and I’ll be your sinner. And just like any other Catholic priest (except the one from Death Street USA), you will absolve me of my transgressions and forgive me the sin of…

…skipping through the film.

Yes I know, it’s frowned upon behaviour for a movie reviewer to not actually see the entirety of the movie they are reviewing, but cut me a little slack here. The fucking thing is horrible, and I tried three times to make it the whole way through, but how could I when this film just wouldn’t quit with…itself?

But, from what I gathered from the few snippets I saw, there was…

Parachuting.

Concerned looks.

Implied rape of a minor.

…and fuck that, I’m done.

Nope. No more. Not one fucking second.

Deal with it.

Yes, I couldn’t bring myself to finish that rubbish, but I hoped that during a scene I skipped, the cast, crew, director, producers, and writers, each addressed the camera to solemnly apologise for what they had done. There was another 28 minutes to go, so this may or may not have taken place, but I had seen enough, and I believe what I saw suitably qualifies me to say what has to be said about Hustler Squad.

Basically, it’s fucking dirt. Offensive, crude, dirt. The only positive thing I can say about Hustler Squad is how it serves as an example of how far things have come with regard to the cinematic portrayal of women, and how much further there still is to go.

Or at the very least, it reminds us that NO ONE could get away with this crass garbage today.

Least of all dickless here

As a male man-person, I feel ashamed by sharing the same gender as the likes of that prick up there, and I’m conscious of the hypocrisy I surely exhibit when I flippantly comment about the modern objectifying of women on screen. Yes, when I do those things I am speaking more about the sexism of the theme presented, but that still doesn’t stop me from wondering just how much this denigrating attitude towards women is still buried within our modern, politically correct, self-righteousness, and how easily it can show off its muscles without us realising.

Is there still a trace of ‘Chat’ in even the most well-meaning do-goody liberal?

Sadly, probably.

But still…what the fuck film?!

This movie tries so hard not to be subtle or playful with its chauvinism (which would otherwise easily be argued as worse, as subtle sexism often slips under the radar, and directly into the public consciousness disguised as ‘The Norm’), and it’s in no way designed as simple titillation: some ham-fisted excuse to show tits and ass in between action scenes, as if that’s any less dehumanising.

No, Hustler Squad has set-ups and exposition that intend to portray the story as something to be taken somewhat seriously. Murderer, terminal cancer patient, rape victim, unwilling prostitute, the film sets up these back stories with time and patience that completely ruins any pretense of Hustler Squad being some casual popcorn flick. And of course, this all serves to impress upon its audience the base and degenerate view of women its creators appear to have.

For fuck sake, the film has our male heroes choosing the most vulnerable and negatively portrayed women possible, as candidates for a mission in which they are required to be raped.

Yeh, it’s tough to watch, and not at all what I expected.

It put me in mind of ‘Woman’ from Thunder Squad, which featured its own base objectifying of said woman.

Of course, (as was commented on in my review) Thunder Squad was certainly flippantly ignorant of the females within it, as so many films are, but its core story was about soldiers rescuing and exploding things, it just made sure to include a liberal dose of misogyny simply because it was poorly written and lazy. Of course it’s still offensive, but you don’t dwell on it for long as that’s not the core story.

Whereas, Hustler Squad‘s ENTIRE PREMISE revolves around the idea that women exist for men’s pleasure. It fucking falls over itself making that point, and it reinforces this concept at every given chance.

It’s the fucking definition of gratuity.

The only thing Hustler Squad teaches is the lesson that women are whores, who either love men with an irrationality bordering on the demented, or are things for men to use and dominate. Obviously, this chauvinism was not new at the time and is something our modern society still can’t seem to work through, but in this movies case, it revels in its utter disdain for 50% of the population of planet earth.

I don’t get it. It’s so close to being satire, but knowing it isn’t is frankly, scary.

Why was this made, and who for? I don’t get it.

Did people enjoy this back in 1976? Do people now?

I hope not. AVOID, at all costs unless you like punching laptop screens or are a cunt.

Have a fucking guess out of 5

After dealing with this shit I’m not sure I trust my ‘must watch’ pile. Or maybe I should take a leaf out of ‘Chat’s’ book and leer at exercise workout videos instead.

Much like the old saying about bringing knives to gun fights, when preparing to sit down to watch Arthur’s Quest, I accidentally brought a spoon from the kitchen instead of a pen. I was in the middle of cooking some food, so perhaps this blunder was understandable, but I felt, and looked, pretty stupid. But even if I had written this review with a spoon, I’m absolutely certain I would still have found work with Crystal Sky Communications as a scriptwriter.

This film is about the Legend of King Arthur, and the classic tale of when he travelled forward in time to be kidnapped by the woman from Baywatch.

This is gonna be shit, I thought to myself as it began. Seems that, like King Arthur, I can just sense things.

The first line of Arthur’s Quest is…

“The land is at war…”

Read that again, but in voice of the Emperor from Star Wars, so it sounds more like “The lend is at worr…”

Yes, it’s ye olde speak, and this is the past. Nothing too difficult to get the head around so far. All very normal behavior for a film.

We have more ye olde shite talk interspersed with someone cleaning a big sword inside a cave. The man doing this is perspiring so heavily that he’s surely almost dead. He recaps us on the Arthurian Legend, except in this, Merlin is referred to as a sorcerer. Are they not the evil ones? I thought he was a mage. Sorry, I’m being picky.

We cut to what appears to be one of Yorkshire’s more obscure after school drama groups, who are having a wonderful time on the side of a hill.

Are you guys okay over there?

Is this supposed to represent a war, a skirmish, or rival rambling associations that are very sick of each other’s shit? I’m not sure, but either way, it’s dramatic.

The camera pulls back to…

Huh?

…a different skirmish? Because that other one is quite far away. Are they related?

Confusion.

I laughed out loud as the film utterly ruins the very first shot of the very first combat scene in the film. The man to the right of the above image completely fucks up his exceptionally easy to remember choreography (seriously, it’s just swing to the left, swing to the right), making the other guy look like he grazed him very gently across his shin.

But this idiot reacts to it as if he’s been killed. So, instead of retaking the shot or simply editing out that obvious mistake, the film cuts to a slightly different angle where he is now completely fine and swinging (“It’s left, THEN right Gary!) from left to right. All this heart-thumping drama is accompanied by the audio of a man standing on his chair and screaming because there is a mouse in his kitchen.

Then a disorienting series of fast cuts flit across the screen, one of which includes the shaking of a small boy, presumably for his lunch money. The boy is rescued by a king on a horse and they escape to safety.

Phew!

The boy and king person eventually arrive at a clearing and dismount, which is followed by the best thing I’ve ever seen.

You see, this king is not like other kings because he can tell the time by (no shit) looking at his hand.

“It’s three o’clock” he mumbles. But the boy isn’t impressed. He can tell the time by staring at the ground.

?!?!

He calls out for Merlin, who was lurking in the bushes (there’s a lot of bush-lurking in this movie). But as he approaches the camera, he unintentionally slips and falls on the ground. I kid you not. And for the second time in five minutes, I absolutely lose my shit.

JUST RESHOOT IT!!

“No way! It gives the movie character if we leave in all the mistakes.”

I had to pause the film because I couldn’t stop laughing and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I then rewound it and watched it again. The actor playing Merlin is a professional however, so he gets right back up.

And checks his watch is still ok

They start babbling about his ‘quest for peace’ and ‘reuniting the land’, but Merlin has done goofed and failed to predicted their current situation because a “Horrible EEEEVIL!” has blocked his vision, and stuff.

Then, this woman…

Screen presence personified

…wanders out of the bushes, and we are introduced to Morgana. They are initially all pally, but then two of Morgana’s henchmen (more on them later) appear out of thin air and…Oh no! Shenanigans!…she is actually an evil sorcerer and not a nice sorcerer (?) who wants Excalibur for herself. Cue lot’s of “ha ha ha’s” and hand-rubbing.

The king instructs Merlin to protect the child. Merlin does this by standing behind him. He then starts blabbering about quantum mechanics and…oh wait, he’s casting a spell. Fair enough. Merlin actually screams the words “Hocus! Pocus!” and the most expensive cast member, Adobe After Effects, comes into shot.

Who despite not trying, is also the best performing cast member

Just before Merlin and the boy escape through the special effects swirl, the king says…

“Heroes never die!”

…right before being stabbed to death.

Yes I know you probably have a migrane by now, but fetch yourself a glass of milk. Better?

Let’s continue.

KAPPOW!! Smash-cut to the future where Merlin and Arthur are about to be killed by a speeding car.

Oh no!

Three feet more. Just three feet more.

But everything’s okay, because Merlin, after confusing the boy with big-person gibberish, abandons the five-year-old child on a motorway and goes back through the portal. I found this behaviour to be a little on the neglectful side, if I’m to be frank. But then again, he is a very annoying looking child, and maybe Merlin was just trying to do the rest of the film a favour by killing him before he hits puberty.

What happens next however, is a very important plot point and worth writing down. Do you have a pen?

The ugliest woman from Baywatch (I’m not saying she is ugly, just that compared to everyone else in that T.V show she absolutely is) almost runs the boy over. She gets out of her SUV to ensure the boy is unharmed, and then…

Er…

…kidnaps him.

Ten years later…

The quiet town of California ebbs and flows, as ethnic majorities go about their daily this and that, blissfully unaware they are being filmed for stock establishment footage.

We slow pan to a…

…gaming arcade, where, slow pan reveals, a hideous looking teenager and his girlfriend. And yes, he really is hideous. I honestly cannot impress upon you how wrong all of this child’s features are, as he looks every bit like the product of that time the Hanson brothers fucked a gorilla, and were all proud parents of a botox freak. His lips, ears, and nostrils are in constant flux, and more resemble a balloon model of a cow than human features.

As good a reason for the abolition of monarchy as there ever was

The two rapscallions are playing hooky off school, and remembering this, Gwen (yes, this film covers all the bases of the King Arthur legend) asks King Arthur what the time is. So he…

Go on. You can finish this sentence by yourself.

…looks at his hand.

I did the same thing, but with my palm actually making contact with my face

 “It’s three o’clock.”

Sigh.

At this point the film implies that they are actually brother and sister. Oh, okay. Really? But what about their obvious chemistry? No, I’m leaving this alone.

They go to their mothers place of work, a restaurant where she works as a waitress, to fill her full of lies about where they have been.

Oh my God!

It’s Brion James!

How’s things buddy! You never call!

Love the shirt, Jimbo!

Brion James appears to be a good guy in this film, and has lines (unlike in Nightmare at Noon), but he still can’t help looking evil as all shit.

King Arthur’s ‘mother’ says to her ‘son’…

“It’s my duty to put a roof over your heads.”

Er, no Baywatch woman. You fucking kidnapped this child ten years ago. I’d say your only duty with regard to King Arthur is to hand him over to child services.

But then my analysis of Brions James’ character is proven incorrect, as King Arthur catches Brion James checking out his adopted mothers ass and nodding approvingly. Shame on you Brion.

No chance mate

Meanwhile, right outside, Merlin appears through one of his low-budget portals in an alleyway, and gets mugged in broad daylight by the very first person that sees him. He runs away, and conveniently bumps in to ‘mother’. They both begin begin flirting with each other, so Brion James hires him as a bus-boy (?!?). The man is wearing magicians robes! Am I the only one that can see this?!

LOOK AT HIM!!

‘Mother’, who has hands down the best lines of dialogue in this movie, says the following.

“Welcome to North Valley, where we roll out the red carpet, and kick you over the head with it.”

How do you kick a carpet over someone’s head? Did you read the script before you accepted this role?

Anyway, back at ‘mother’s’ house, she brings out the nonsense for a second time when having a heart to heart with her 15 year old child about wanting to have sex. And that’s her wanting to have sex mind, not him. So eventually she explains…

“You better stay up here over dinner. I wouldn’t want you to be disgusted by my behaviour.”

…and yes, this film is rated U.

So the aforementioned dinner and ugly-bumping was supposed to be enjoyed with Merlin, a man she met in an alleyway earlier that day, who arrives at her house carrying flowers and wearing a suit and tie (where did he get these from? How does he know what they are? He’s from the middle ages?!).

He starts laying on the smooth, but she cock-blocks him savagely, and sends him on his not so merry way. Because of this, I don’t think it’s unfair to accuse her of giving mixed signals, not just to Merlin but to the audience as well. I’ve certainly gone flacid.

King Arthur doesn’t seem to know what he wants either, as he sneaks out of his house and goes to his high school (?). So…during the day, when he’s supposed to be at school, he goes to the arcade. And at night, when he’s supposed to be at home, he goes to school. Do you have any idea the time and money the education system is wasting on you King Arthur? No of course you don’t, because you’re a selfish little shit.

And whilst sitting there being whimsical and a stupid orphan, his sister turns up under a spotlight, and romantic music ensues.

What?

Oh shit! Right, okay. They’re aren’t siblings. They’re just friends. My bad.

She moves to kiss him. He closes his eyes, awaiting her soft lips, and she slaps him across the face. Which is hilarious! And a relief, given that I still have in my head that they are related to each other. And are clearly children. They chase each other about the place and, retardedly, we are shown that Excalibur is buried inside a fibreglass statue of the school mascot. Because, obviously it is.

Sigh

So how are we getting on? Are we still enjoying Arthur’s Quest? Do we enjoy movies? Why not have a quick shower? And then some more milk?

That’s better.

If you don’t mind, I would like at this point in the review to address why on earth something as stupid as Arthur’s Quest was made, because I’m fairly sure that even at this point in the film, even a complete idiot could figure it out.

Well this is what I think…

Because it was easy. All they had to do was borrow an established fairy tale, that someone else created, but the copyright for which has long since expired, and change the formula slightly.

Why not have it occur in the present, so you don’t need expensive sets or have to fly everyone to Scotland? Write the script on the back of a court summons, film on location as close to the studio as possible, and have the Hallmark channels programming director on speed dial.

Hire actors who everyone recognises but struggles to remember what from. i.e. cheap B or C list actors who featured in something popular years ago, but will now read any old shit just to try and stay in the business.

A good example of this is Baywatch woman. Who, I’m fairly sure, when ‘Arthur’s Quest’ landed on her doorstep, was in pretty serious debt to the Polish Mafia (Baywatch had well known financial issues), and really needed this gig. As such, she phones in every second of her performance, collect call from Jupiter, just like everyone else involved in this turd.

So what were the fruits of all this dedicated artistic input?

Well, so far anyway, Arthur’s Quest seems like the kind of milquetoast piece of crap that people watch when recovering in hospital from spinal injuries or cholera. Outside of it’s cheap stupidity, it’s inoffensive and banal, and perfectly suited to people who can’t get up to turn it off.

It’s the thing that rests on dusty shelves in Grandma’s house, only seeing the light of day when the reluctant grand-kids visit, and need a distraction, and even at this halfway point in the film, I’m not certain who would actually enjoy it. Although I suppose if you’re in hospital, and have just had a limb amptutated, you’ll love it!

Anyway, it’s pointless to dwell on the ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores’ at this late stage.

Lets just get on with it.

Morgana turns up in the present through her own portal. However, it would seem Adobe After Effects must have gotten drunk and tried to kiss the producers wife as anything requiring it, now occurs off camera. Instead we hear the portal and she walks in to shot along with her two henchmen…

…Slagador and Timmy.

You think I made their names up, don’t you?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0155508/fullcredits?ref_=tt_cl_sm#cast

Black and fucking white.

Timmy on the left, Slagador on the right

So Morgana, Slagador, and Timmy are wandering around North Valley in full Renaissance Fair garb, carrying swords, and looking for King Arthur. Which surely means shit is about to go down…

Morgana also has a fist full of cash, and a handgun. Don’t ask.

Meanwhile, back at ‘mothers’ house, she is impatiently waiting for King Arthur to get ready for school, so she says yet more paycheck-material.

“If you’re late for school I’m going to stick your face in the microwave.”

And not for the first time, I have to pause, not to take notes, but to wipe away the tears.

Anyway, as things continue, Merlin jumps out from behind some bushes to confuse King Arthur with ‘portal’ and ‘end-of-the-world’ babble. And Timmy and the gang, beat the shit out of the school principle so that Morgana can play ‘substitute principle’ for the day.

Oh, and this sign was the fruits of the design budget.

Awesome job!

Things cut to a classroom and…

Oh my God!

It’s Clint Howard!

How’s things buddy? You never call!

You’re God damn right he’s a legend.

Meanwhile, Morgana’s knights, Slagador and Timmy, are now a bit more dapper than before…

I don’t think there exists a century that these guys belong in.

…and I’m becoming increasingly embarrassed by Morgana’s dialogue. It’s all “Excalibur,” this. “Ha ha ha,” that. Nonsense, basically.

Then after a disconcerting scene in which King Arthur’s sister, sorry…girlfriend, is punched in the face and kidnapped by Timmy, Merlin convinces ‘mother’ that he is the legendary Merlin, and that Gwen has been kidnapped by an evil sorcerer so that she can force her ‘son’, who is King Arthur, to give up Excalibur, and take over the world. They have this conversation in her kitchen.

For some reason, the pupils have taken over the school, and Clint Howard…

Looking every bit like the chestburster from Alien.

…doesn’t give a flying fuck.

‘Mother’, after (no shit) successfully engaging Slagador and Timmy with a serving spoon, rescues Gwen, and Merlin throws a fireball at Morgana…

Pictured: Merlin doing his best.

…making her disappear. Oh, and Morgana made hundreds and hundreds of school pupils disappear as well. This tiny detail is at no point acknowledged or rectified.

So after inter-dimensional magicians try to murder her and her ‘son’, ‘mother’ is easily convinced to…just go back to work at the restaurant. Herself and Merlin have a heart to heart, and a romantic scene ensues.

Pictured: Merlin doing his best.

“I suppose you have to go back to Camelot?”

“Oh Caitlin…”

“Oh Merlin…”

Lol.

I’m struck by how, even then, when gentle violins are playing, Baywatch woman doesn’t kiss him. Good on you girl! Polish gunmen may be observing you from off camera but there are some things an actress just shouldn’t do. And could you blame her? She used to be in Baywatch, and he lurks about bushes.

So extraordinarily stupid shit happens, and everyone looks embarrassed, as the final showdown happens in an observatory.

Clint Howard is there, because he demanded more screen time, and the final battle happens between King Arthur and Morgana.

Again, we can hear the special effects but are not allowed to see them, as their swords fizzle and crackle like lightsabers.

After Effects, where are you when we need you?

Morgana, who’s actress is clearly struggliing with the weight of her sword, meekly knocks King Arthur’s sword to the ground. He spouts some crap about his father and and heroes and such…then just strolls over to her and takes her sword away.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon it ain’t.

It would seem that Adobe After Effects has sobered up and apologised, and is now allowed back in the film, as this happens.

Right on cue, Adobe.

With Morgana and her knights defeated, King Arthur’s dead father turns up to say hello. A portal is opened back to the past, and King Arthur’s ‘mother’ only agrees to travel back in time with him if she is allowed to become (no shit) Secretary of State.

Does she fucking realise where she is going?

They ask Clint Howard if he would like to live in the Dark Ages, but he ‘hymns’ and ‘ha’s’ and decides to stay and repair the school (and presumably figure out where all its pupils went). Good idea! And very logical. Except they give him a sword. Probably not a good idea. You’re a history teacher, you don’t need a sword.

Merlin is okay with going through the portal, as one might expect, but King Arthur’s sister, sorry…girlfriend, who has parents and a life here in the present, agrees to go as well.

Seriously? There is no WiFi where you’re going. I’m being serious. The Dark Ages didn’t have flushable toilets. And do you have ANY idea what they used for femine hygene products in the ninth century? Just do a quick Google search there before you make a decision on this. Seriously, I looked it up.

It’s fucking cotton wrapped around a twig.

1.5 out of 5

It wasn’t until the end of the movie that I realised that this guy was Billy from Gremlins. Thanks for ruining the legend of King Arthur AND my childhood, you piece of shit

The Facts
Format: DVD
Running Time: 90 minutes
Year of release: 1985
Director: Umberto Lenzi
Production Studio: Euramerica International Film

“Call it bravery…Call it courage…Call it guts…Whatever you call it, they’ve got it!”
Well, I call it casual racism and not so casual misogyny. And they certainly have that in spades.

So here we have Thunder Squad (also known as Wild Team in the US) starring none other than Antonio Sabato and directed by Umberto Lenzi. From Italy. He’s Italian.

Ahh.

That’s right, genius, this is one of those Italian movies. A low budget action knock off that piggybacks off of Hollywood tropes without really understanding why they work in the first place. As a sub-genre of Good Bad Movies, Italian films are actually fairly new to me. I imagine them to be like those Turkish knockoffs of superhero movies that are incredibly cheap attempts at making some money at the expense of everyone’s attention span.

I’m certain, though, that I am oversimplifying here and that Italian film making has WAY more to offer than I realise, but given the fact that I surround myself with that whole Good Bad Movie genre, I guess I’m only ever going to expect the worst of things.

This…is…not (and I had to give that some thought there) the worst of anything. It’s cheap. It’s hammy. It’s baffling. And it’s…crap. But it certainly is still, at least occasionally, entertaining. Plus it stars Antonio Sabato, which automatically makes it better than it would’ve been otherwise.

It also has a hand-drawn cover of soldier nonsense that includes, on the reverse of the case, the stark warning:

‘The image on the sleeve may not necessarily correspond with the film.’

Whist I am grateful for them letting me down gently, the text itself is tiny and I didn’t notice it until the film was over, by which point the damage was done and my expectations of Sean Penn and Vega from Street Fighter 2 teaming up to kill people were long forgotten.

How dare you play with my emotions in such a neglectful way, 23rd Century Distributions!

Wait.

OH MY GOD?!?!

That absolutely, definitely says ’23rd Century’, and I am not going insane. Because as I fired up the DVD I was greeted by this mind-bending conundrum…

Red pill

How did this happen? How is it possible for a distribution company to be so confused as to what century it is? Well, according to my research, they initially began as 22nd Century but changed over to 23rd Century, presumably following a bitter and bloody civil war. They are also known for being about as dodgy a company as it’s possible to be, taking old VHS crap, sticking a fake BBFC cert on the front and shipping it out the back door. The 23rd Century logo is an indication of…well, shite, to be frank. Have they broken the mold with this particular release? Let’s find out…

This is how things go down in Thunder Squad.

The film begins in the lowest, blurriest definition possible as (possibly stock) carnival footage grabs your attention. The title of the film immediately comes on to screen with no time wasted. Funky Latin music gets the hips swaying, and by God, we have an opening. A good start.

It becomes evident as soon as someone speaks that some hideously dubbed dialogue is the order of the day, and I am on your side, Thunder Squad.

The story begins proper when a small boy is kidnapped. Oh no!

Cut to a boardroom meeting.

This, incidentally, was the beginning of this movie’s insistence at making everything as quiet as possible. Using music sparingly is usually a good thing for a movie to do but when you can hear your own DVD drive spinning, and so keep turning up the volume, you know something is amiss.

So a boy was kidnapped, who was the son of a president, who, in turn, kind of still likes having a son, and so wants someone to get him back. Gotcha. Some guy, who has something to do with a mining corporation (don’t gotcha) suggests they send some heroes to rescue him. Good idea!

The movie temporarily goes mental at this point and confuses itself with X-Men by introducing psychic, clairvoyant remote viewers (?!?) who, at the behest of the good guys, sit and stare at a red light and describe the kidnapped boys location.

One of whom takes the opportunity to masturbate.

As an example of a MacGuffin moment, it’s breathtakingly lazy, and therefore amazing, but now that that plot inconvenience is out of the way we can meet the main characters of the movie. And after a shitty training sequence, three very creepy looking European stereotypes are introduced as heroes.

We have…zee German guy…

Who is actually Austrian, but that’s close enough.

…A moustached “Its’a me! Maaario!” Italian…

Complete with furry caterpillar. Sexy.

…and a guy that is identical to the main hero, making the movie even more confusing than it already is. They all take their assignment and go looking for their last essential team member. The four heroes drive to…

Wait, why are they going there? This isn’t explained. Urgh, whatever.

…a field full of rusted cars. Which is when we are introduced to ‘Woman’.

The first we see of Woman is a (no shit) extreme close up shot of her bent-over ass in jean shorts that absolutely do not suit this young actress.

No, I was not joking.

But should we objectify her, you ask? Probably not, but the film does, and it is my job to see if this film succeeds at the things it attempts. Yes, she is a woman with an ass, and presumably boobies, but her introduction in this manner only serves to highlight the awkwardness and offensiveness of the scene that follows.

She also has a face, if anyone cares.

Our heroes arrive on scene to find Woman in a field of rusting cars, who is (no shit) applying make-up to herself. The four men all immediately lose control of themselves and, like pack animals discovering a deer with tits, creep forward. One guy, Franz or Fritz or whatever, the fucking German guy, says…

”Vat are you dooeeng here? Buying car?”

But the hero of the film, THE MAIN HERO, says…

”I saw her first, and don”t forget it.”

Please be clear when interpreting that particular line of dialogue, he does NOT say it in any kind of playful, elbow-nudging ‘am I right guys, high-five!’ kind of way. No, he spits it out with serious venom, which swings the entire scene away from bro-tastic and into rapey. Also, bare in mind that these men do not know who this woman is yet, and this is just their natural reaction to a woman in jean shorts applying make-up while standing in a field full of used cars.

As our heroes gather around their prey, she gives some serious back-talk. The German guy is quick to pick up on this and responds…

”Zoze ver fighting vurds!”

To his credit he refrains from swinging a clenched fist in broad circles and assaulting her.

Italian-man has had enough, and moves in…but a party popper goes off at his feet. He spouts some incomprehensible gibberish and we all learn that she is a demolition expert or something, and most certainly is not to…”be’a molestaro.”

But in a bizarre twist, she enters a shed pre-wired with explosives and, most likely because the world is occupied by men like this, blows herself up in it. However, because of her silly woman brain, she gets this wrong and survives, and the leader of Thunder Squad, impressed at her performance, and visibly erect, proclaims her to be ‘on the team’. High-fives!

Then the scene changes and an airplane screams in to my god-damn headphones, and fuck you movie and your audio mixing.

Things continue and everything ambles along slowly with extended pans and zooms and unnecessary establishing shots.

We then bare witness to a baffling scene outside an airport where some soldiers decide to beat the shit out of an extra, thereby allowing our heroes to be heroic. A scuffle occurs, eventually leading to the boss soldier demanding to know what is in the companions huge black trunk that they have just successfully brought through customs. Woman, sensing danger, explains that she and her husband (and three other men) are on their honeymoon.

This doesn’t dull the soldiers inquisitiveness, and he demands the trunk be opened. The lid is lifted and we see…Shock! Horror! Panties! Ooooh, she was right the whole time you silly willy! But to emphasise her apparent honesty, Woman utterly unnecessarily lifts the panties out of the trunk, and in full view of about fifty people starts stretching them seductively. This pleases soldier, who takes the rest of the soldiers away with him, presumably to stretch their own underwear.

One of the heroes, visibly relieved, moves to close the trunk and we see…Shock! Horror! A gun barrel sticking out of a sweater. Golly gosh, there were weapons in there the entire time! Someone slap my head and calm me down.

Our heroes teleport into the jungle and one of them utters this weirdness…

“Tomorrow at daybreak, we grow wings like angels!”

…and everyone absolutely loses their shit laughing. Why? You’re not supposed to laugh at the mentally unstable. Especially when they are carrying a loaded weapon.

But whatevs.

Panpipes begin and people walk from shot to shot, and the film comes dangerously close to forgetting what it’s doing. But suddenly, we see soldiers shooting up a village. Hans or Fritzel or whatever his name is says they are “dooeeng ze mopping aap operazion” which basically means they are going around liberally shooting lots of children. Our heroes arrive just in time to prevent none of this from happening, but instead get to witness the same awesome scene the audience does. Namely, a woman carrying her baby, who throws the child at a soldier, but her BABY EXPLODES!! Awesome!

That is definitely a baby.

Yes, I know it probably wasn’t a baby and was just a bundle of explosives all along, but that isn’t confirmed either way, so guess what? Thunder Squad features an exploding baby!

We are shown the kidnapped child (remember, there is a plot) and his nanny being held in the enemy base. A soldier say the words “You filthy bitch, I want to shoot you,” and our heroes find some hang gliders. Excitement ensues as we have an entirely redundant hang gliding scene. However, Woman predictably gets hers stuck in a tree and requires the aid of the men to save her from her own stupidity. But before they do they make sure to laugh and mock her. Because why the fuck not? This films misogyny might be ham-fisted and clumsy but at least it’s genuine. She responds to Italian-man in particular by screeching the best line of the movie.

“Shove it jerkhole, go sit on one of your arrows.”

Which we can all agree is cogent and sassy.

So, long story short, they get to where they are going and do the thing they were supposed to do. They achieve this mostly through the medium of lackluster, appallingly choreographed action sequences.

Kaboom, etc.

Once I figure out YouTube, I will produce a video montage of soldiers in this film running forwards and being shot to death, because that is how EVERYONE dies in this movie.

Reused footage and poorly timed squibs are in abundance, and the whole thing resembles two eight-year-olds running around a playground with invisible machine guns going “Pow! Kaboom! You’re dead! I killed you!” It’s basically the final scene from Commando (minus the budget), except here there are FIVE invincible heroes instead of one. Take that, Schwarzenegger, you worthless hack!

They rescue the boy and blow everything up and the movie ends…wait…what the hell is going on here?! The film is only 52 minutes in? Oh for fuck sake.

But I’m due on set in a better film.

As I wrestled with the almost overwhelming temptation to call it quits and put something else on, what’s left of the plot knocks on the window to be let back inside. The film cuts back to the boardroom and the business/government types, and for Christ sake this thing hasn’t ended yet. Instead, some shenanigans and double-crossing take place and the movie decides to pour a liberal measure of confusion all over itself.

A creepy looking assassin, more used to lurking behind bushes…

Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you disgusting?

…murders the kidnapped boy’s father, because of reasons, and this somehow puts our heroes, who are still in the jungle, in grave danger, and also somehow, people now want the boy dead.

Meanwhile, the leader of the heroes mistakes a helicopter for a mosquito, because retarded heroes are people too, and action happens.

One of the heroes dies and Italian-man, hunched over his dead friend, shouts “Nothing doing!” at his corpse. Leader hero tries not to cry as I check how much of this is left.

“Its’a at least’a de twenty minutes!”

Sigh.

Then this guy…

Hi!

…makes an appearance for the first and only time, as the twitching carcass of a plot tries to explain itself. But I no longer care.

However, I still can’t get the question out of my head as to why, if they wanted the boy dead, did they send an elite team of Good Guys to rescue him and secure his safety at all costs. Seems counterproductive to me. Whatever, I swear to God, I do not care.

They take a rest in the jungle and Hans snaps at the boy for “mezzing alownd viz da rahdio” and they all take turns being the worst child psychologists possible, with none of them properly nailing down why the boy might be slightly upset in the middle of a war zone. Oh wait! It’s because he heard about his father’s death on the radio! They all decide they are in trouble and Hans abandons the group and everything lumbers on. Bad guys turn up and more things occur.

By this stage, I have lost all faith in the film. I don’t care what happens and I want every character to be killed. Fatigue has set in and with each passing minute an hour goes by.

Stuff happens and the film eventually ends with the heroes blowing up a waterfall. I think there was a happy ending, but drool had formed at the edges of my mouth by that point, so it’s possible there wasn’t. Don’t care.

So…

Thunder Squad was not the worst thing ever created by any measure, as it still had the bare bones of an entertaining bad movie under its stringy flesh. However, due to the movies lack of truly dynamic action scenes, the dullness of it all takes center stage, and flies that paltry flag until the credits rolled. That lack of a pulse was certainly due to the director. If you have a shit story, as did Umberto Lenzi, you should compensate with decent action. But nope, the movie fails here just as badly as it did with portraying women (sorry, ‘Woman’).

For example, any explosions that result in someone’s death occur at least 30 feet away from the person they are intended to kill. Despite this, the underpaid extras throw their arms up and fling themselves skywards on springboards, which is nothing new in movies of course, but lacking competent cinematography, or at least some slo-mo, each of these displays comes across as rushed, cheap, and therefore, forgettable. Like so much else in this movie, the action sequences seem like an empty chore. And for an action film this is a problem.

Action movies do not require complex layered plots or interesting character development. They simply require a good vs bad premise, colourful heroes and villains, and action scenes we can all lose ourselves in. Incredible explosions and frenetic gun battles will never be enough to hold the weight of a movie alone (we still need why’s, who’s, where’s etc) but an action movie that fails to deliver on its promise of action is a movie without heart and soul. I’m certainly not saying Thunder Squad is entirely devoid of action, but its amateurish approach denies its audience anything to get behind.

Thunder Squad is dull when it’s not supposed to be, and only entertaining when it’s being unintentionally daft. The dialogue, the dubbing, the one-take-only failures, ‘Woman’ – these are the only elements that make the movie just about watchable. It’s certainly unusual enough to prove a spectacle, much like many other foreign films with that same bizarre charm, but its nonsense is all it has.

Case in point, Thunder Squad, an Italian production, manages to be racist towards itself, with lines being uttered by Italian-man such as “Its’a not’a velly niiiice!” Weird, but fun to experience, to be fair.

And yeah, I sort of enjoyed the movie. Or really that should be, to a point – an actual point in the film where it felt like the beginning, middle, and end had happened, but things still kept going. At that point, it began to lose me. I wanted it to end, and even though some of the funniest lines of dialogue occurred after this point, I had had enough. Bad movie! Try again with structure!

But up until the movie pissed itself and died, it was awful in a perfectly respectable way.

So would I recommend it? I suppose. But if there exists a 20 minute ‘best of’ edit, do your sanity a favour and watch that instead.

2 out of 5

If only for this guy