Thursday, January 30, 2014

Black Devil Doll (Jonathan Louis Lewis, 2007)

What do you think the first thing an anatomically correct puppet is going to do after they have been possessed by the spirit of a recently executed black radical/serial rapist/serial killer? (Scrounge up some white chicks with big booties and go to town on their pallid pussies with their big black puppet cocks?) Um, hello? Could you be more racist? (Okay, I'll give it a shot. Will he order up a tasty bucket of Oakland Fried Chicken?) All right, when I said, "could you be more racist," I didn't mean... Never mind. Greetings, I'm about to type words about Black Devil Doll. It's a movie about a mildly demonic black puppet who likes to fuck chubby white women. If the premise of this cinematic non-abomination offends you, what the hell is wrong with you? As the film's tagline says, "It's only a puppet, it's only a puppet, it's only a..." well, you get the idea. Seriously, though, it helps to have an affinity for tasteless and juvenile humour to watch this movie with any level of comfort. (Excuse me. Yeah, hi. I couldn't help but notice that you forgot to mention, when listing their many character traits, that the amorous puppet at the centre of this wonderfully sordid hunk of putrid trash was a homosexual necrophiliac.) Oh, yeah, how could I forget that, as the fact the puppet mounts dead men as well dead women was the moment I started to squirm less in my seat. (Uh, don't you mean, squirm more?) Not at all, my rambunctious young rabbinical student. Sure, writer-director Jonathan Louis Lewis tries to make the scene where a mildly demonic black puppet pounds a wannabe white rapper in the ass with his mildly demonic big black puppet cock a little less gay by editing it together with scenes of a racially ambiguous woman with fake tits taking a shower, but the fact he allowed any gay content to seep into his film is a reason to celebrate.


(Quick question: You called this a "wonderfully sordid hunk of putrid trash.") I don't think I said that. But even if I did, so what? (Well, don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?) An exaggeration, eh? You leave me no choice. There's a scene in Black Devil Doll where Mubia Abul-Jama, the horny/murderous puppet in the black power t-shirt, is trying to kill/have kinky sex with the aforementioned racially ambiguous woman with the fake tits. Only problem is, a locked door stands between the puppet and his fake-tittied racially ambiguous prize. To combat this problem, Mubia fires a molten stream of toxic fecal matter from his splinter-causing butt-hole at the door. Melting the obstruction the only way explosive diarrhea can, fast and messy, Mubia enters the hole his weaponized anus created with the type of swagger you would expect from someone who just ruined a perfectly good door with their own shit.


So, does that answer your question? (You're right, I'm wrong. This movie is a wonderfully sordid hunk of putrid trash. Though, you keep calling Natasha Talonz "a racially ambiguous woman with fake tits.") Again, so? (Well, she's clearly white.) To you she's white, but to me she's racially ambiguous. In fact, I thought she looked Laotian from certain angles. (But she's not Laotian...from any angle.) You don't know that. [I hate to interrupt this stimulating exchange, but I don't think you guys should be talking about this.]


You're right, let's instead go a mini-tangent about how you could watch the gorgeous, racially unambiguous, and shapely as all get out Heather Murphy eat burgers and fries next to USA Today box all day long. (Yeah, that's a good idea.)


Check this out, in order to shield the star of the movie from the murder and mayhem occurring at the film's primary location, the director decides to have her go to McDonald's. And to keep us informed as to what she's doing, we're periodically shown her eating. (Is she talking to friends?) No, her friends are busy being murdered/raped at the film's primary location by a horny puppet, she's just eating quietly by herself. (Oh. I have to say, that doesn't sound very interesting.)


Now, normally the sight of a women eating by herself wouldn't be all that interesting. But then again, Heather Murphy is no ordinary woman. The list of mundane activities I could watch her partake in is endless.


(Would you watch her change a flat tire?) Hell yes I would; Heather Murphy needs a jack, stat! (Give birth standing up to a human-puppet hybrid?) I guess I would watch that. (How 'bout watching her go to the mall to buy a Patrick Dempsey poster?) Sure, why not. Is this going anywhere? (Not really. I was just curious to know if you were serious.) Serious about what? (Serious about the amount of mundane activities you would watch her do.) Oh, I see. I'm surprised you think giving birth standing up and buying Patrick Dempsey posters are mundane activities.


Speaking of mundane activities, I could watch Heather Murphy watch television all day long.


(It's funny you should mention that you could do that, as we're about to watch Heather Murphy, who plays Heather, watch television right this minute.)


However, before we watch Heather Murphy watch television, Black Devil Doll unleashes the most evil-sounding, most skanky ass synth flourish to hit me in the fucking face in donkey's years. (A synth flourish?!? Shit, honky, that was no limp-wristed pansy ass synth flourish, that was a synth explosion. In fact, I'm still experiencing aftershocks in and around the furrowed gallows of my taint area. Who's responsible for these taint disrupting synth explosions?) It says here they were created by Giallos Flame. (Giallos Flame, eh? Say what you will about the validity of films that feature black militant puppets anally penetrating dead white rappers with their puppet dicks, the soundtrack to this film is smoking hot.)


Leggily watching television in a manner that was surprisingly leggy from someone who possesses such big ass titties, Heather, curvaceous to the point of Leroy-based erectorial madness, is bored with what the 500 channel universe has to offer. After learning a black power revolutionary from the 1960s is going to be executed in the electric chair for murdering a bunch of white women, Heather turns off the television and starts messing around with a ouija board. Conjuring the spirit of the recently deceased African-American, his spirit is zapped into the body of some Howdy-Doody-lookin' motherfucker sitting on Heather's couch.


Reborn as a motherfuckin' puppet, Mubia Abul-Jama is ready to begin his courtship of Heather. Oh, wait a minute. It would seem that Mubia's cock is already in Heather's mouth. Man, that was fast. You know what they say, chicks dig puppets. (They don't say that.) Okay, they don't. But you try to explain the rapid nature of Mubia's freakishly fast courtship of Heather, 'cause I barely had time to blink.


(Won't Martin Boone's White T, Heather's rapper boyfriend, be pissed that his shapely girlfriend is giving impromptu blow jobs to mildly demonic black puppets?) Probably. But then again, fuck that lame ass cracker; he's way out of Heather's league, yo.


(Are Mubia and Heather boyfriend and girlfriend?) Why do you ask? (Well, from where I was sitting, it seemed like the majority of the activities they were engaging in during the so-called "romantic montage" were things a mother and son would do together. You know, getting ice cream, riding on the swings, sliding down the slide, etc.) Look closer, do you fuck your mom doggiestyle? (Oh, yeah, there are sex scenes mixed together with the parts where they frolic in the park. Whoops. Oh, and to answer your question: No, I don't fuck my mom...doggiestyle.)


As everyone knows, dating a puppet can be fraught with unforeseen complications. On the other hand, dating sexual active puppets who are black power revolutionaries is not only fraught with unforeseen complications, it's rife with them. Rife!!! Telling Heather during a heart-to-heart chat that he needs get some "stank on the side," Mubia somehow manages to convince her that banging her friends is in both their best interests. He may be a puppet, but he's one smooth operator.


Judging by the fact he sprays her window with five dollops worth of puppet jizz before they even make it inside the door, Mubia clearly approves of the structural makeup of Heather's friends. I, however, had some issues with the way they were dressed. Skankily sheathed in non-existent skirts and booty shorts, Heather's friends had a sun-baked porno sheen about them was unappealing. Things improved somewhat when we actually meet them, as I liked the southern-fried Candy (Christine Svendsen) and her obsession with taking a dump; and the part where a pigtail-wearing Bamby (Precious Cox) calls Heather's boobs soft like pillows.


After the ladies are finished playing twister, Mubia gives Heather the signal to vacate the premises (he has yet reveal himself as a sentient puppet to Heather's friends). With Heather away, Candy takes a bath, Bamby goes out back to work on her tan, Buffy (Erika Branich), a muscular chick who shills for Rotten Cotton , takes a nap, and Natasha (Natasha Talonz) and her giant fake breasts hop in the shower. This is when Mubia jumps to his feet and begins his campaign of terror. (Campaign of what? I thought you said he just wanted to make sweet love to them.) He does, but he's a mildly demonic puppet. In other words, he simply can't go up to them and say: Excuse me, miss. Could I put my puppet dick in your non-puppet vagina? The world doesn't work that way. No, what he has to do is, he has to kill them first.


(Won't Heather be upset when she finds out that Mubia has murdered all her friends?) Most definitely. In fact, here she comes right now. Let's watch her reaction. Yep, you were right, she's one unhappy white chick. You would be too, if you came home to find that your black power revolutionary puppet boyfriend bludgeoned, slashed, stabbed, and electrocuted all your friends and left them in a pile on the living room floor for you to clean up.


Sure, she doesn't know how to hold a gun properly, and she can't aim for shit, but the sight of Heather firing a gun (her beautiful stomach fat oozing out from her jean skirt waistband like a fleshy waterfall) in the general direction of a psychotic puppet is the stuff erotic dreams are made of. (Didn't you think the scene went a little too long.) Hell no. I could watch spent shell casings hit the kitchen floor around her meaty calves in slow-motion for hours on end.


Offensive, sick, severely warped, politically incorrect, on the cusp of being amusing in places, and in desperate need of competent costume designer (would it have killed them to have put one of Heather's friends, or, better yet, Heather herself, in a pair of black hold-up stockings?), Black Devil Dolls is not for the squeamish, or the overly sensitive, or those who with high moral standards.


Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Scared Stiff (Richard Friedman, 1987)

I know the place is big and all, but how do you not notice the dead house painter hanging outside by your son's bedroom window? Actually, I assumed the police were removing the dead house painter's body when they came over to take away the skeletal remains of the two people that had been languishing up in the attic for the last hundred years. In other words, the police were like: We'll gladly remove these badly decomposed bodies for you; it's what we get paid for. Oh, and, by the way, we couldn't help but notice, as we were approaching the house, that there's a dead house painter hanging outside your son's bedroom window. Do you want us to get him down for you? It's no trouble. We got plenty of body bags. [End scene] But it turns out the police didn't notice the dead house painter either. (Did it ever occur to you that maybe the dead house painter's body was obscured a large tree branch?) Excellent point. (Anyway, do you think the house painter committed suicide, or do you think there's something sinister is afoot?) Well, with a title like, Scared Stiff (a.k.a. The Masterson Curse), I'd put my money on the latter. Truth be told, if I were to inform you what really caused the house painter, Wally (Tony Shepherd), to accidentally hang himself, you wouldn't believe me. (Try me.) Nah, I don't want to ruin the surprise (coo, coo). Besides, I've wasted enough time talking about dangling, unnoticed corpses. (You got that right. The new wave elegance that is Mary Page Keller in this movie needs to be thoroughly examined. And I elect you to be the one to perform the examination.)


Great, you make it sound like homework. (You of all people should know that writing about the bold fashion choices Mary Page Kelly's character repeatedly makes over the course of this movie is not even close to being homework.)


Outfit #1, the most important outfit Mary Page Keller, or, I should say, pop singer Kate Christopher, wears in this movie is the one she sports in the opening scene. Well, technically, the opening scene takes place in the made-up-sounding Charlesburg in the year 1857 (a slave owner, George Masterson, shoots a slave while his wife, Elizabeth, holds up some sort of protection stone). Anyway, after the prologue firmly establishes that George Masterson is not a nice guy, we're introduced to Kate Christopher, who is wearing a yellow dress with a black belt, black nylons, and a pair of black heels in 1987.


Preparing to move into a spacious old house with her doctor boyfriend, Dr. David Young (Andrew Stevens from 10 to Midnight), Kate gives us a good look at her yellow and black outfit, as she stands around in a feminine manner while waiting for Dave to get some wine. As she's waiting, most people will no doubt start to wonder what's going on underneath that yellow dress of hers. (Are you sure most people will start to wonder that?) Okay, a small handful of  people will start to wonder that.


In the middle of shooting a music video for her big comeback single, "Beat Of The Heart," Kate is debuts Outfit #2, a silky white slip with a lacy top. Judging by the set, it looks like the director is going for a heavenly theme, as Kate is surrounded by white columns and fake clouds. Fans of Outfit #2 should take note, as it makes a second appearance later on in the film. However, the circumstances are much different, as Kate is now a frazzled mess who thinks she's being stalked by the ghost of a dead slave owner.


As Kate is seeing her son Jason (Josh Segal) off to school, she wows us with Outfit #3, a red blazer (with the sleeves rolled up) and a white and black music note shirt. If you're wondering if Dr. Dave is Josh's father, he's not. And according to the scene that follows the bus stop scene, Dr. Dave works at a psychiatric hospital, and can be seen talking with another doctor about Kate's "condition." Yeah, it turns out Kate used to be Dr. Dave's patient. It's a good thing there was no TMZ in 1987, as this would probably be the big story of the day. Headline: Mentally Unstable Pop Singer Seen Canoodling With Her Doctor!


I'm going to skip over Kate's next outfit, as I'm not a big fan of the one she wears when she moves in with Dr. Dave. Though, it will give me the opportunity to bemoan the fact that Kate, a hip and stylish, Pat Benetar-esque pop singer, is dating such a colossal square. Even he thinks she can do better (he actually says so at one point).


Going back to the yellow and black combo that served her so well in the early going, Kate can be seen wearing Outfit #4, a yellow and black striped top, in the next couple of scenes.


Am I crazy, or does Scared Stiff have the same basic plot as The Shining? Think about it. A super-stylish mom and her mildly creepy son are forced to fight for their lives when an ancient curse threatens to engulf their relatively cushy existence. Only problem is, director Richard Friedman is no Stanley Kubrick. And Andrew Stevens is no Jack Nicholson. The little kid in this movie is, like I said, is creepy (he likes to carry around a lamp that is supposed to look like Cochise). But he's nowhere near as creepy as the kid from The Shining ("Danny's isn't here, Mrs. Torrance" *shudders*).


While I won't say Mary Page Keller, who some of you might know from the show Duet, while others, like me, know her from Zoe, Duncan, Jack and Jane, is as compelling as Shelley Duvall (no one can top the devotion Duvall displays toward her son during the harrowing finale). She does, thanks to costume designer, Beverly Safier, have a better wardrobe.


I mean, check out Outfit #5. It's a red shirt covered in black dots.


It would seem that Kate likes to mix the colours red with black and yellow with black, as she appears in both multiple times over the course of the film.


Remember the opening scene in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace when Dr. Liz Asher first enters Darkplace? Well, if you don't, that's okay, 'cause I do. She can be seen walking down the empty halls in a pink sweater-dress. Well, in Scared Stiff, Kate Christopher wanders the halls of a psych ward in a red sweater-dress. Actually, Outfit #6 is more of a shirt-dress. Either way, their hall wandering technique is eerily similar.


I would have to say Outfit #7 is my second favourite new wave outfit Mary Page Keller wears in this movie (Outfit #1 is my favourite). Rocking the red and black combo that has served her so well in the past, Kate wears a long black jacket (with the sleeves rolled up, natch) with red tights and heels. You could say she's employing colour blocking with this look. (Yeah, but, if I were you, I wouldn't say that.) Why not? (Heterosexual men don't say, "colour blocking.") They don't? (No, they drink wine coolers and watch shows about bidding on storage lockers.) Oh, really? Well, I'm changing all that (I drink green tea and watch Girls).


At any rate, I dig the way she looks in these two colours. In addition, the diamond-shaped pendant she wears on her jacket lapel really ties the outfit together.


In case anyone is wondering, the reason I'm not delving into the film's plot like I usually do is because it didn't interest me. No, it turns out, I was more interested in Kate's new wave outfits. That being said, the final ten minutes are pretty crazy, as the film goes into overdrive, inundating the audience with surreal and gory imagery. In fact, as I watched the nuttiness unfolding, I got this sudden hankering to watch the original Hellraiser, which I've never seen(!). So, that's something to look forward to.


Sunday, January 26, 2014

Samurai Cop (Amir Shervan, 1989)

Using my unique power to look at stuff and combining it with my not-so unique ability to remember the stuff I just looked at with some degree of accuracy, I would say roughly around thirty henchmen are killed in Samurai Cop, the movie so awesome, it's comes with its own body bag. Wait, I don't like that. Let me try that again. ...in Samurai Cop, the movie so awesome, it watches you. Neither of them make any sense, but I prefer the latter. I like the idea of a movie that watches you, and believe me, this is one movie you don't want watching you, or maybe you do. Again, I don't know what that means exactly. Either way, who is going to pay for all those funerals? That's what I'd like to know. What funerals, you ask? The henchmen. Haven't you heard? Los Angeles is replete with dead henchmen. And to add insult to dead henchmen, their deaths were primarily the handy work of some long-haired no dick from San Diego. Why this Fabio wannabe in the jet black banana hammock felt the need to drive all the way up to L.A. to destroy the city's most precious resource is anyone's guess. But don't think for a San Diego minute the more jawed than usual residents of this fair city are going to sit idly by and let some namby-pamby Japonophile ruin everyone lives. You wanna know why? 'Cause they won't...sit idly by, that is. (First of all, since when has L.A.'s most precious resource been henchmen? I always thought it was spineless sycophants. And secondly, "more jawed than usual"? What the fuck does that mean?)


Oh, you're so naive. There's only one person on this earth that fits that jowl-centric description, and that is, the one, the only, Robert Z'Dar. Taking henching to a whole nother level, Robert Z'Dar is the ultimate henchman as Yamashita, the loyal warrior who carries out his orders using the samurai code.
  

Whether instructing lesser henchmen to attack his foes, riddling said lesser henchmen's bodies with bullets fired from an Uzi after they fail to attack said foes with the necessary fortitude, or engaging in sexual intercourse with female henchmen with red hair, Yamashita does everything with an exuberant brand of gusto.
  

(I'm curious, does it take Robert Z'Dar longer to shave than everybody else?) Don't be stupid, he clearly has a beard in this movie. (Okay, let me rephrase that. Does it take longer for Robert Z'Dar longer to trim his beard than everybody else?) While not as bad as your first question, it's still somewhat stupid. Therefore, I refuse to answer it.


Just to let you know, there are four sex scenes in this movie. Okay, before you start giving each other frat boy-style high fives, I feel I should warn you that I could have sworn I saw a hint of anus in at least three of them. (Boy anus or girl anus?) Girl anus. Don't look so relieved, you know you wanna see some or all of the Samurai Cop's smouldering butthole.
  

Now, you could say this was a direct result of lackluster filmmaking on the part of director Amir Shervan, but there's no way I'm saying that. A hint of anus is a part of everyday life. Take it away and what are you left with? (Less anus?!?) Exactly. And who wants to live in a world with less anus? (Not me?!?) You know it.
  

Here's a bold statement: Samurai Cop is better than every Andy Sidaris film combined. The women are hotter (strong, forthright feminists without an ounce of silicon), the action is more exciting, the music is synthier (the score reminded me of A Split Second, the Belgian band, not the Rutger Hauer movie), and the dialogue is definitely more crisp. (Wait, more crisp? Are you sure you're not talking about a head of lettuce?) No, I'm talking about dialogue.


They might not be an established gang yet, but Fujiyama, the leader of Katana (which means "Japanese sword"), plans to change all that when he sends his favourite henchmen, Yamashita (Robert Z'Dar), to meet with the leader of a rival Chinese gang in Chinatown. And by "meet with," I mean, he straight-up kills his ass.
  

If the scene that introduces us to Katana, a gang that also includes karate expert Okamura (Gerald Okamura) and the sultry yet dangerous Cameron (Krista Lane), seems to fly by at a sprinter's pace, the scene that introduces us to their primary adversaries seems like an epic slog by comparison. Two cops, who could be on the edge (the status of where they're standing edge-wise is not known to us when the film gets underway), named Joe Marshall (Matt Hannon) and Frank Washington (Mark Frazer), are in pursuit of a van that is purportedly transporting a shitload of cocaine.
  

Utilizing the help of Peggy Lee Thomas (Melissa Moore), a sexually aggressive police helicopter pilot (if you're about to chop off a big black cock, make sure to send it her way before you do so, as she doesn't like to see big black cocks go to waste), Joe and Frank chase down the cocaine van (in a scene that is reminiscent of the classic car chase in To Live and Die in L.A.), dispatching a couple of henchmen along the way.
  

After capturing the driver of the van (who was badly burned at the end of the chase), Joe points up at Peggy, as if to say, I'll see your pretty little anus later. And since their encounter is filmed, we get to see her pretty little anus as well.
  

I think the main reason we see so much anus in this film is because people often overestimate the capacity of the thong to keep your anus covered at all times. While it might provide the coverage our anus shy society requires whilst the thong-ensnared individual is standing in the upright position. However, once the person starts moving around in a manner the engineers at the thong laboratories had not foreseen, that's when things could get a tad rectal, if you know what I mean.
  

Exposed anus or not, I couldn't help but cheer Peggy on as she rode Joe's cock to Pleasuretown, Population: Her orgasm. I think I might have even yelled, "Ride that Samurai Cop, you horny bint!" at one point.
  

(Hold on, Joe's the "Samurai Cop" in Samurai Cop? Am I crazy, or does he not look Japanese?) Ah, you see, according to Yamashita, who is also not Japanese, Joe, while technically not Japanese, was trained by a martial arts master in Japan, is fluent in Japanese, and was sent to L.A. from San Diego to fight Katana.
  

Oh, he's from San Diego all right, but there's no fucking way he's fluent in Japanese. I mean, he can barely speak English. Anyway, after Yamashita is finished telling his boss all about this Joe fella, Fujiyama, his thick Japanese mullet fluttering with mullet-fueled rage, demands that the van driver's head be placed on his piano, so that all can see what happens to the Katana members who get captured (Katana have a strict "don't get captured or else" policy).


And guess who's in charge of retrieving his head, that's right, Yamashita. But how is Yamashita going to get past the security at the hospital? Don't worry, Cameron is going to pretend to be a nurse and wheel Yamashita in a cart covered with a white sheet. Keep on an eye of Krista Lane's legs as she and Z'Dar are leaving the hospital with the van driver's head in tow, her white stockings turn to taupe stockings in an instant.
  

Speaking of keeping an eye on things, make sure to take special note of Mark Frazer's acting as a sexy nurse mocks Joe's lack of cock when it comes to the size of his cock. His style of acting, if you can call it "acting," reminded me of Dean Learner from Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, in that he's not putting on an act, he's telling truth.
  

After one set back after another, Captain Roma  (Dale Cummings) finally tells Frank that he's had enough of this "moron from San Diego." (Did he just call the "Samurai Cop" a "moron" right in front of the "Samurai Cop"?) He sure did. (Damn, I like this guy's style. But why is he so grumpy?) Well, for starters, he's got this club up his ass, and he's having the darndest time trying to figure a way to get it out. Nonetheless, Frank manages to sweet talk the captain, giving them some more time to achieve the desired result. And that is, take down the Katana gang.


You wouldn't think it was possible given the garments dire reputation in the fashion world, but Melissa Moore is somehow able to make lady police pants look good.
  

Getting a tip that Fujiyama likes to hang out at The Blue Lagoon restaurant, Joe and Frank stop by to annoy him–you know, let him know where they stand. And it's during this stand knowing session that Joe gets his first look at Jennifer (Jannis Farley), the actual owner of The Blue Lagoon. It's clear by the way they smile at one another that Joe is going to woo the living crap out of her.
  

It should go without saying, but I'm going to to say it anyway, the sight of Robert Z'Dar reloading his Uzi is a beautiful thing. Oh, and the reason he needs to reload his Uzi is because he needs to spray The Blue Lagoon parking lot with copious amounts of hot lead. The flunkies he instructed to kick Joe's ass failed to do just that, so, he had no choice but to kill them.
  

The fact that the giant lion head on the wall in Jennifer's office does not come up once during Joe and Jennifer's conversation ("Hey, what's with the lion head?" or "Nice lion head.") is one of the reasons this film rules so hard.
  

As Joe, Frank and Peggy lay siege to Gerald Okamura's house, you'll notice two things: 1) We get another glimpse of a woman's anus; and 2) A bored Peggy asks a fellow officer he wants to "fuck." I can sort of understand the slight anus, as accidental anus is par for the course in this film, but why would Peggy ask a fellow officer to "fuck" right as they're about to take out an important henchmen's home? That's simple really, she likes sexual intercourse.
 

Out of all the funerals that are going to be held over the coming weeks for the dozens of henchmen and flunkies killed throughout this film, the one I would like to attend would have to be one for the "Go Watch the Other Door" henchman. What can I say, I really dug his style. The other cool thing about not only the "Go Watch the Other Door" henchman, but the other henchmen as well, was how each henchman died (i.e. fell to the ground after being shot) in a manner that was entirely unique.
 

The biggest mystery surrounding Samurai Cop was not the excessive amount of anal generosity, or the identity of the actress who plays "Sally," the leggy wife of a cop Z'Dar and the boys terrorize to learn the location of the "Samuari Cop," but the bandage on Melissa Moore's leg. Was the bandage part of her character's arc (a sex-related injury, perhaps?), or did Melissa Moore really cut her leg? If anyone runs into Melissa Moore, please tell her I'm concerned about her leg. Being that's it's not the 1980s anymore, I'm sure the cut has healed by now. But still, it makes you think.


Did I mention that Samurai Cop is better than every Andy Sidaris film combined? Oh, I did, eh? Well then, that's all you really need know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pretend that I'm about to attend a henchmen's funeral.