Hollywood Cop (Amir Shervan, 1987)

Hollywood cop?!? Yeah, right. Hollywood opportunist is more like it. Swooping in like a hungry vulture who has just spotted a wounded wildebeest, Det. Turquoise (David Goss, who, you might remember, was a production assistant on last season's The Bachelorette), "Turkey" to his friends, might look like he wants to help a struggling single mother get her son back from a gang of ruthless gangsters, but he's got an ulterior motive. Don't let his sort of strapping good looks or his fondness for denim fool you, he's got six million dollars on his mind. I know, how is a "struggling single mother" gonna scrounge together six million dollars to pay the gangsters who are holding her son for ransom? She isn't, but if she wants to see her son alive again, she better find out where her ex-husband is hiding, as the gangsters expect him to pay the hefty ransom. You see, her ex-husband stole six million from the gangsters, and when the gangsters discover his ex-wife living on a communal ranch outside of town, the gangsters attack it with the sole purpose of snatching their son. As expected, the regular cops drag their feet when it comes to investigating the possible whereabouts of her missing child. Oh, sure, they fill out all the necessary paperwork, but finding little Stevie (Brandon Angle) isn't exactly their top priority.

(Are you sure that when Det. Turkey, and his partner, Jaguar (Lincoln Kilpatrick), approached a sobbing Rebecca (Julie Schoenhofer) on the street outside police headquarters in Hollywood, California that he had money on his mind? I mean, it looked like he was genuinely concerned about her welfare.) In the early going, yes, he was "genuinely concerned." But the moment he found out there was six million dollars at stake, his whole demenour seemed to change.

(You're crazy.) Am I? Things are never what they seem in the shadowy world of writer-director Amir Shervan (Samurai Cop), and the hard-boiled Hollywood Cop is no different in that regard.

(I agree, you should always be on guard when dealing with an artist on the level of Amir Shervan, but I think your innate cynicism is clouding your judgment.

It's true, he probably had poontang on his mind when he decided to help out a wayward soul, one who just happens to be an attractive blonde. But I assure you, money wasn't a factor in his decision.)

Let me get this straight, you mean to tell me that Turkey risked his life to assist some woman he barely knows, and he's doing it strictly out of the goodness of his heart? Is that what you're telling me?

Moving on, a sort of sneak preview of the sheer awesomeness we're going to experience in the not-so distant future with Samurai Cop, you could view Hollywood Cop as a dress rehearsal for what's to come. Lacking the incompetent sheen that made Samurai Cop so great, Hollywood Cop has all the right ingredients: The prerequisite white cop-black cop partnership; a ponytail-sporting policewomen in lady police pants (unlike Peggy in Samurai Cop, who will fuck anything with a pulse, the lady police pants worn by the policewoman in Hollywood Cop, as Turkey finds out, aren't so easy to get into); sofas covered in leggy floozies; a gruff, Tums-popping police captain (hey, it's Cameron Mitchell); tons of bumbling henchmen; a synthy music score; and overlong car and foot chases.

I'm sure most Amir Shervan connoisseurs will agree that this film is missing a certain something, or, I sould say, a certain someone. You know what it's missing? Robert Z'Dar! Every five or so minutes, I would think to myself: This film could use a little Robert Z'Dar right about now. Oh, who am I kidding? This film could use a lot of Robert Z'Dar. But you know what? He's not in this film, so stop being such a big baby.

As horny henchmen are fighting over the right to feel up a leggy babe in a short black skirt by the pool, their boss, Feliciano (James Mitchum), shows up demanding to know how the plans for the upcoming raid of a communal ranch are coming along. According to one of the more sensible henchmen, the one not named "Animal," the raid is ready to go.

Get this, as the raid is about to get underway, Rebecca tells Stevie to stop washing his pet goat. And even though she tells him to stop washing his pet goat in the nicest way possible, it would be a shame if that was the last thing Rebecca ever said to little Stevie.

I'm curious, when Rebecca went to the police to report that her son had been kidnapped by gangsters, did she mention the fact that the gangsters shot and killed dozens of ranch people during their elaborately planned raid? 'Cause I'm sure they would take her case more seriously if they knew a massacre had occurred just up the street. Just kidding, I'm not curious about that. No, what I really want to know is, did Stevie's pet goat survive the raid?

Anyway, I think it's time we met some leggy floozies, don't you? Assembled for the benefit of Feliciano, the leggy floozies hope to work at one of his clubs.

A total of eight leggy floozies are hoping to work for Feliciano: #1 - A floozy in a shiny bluish red top with spaghetti straps and dark trousers. (Hey, how come you didn't call her a "leggy floozy"?) Um, she wore trousers, and therefore she lost the right to be called "leggy." #2 - She doesn't sit with her legs crossed (a must for leggy floozies), but she is wearing a modest white dress with what looks like a pair of tan stockings.

Leggy floozy #3 definitely knows how to get noticed. Poured into a little black dress, leggy floozy #3 will no doubt drive her potential boss wild with her unorthodox sitting style. While not as forthright as leggy floozy #3, leggy floozy #4, who is wearing a dark dress with short sleeves, counters #3's forthrightness with a sitting technique that practically screamed haughty chic.

Someone get leggy floozy #5 a handbook on how sit like a leggy floozy, as her sedentary method was all over the map when it came to reclining in a manner becoming of leggy floozies.

The only one smart enough to employ the majestic splendour that only black stockings can provide, leggy floozy #6 destroys the competition with her leg-tastic display whilst in the seated position. Wearing a blue sequined top, a black skirt, and, of course, black stockings, leggy floozy #6 also earns points for being the only leggy floozy to sport a hairstyle that had any pizazz.

What's this, it would appear that leggy floozy #7 is attempting to use the arm rest of the couch to enhance her legginess. At first, I was somewhat annoyed by this bit of couch-based chicanery. But then it dawned me, she's just doing whatever it takes to get a leg up in the cutthroat world of leggy floozies. And at the end of the day, you've got to admire that kind of ingenuity.

I would have liked to have included leggy floozy #8 in this unnecessarily detailed examination of the leggy floozies that appear in a two minute scene in Hollywood Cop, but she never sits down. How can I judge your worth as a leggy floozy if you don't sit down? It's impossible.

After a Hollywood-centric montage set to a song that featured lyrics like, "desperation... nowhere to run!" we meet Turkey as he's about to bust up a rape and robbery. Instead of waiting for Lt. Maxwell (Troy Donahue) to show up, Turk decides to take care of it himself. I know, how can he take care of it when he just ordered a hot dog? (Don't worry, the hot dog cart lady said she'll keep it warm for him while he kills him some rapists.) Yeah, but, when he's done doing that, he doesn't pick up the hot dog. (Yeah, he does. I heard him specifically tell the hot dog cart lady to put some ketchup and mustard on it.) I heard that, too. But trust me, he never eats it. (You mean to tell me that he made the hot dog cart lady jump through multiple hoops to keep his hot dog warm and never bothered to eat it?) That's right. (What an ass.)

Getting a tip from a guy who runs a bar that specializes in mud and oil wrestling, Turkey and Jaguar manage to track down Rebecca's ex-husband.

His name is Joe Fresno, and I dig his style.

(Isn't Rebecca's ex-husband supposed to be worth six million dollars?) Yeah, so?

(Well, the size of his backyard does not reflect his so-called wealth.)

His backyard? You're looking at his backyard? Some people. At any rate, I have no idea who plays Joe Fresno, but... (Yeah, yeah, you dig his style.) You're goddamned right I do.

(Does Rebecca get her son back?) What son? (You remember, the little blonde kid who can communicate with mean-looking guard dogs.) Oh yeah, him. (Well, does she get the kid back or what?) I don't know, who gives a shit. I've got less important things to think about.

It should go without saying, but Hollywood Cop sort of sucks, but it also sort of rules as well. In other words, when a film like this calls you collect, you should definitely accept the charges, 'cause your ass is about to be entertained.