What do you get when you put writer Snoo Wilson and director Phillip Saville (Crash: The Mystery of Flight 1501), two Shakespearean-trained and BBC-TV nurtured chaps, into a room to create a project for an always worth the price-of-admission Patick Macnee? You get an obscurity that had its last television showing in its native U.K. on Channel Four in April 1998; in Australia in 1996. As with the recently reviewed Mill Creek The Excellent Eighties box set programmer, Blunt, the Fourth Man (1987), Shadey was part of Channel Four’s efforts in making movies for television and theatrical release.

So, with a touch of David Cronenberg’s Scanners (1981) and a pinch of Videodrome (1983), and a soupçon of Brian De Palma The Fury (1978), and, why not, a dash of Douglas Trumbull’s Brainstorm (1983), we get Oliver Shadey: a sexually-frustrated, lonely car mechanic-owner of a bankrupt garage who decides to cash-in on his ESP abilities.

Our man Shadey (Antony Sher, from Monty Python’s Erik the Viking to Joe Johnson’s The Wolfman) isn’t your run-of-the-mill clairvoyant: he can visualize anything happening in the world — as well as see into the future — and transfer those images to film. So Shadey makes a deal with Sir Cyril Landau (Patrick Macnee), a wealthy British industrialist — who subsequently sells him out to British Intelligence for his own person gain. Oh, and it’s not just personal and business bankruptcy that drives Shadey’s greed: he needs the money for a sex change operation.

Oh, by the way: this is a comedy.

We know this is a comedy, not because of the sex change operation angle, but because Shadey runs around with a camera strapped to the side of his head. And because the film opens with aerobics porn. And there’s a goth-punk band video shoot with shapely women swingin’ hoola-hoops — while adorned in gas masks. And Sir Landau may be in an incestuous relationship with his daughter. And Shady cross-dresses and dates an older man. And the film co-stars noted U.S television actress Katherine Helmond (Soap, Who’s the Boss, and Everybody Loves Raymond), who’s not exactly know for her work in serious, dramatic roles.

So, what’s with the camera and how did Shadey and Sir Landau get into business? Well, by way of his abilities, Shadey’s discovered a new, Russian diamond field excavation in the heart of Siberia. And Shadey “knows” how much Sir Landau loves his diamonds. Once the word is out on Shadey’s gift, he’s on the run with the MI5 the CIA hot pursuit — evil government psychologist Doctor Cloud (Billie Whitelaw, 1976’s The Omen to 2007’s Hot Fuzz), in particular — as we are left questioning what is real and what is hallucination in our reluctant-spy’s mind. Helping Shadey are Macnee’s agoraphobic-looney wife (Helmond) and materialistic model daughter (Leslie Ash, The Who’s Quadrophenia and Curse of the Pink Panther).

Since we are dealing with a movie created by two classically-trained BBC filmmakers, the proceedings are assembled well-enough, there’s a couple laughs amid the seriousness, and the acting from all quarters is solid — that’s played straight against the comedy.

You know what?

Forget the comedic Cronenberg inference: this is sounding all a wee-bit like a John Carpenter joint. Celluloid project with me: Instead of British actor Antony Sher: Chevy Chase stars as Shadey and Daryl Hannah stars as our evil operative instead of Billie Whitelaw, as we foreshadow the sci-fi black comedy bomb that was Memoirs of an Invisible Man (1992). “North by Northwest meets Starman,” indeed, John. Indeed.

Since those late ’90s TV airings, Shadey has since turned up on DVD (DVD Planet Store and DVD Lady are two outlets), but caveat your regions and emptor your grey-market DVR discs, dear readers. Shop smart. You can also find copies of Shadey on Amazon Prime UK (again, region and grey alerts).

You can watch Shadey online via a with-ads stream on You Tube as a sign-in view courtesy of FilmRise Features (there’s a lot of eclectic uploads on their page, so check ’em out) or as a (very clean) VOD on Amazon Prime US.

Hey, Mill Creek! Give us Shadey on a DVD — even on a box set. Hey, Shout! Factory, do for Shadey what you did for that Chevy Chase stinkeroo. We, the denizens of the video fringe, demand it.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

We name drop David A. Prior often around the B&S About Movies’ worker hives, because, well, we dig ’em and bag o’ chips. If you’re not familiar David A.’s work, our reviews of The Silencer, aka Body Count, and the one-two punch of the apoc-adventures of John Tucker in Future Zone and Future Force (from our past April “Apoc Week”) will get you started. And we kid about our admiration of Dave’s three-dozen-plus strong resume: What David A. Prior movie that doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. And when you add Eric Roberts in a quickie name-on-the-box role, we are all in — and twice on Sundays. (And yes, we know that’s a bad joke, because, sadly, we did lose David A. Prior in August 2015, but in no way is that “joke” in disrespect. We love ’em around here at B&S, as we build upon adding more and more reviews of his films to the site.)

And here’s three of them. Yes. This review has Easter Eggs. Let’s crack ’em, shall we?

This time out, Dave keeps it low-key and stays away from the post-apoc, zombies, dragons, and war films of the past. This time, David A. goes “hicksplotation” with the dependable city-folks-run-afoul-of-the-country folks action plot — which was done best by the likes of John Boorman’s influential Deliverance that was, in turn, retro’d to a solid effect with Robert C. Hughes’s Hunter’s Blood. However, this time, instead of a group of fish-out-of-water dick-swingin’ city folk, the penile malcontents are the country folk — and one of them is the backwater town’s mayor (played to an evil-hammy perfection by Vernon “The Wez of Mad Max” Wells). And while there’s not a deeper, underlying social statement about America’s class structure that questions who is stronger in a battle of wills between primitive man vs. civilized man, à la Boorman’s Deliverance, the “change up” is that those backwoods lotharios — and one lotharioette, the mayor’s squeeze, natch — are bested by one woman: ex-Australian Intelligence Operative and MMA Fighter played by Leilani Sarelle, who also owns and operates her own martial arts gym.

Uh, oh.

So, how do you know Leliani Sarelle?

Well, remember when Tom Cruise got duped by his race crew with the stripper disguised as a Highway Patrol Officer in Days of Thunder? Oh, and in Basic Instinct: Leilani played Sharon Stone’s Catherine Tramell’s girlfriend. And yes: she got her start in our beloved Neon Maniacs! That’s Leliani Sarelle — and it’s nice to see her hard work pushed her into a well-earned leading role. Oh, and trivia alert: Leliani is part of the Clooney family and hung out with the famous George of the clan (she even appeared on TV’s Roseanne when George was on that series) by way of her marriage to Miguel Ferrer, the son of Jose Ferrer, by way of George’s Aunt Rosemary, the famed ’40s and ’50s singer. Oh, and let’s not forget: keep your eyes open for Lisa Langlois from Class of 1984, Deadly Eyes, Happy Birthday to Me, and Phobia.

So, with the film trivia is out of the way, let’s get on with the story . . . which throws back to the mother of all “death sport” stories: 1932’s The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell — which fueled the likes of the mother of “death sport” movies: 1965’s The 10th Victim by Elio Petri.

When Victoria De Vries’s (Sarelle) daughter goes off camping with her boyfriend (in flip-flops, no less) they head into the local redneck general store for a pee and a phone, because, well, out here, it’s the ol’ cellphone-don’t-work trope (that’s not a rip on David; all films are like that; batteries and alternators die on brand-new cars in the movies, too — they have to, or there’d be no story to tell). And, the city folk have a snippy attitude, natch — and well, little sis De Vries is pretty cute. So, with the town mayor, again, Vernon Wells, leading the charge — with one of his minions being David’s brother Ted (who’s been all of his brother’s films) — they head off into the woods for a little sumthin’ sumthin’ (wink, wink). And they slit the boyfriend’s throat, do the ol’ weigh-’em-down-with-rocks thing into the water and kidnap Victoria’s daughter.

So, the “sport” begins when our backwoods idiots — who have been doing this for years, thanks to the looks-the-other-way-corrupt Sheriff — learn, thanks to Vicki, Jr.’s jibber-jabber bragging about mom’s past, that mom would make for a nice “game piece” and lure her into the woods. This is a town where, when one of the general store rednecks tries to pull shite with Victoria, she kicks his ass instead of being raped — and she’s arrested and tossed in jail. But again: the Sheriff and the Mayor are stacking the chips on their little backwood’s “game field.”

In the end: It’s all very, very bad idea, Mr. Mayor: Victoria De Vries has a bigger “dick” than you.

And just when you think this will kick ass and take names with a nice feminist message — the story decides to take a little snooze in the tent . . . with talking and chitty-chatty . . . and grimacing and scowling hammy thespin’ . . . and nothing really “kicks ass” until the last half of the third and final act.

“Hey, where’s Eric Roberts in all of this?”

Well, his name-on-the-box scene is with Sherrie Rose (who made her debut in the apoc’er Cy Warrior, the teen comedy Summer Job, and made a pretty cool Easy Rider update with Me and Will). She’s the related/sister of the Mayor’s wife (we think; the whole scene is “out of the country” and looks like it’s cut-in from an entirely different movie and doesn’t make much sense), and makes a deal for Roberts to store his drug inventory . . . in the town where games pieces go to die. In his second scene, Eric actually appears — unlike in most of his flicks — with other principal cast members, in this case, Vernon Wells and Ted Prior. But again, what’s this all have to do with the “death sport” game plot? Nothing. We think, at first, that Eric is one of those gangsters of the Eli Roth-variety who’s into the Hostel “Elite Hunting Club,” but no. Again, it’s like Roberts and Rose dropped in from another flick, entirely. It literally feels like a “pad” for the film’s short running time. You need 10 more minutes of film to get the running time out to an hour and a half: call in Eric Roberts and we’ll make the scene “fit,” somehow.

Oh, and to level the playing field: Mark Rolston — who you know best as Private Drake in Aliens (and over 180-other movies) — is an ex-special forces op Major hired to take out the troublesome Victoria De Vries, who has proven harder to kill than expected. Like Roberts, Rolston’s not here that much, but, like Roberts, what little he’s here, he’s effective — as always. And when Rolston shows up, that’s when things really kick into gear — with a nice knife-through-the-mouth-into-the-tree kill and thumbs-diggin’-out-the-eyeballs kill. Oh, and it turns out Victoria knows the Major from a bungled Middle East mission op — and he took the gig with an ulterior motive: a good ol’ fashioned revenge kill for outing him on the mission to their joint superiors. Their fight scenes — choreographed by five-time world kickboxing champion Kathy Long as the film’s stunt coordinator — are the best parts of the film that more than make up for the lagging talking and yakity-yak first and second “set up” acts.

Anyway . . . being a big David A. Prior fan — and being well-versed in his works via his Action International Pictures, and taking into consideration he got his start with the self-financed SOV-horror Sledgehammer in 1983 — Relentless Justice turns out to be a well-written, plot-twisty film that’s well-shot with decent direction and editing. And thinking back to Sledgehammer: the gore is vastly improved here. Overall, the film’s not great, when compared to other ’80s-actioners set in the woods — Arnie’s Commando and Sly’s First Blood — from which it takes its cues, but Relentless Justice isn’t awful, either.

Now, I know what you’re wondering: what happened to Eric Roberts’s drug stash? Did all the shite go down before the drug deal was done? Did the drugs ship to the town to be stored — and, when the Sheriff, the Mayor and their minions were all dead — did his Deputy, who turned her back and let Victoria kill the last man standing, aka the Sheriff, confiscate the drugs? There was a hint of a lesbian subtext, so did the female Deputy and Vicki hook up? Does Eric come back in a sequel? Does he go after Vicki, blaming her for losing his drug stash? Or does he go after the Deputy — who’s now the new Sheriff — and Vicki returns to kick ass, again? Does Sherrie Rose end up being the town’s new mayor?

Sadly, there was no sequel to tie that Eric Roberts loose end as, well, David passed away after the release of Relentess Justice — if there was even an intended sequel on the future adventures of Victoria De Vries.

Now, you may not know David A. as well as I, so if I tell you Relentless Justice feels a lot like his fourth feature film, Deadly Prey (1987), that’ll mean nothing. That film — starring Cameron Mitchell (Space Mutiny) with Troy Donahue (Shock ’em Dead) — also clips from The Most Dangerous Game, as a group of sadistic mercenaries kidnap people off the streets and set them loose on the grounds of their secret camp, so their “students” at the camp can learn how to track down and kill their prey.

See, how similar it is? And there’s one more bunny egg to crack.

Ted Prior’s Mike Danton from Deadly Prey returns in the 26-years-in-the-making sequel, The Deadliest Prey (2013). Nearly three decades after his abduction by the psychotic mercenaries from the first film, Danton, heads back to those Mobile, Alabama, backwater woods to stop the games that started up again — games backed by an Internet company that broadcasts the games on the web.

Are they any good?

Hell, yes! The first one from 1987 is your expected, cheap-but effective against-the-budget David A. Prior fun fest. The remake-cum-sequel stands tall to the quality of Relentless Justice — as it should: since both were shot back-to-back in the same neck of Mobile, Alabama, woods with the same crew — but the updated “dark web” angle is a nice update to the old story from 1987.

It saddens me David passed, as the quality of his films grew by leaps and bound since the likes of his ol’ David Carradine apoc-romps with the John Tucker adventures in Future Force and Future Zone. There’s were definitely some more solid films from David A. to be had.

You can watch Relentless Justice, Deadly Prey, and The Deadliest Prey on You Tube. And check out our interview with Vernon Wells!

About the Author: You can read the music and film reviews of R.D Francis on Medium and learn more about his work on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

Pumpkin, peaches, pumpkin pie, stick a needle in my eye . . . this friggin’ movie. Well, at least it gives us a lead actor — Christopher Cain, in his only film role — crooning his original tune, “Thunder Mountain.” But it ain’t no Jay Ferguson singin’ “Thunder Island” or Michael Martin Murphy lamenting about Indian girls from coming down Yellow Mountain in “Wild Fire.”

No, dear reader, be not copywriter duped: for wisdom nor terror is to be found in the abyss that is The Force on Thunder Mountain, Benjy and ghost skulls, and Osmond family connections, be damned. Yes. Osmonds.

We get a portrayal of “Alan Osmond” in the deal — that is, if you watched the TV movie Side by Side: The True Story of the Osmond Family (1982) — by Todd Dutson, here, in his second and final film role; he debut-stars alongside the once-and-gone, croonin’ Cain. But don’t come a-knockin’ for anymore roles from Borge West (who produced) and David Fogg (who did sound), as they’re done and gone as actors, padre. But producer George Gale, who got his start as an editor on Phantom from Space (1953), stuck and stayed in the business. His crazy, 80-plus credits producer resume led to his working with our beloved J.S Cardone on Outside Ozona (1998) to hooking up with Sly Stallone on Rambo (2008) and The Expendables 2 (2012), as well as Conan the Barbarian (2011).

Now, Utah-based actor James Lyle Strong is another story: Primarily a stage actor, he was in eight other films. Did you see Strong’s work in The Great Brain (1978), get this, starring Jimmy Osmond of the Osmond clan? (The other Osmond’s film was 1978’s Goin’ Coconuts!, if you care.) Now you see the connection on how Todd Duston got his Osmond bioflick gig — and proof that “networking” on the set, works. Oh, and Strong has a six-degrees of separation from Rollerball (1975), well, one degree: he co-stars in the abysmal remake of H.G Wells’s The Time Machine (1978; we’re working on that one) with John “Moonpie” Beck — a film so abysmal that it was meant for theaters but dumped on TV to be a ratings bomb.

It’s all brought to us by director Peter B. Good, here in his feature film directing debut. He’d go on to direct one more film: a shocking stylistic turn with an SOV-nasty take on the Jack the Ripper legend that is Fatal Exposure (1989). As a cinematographer and incognito producer, Good gave us the death-docs Faces of Death III and IV (1985/1990). This from a guy who was noted for his early ’70s wildlife documentarian work and made box office bank as the producer and cinematographer for the Stewart Raffill (High Risk) directed The Adventures of the Wilderness Family (1975).

While Good’s second and final directing effort, the aforementioned-linked Fatal Exposure, showed a lot of potential for future growth, that potential is lost in wilds of this not-haunted forest romp. What’s really crazy: Good was also the cinematographer on one of my childhood favorites: the family nature movie Chandar, the Black Leopard of Ceylon (1972), which was part of The Wonderful World of Disney Sunday evening TV movie blocks.

No, Disney nostalgia will not blind this reviewer. Not this time. And no bogus “SF” sticker on the VHS will dupe me this time, either. Again, ghostly skulls, be damned. Or cute dogs. Or Osmonds.

Sure, there’s a sci-fi element stumbling about the Osmond Family Utah wood, but this is a straight up, light weight drama for the family set. Courtesy of United Home Video — one of the better distributors on the market — The Force on Thunder Mountain was everywhere, on every video store shelf out there, right alongside another hornswogglin’ family flick, Mystery Mansion (1984), which ended up in the horror section — but was anything but horror. We mention the latter since both family fests were paired as a Saturday afternoon UHF-TV two-fer programmer in the late ’80s. (Oy! Mystery Mansion; I never understood a “family” movie having bondage scenes with kidnappers making death threats by shotgun, but it exists.)

Anyway . . . what’s a single parent with a paranormal fetish to do when he’s stuck with his kid for the weekend and he needs to explore a haunted mountain forest: take the kid along for some fresh air and father-son bonding, demons — or whatever the hell is on Thunder Mountain — be damned.

So, is Ash up there poking around a skin-bound book and pissing off a Sumerian demon via a reel-to-reel?

Sorry, Cletus. Yahs gotta leaves yer Raimi hopes down at the general store at the small town at the foot of the mountain, as no Equinox (1970) — be it lunar or solar — shall converge on Thunder Mountain. But you’ll “taste the rainbow” as showers of Skittles will fall. Hopefully, you picked up a bag of Reese’s Pieces at the general store, Elliot . . . as we cue the UFO stock footage from the 1953 version of Invaders from Mars and a repurposed Jupiter-2 from Irwin Allen’s Lost in Space. Then we’ll call up a couple of 1800s Gabby Hayes-cum-Jack Elam prospectors to the set, as said UFOs will telekinetic some rocks, or is that electromagnetic-field some rocks, to scare them out of them there hills . . . because “something” is out there that can not be found. Mum’s the word.

Meanwhile, in the present day . . . father and son hike and talk. And ad-lib awful non-dialog. And hike. And talk. And dad assures his son that “. . . it’s just the wind” and not to worry about those never-seen-before footprints. And feign excitement at the animal stock footage of cougar cubs and coyote pups.

Then things go all phantasmal — sans any dimensional forks from red planet Tall Man — as dad and son walk from the woods . . . into a dry, desert lake bed. Is that the Overlook Hotel I see in the horizon? Is the kid going to channel Danny Torrence and redrum all of God’s creatures great and small? And we hope against hope that Steve Austin and Bigfoot from the two-part “The Secret of Bigfoot” story arc (1976) shows up. And we hope Christopher George will appear to bring along the bastard-pups-of-Jaws plot from Grizzly (1976). And we wished Dan Haggerty showed up . . . denied. Hags was committed to the NBC-TV series The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams, and chose to work with Linda Blair in The Chilling (1989), instead. And Elves (1989). And a couple of evil Keeblers in a Utah redwood would be welcomed. Even a errant, psychotic Leprechaun (1993) would help.

Yeah, if Lee Majors starred as the dad, Christopher George as a ranger, and Dan Haggerty as the mountain prospector. And we had a Bigfoot vs. Bear smack down to go with the UFO. And an Overlook Hotel. And some Coscarelli dimensional forks. And an actual Osmond showed up. But we digress.

Instead, we get James Lyle Strong — the most experienced, best actor of the bunch — as the scraggly-bearded not-Dan Haggerty dude named Om — a 1,000-year-old, crash-landed alien armed with a Translator, a techno-trinket that makes thoughts a reality, restores cut down trees, and scare off nasty bears. The Translator also needs to fend off Om, as the screenplay (unintentionally, we think) errs to the side of pedophile — with the “sleeping arrangements” to “teach” our young lad to inherit the Translator to protect the mountain. Or something. No wonder Jimmy Osmond traveled not to Thunder Mountain as a follow up to The Great Brain. Maybe if Angus Scrimm starred as Om, it’d be less creepy; he was also the Lady in Lavender, and the kids does need a mom, after all.

Just wow. The Force is not strong with this one.

If you thought Starship Invasions (1977), Ed Hunt’s Canadian E.T. knockoff courtesy of Hal Roach Studios, was bonkers. And that Sunn Classic Pictures’ picnic basket was a ham sandwich short with the UFO paranoia that is Hangar 18 (1980). Oh, dear reader, how ye assumed the alien nuns overlorded by Christopher Lee’s priest in the extraterrestrial Catholicism that is End of the World (1977) was a VHS force to be reckoned. Oh, no. Not when you have a 1,000-year-old pedophilic alien camped at the foot of Thunder Mountain dangling the “candy” that is the Translator. Calling Planet NAMBLA, there’s a faux-Elliot with dysfunctional family issues ripe for a home phoner. Ick.

So, who’s the production company behind this extraterrestrial nature film boondoggle, a company Mr. Lucas didn’t sue for wrangling his film for their title?

Hey! It’s drive-in and TV supplier American National Enterprises: a company steeped in nature documentaries since the mid-’60s. As with Sunn Classic Pictures, ANE occasionally broke away from the stock footagementaries to produce Z-grade dramas for the drive-ins and television. There are, however, a few highlights of the B&S About Movies variety, such as the Dennis Christopher curio Didn’t You Hear (1970), the Rod Serling-fronted anthology Encounter with the Unknown (1972), the Greek faux-giallo Medusa (1973), and the ancient astronaut oddity Mysteries from Beyond Earth (1975). ANE came to leave the producing to others and stuck to distributing films, such as She (1982), Ironmaster (1983), and, frack me, Joe D’Amoto’s Endgame (1983). The imprint closed shop after the Vincent Price-starring anthology TV movie Escapes (1986).

Since The Force on Thunder Mountain has never been digitized and officially reissued to DVD (here’s the trailer) — not even in a VHS-ripped DVR grey format — there’s no VOD or freebie-stream to share, not even a VHS rip. There are, however, steeply-prices used VHS copies available in the online marketplace.

Hopefully, Mill Creek — which released the other American National Enterprises’ films we’ve reviewed, linked above, via their box sets — will reissue this family oddity. As with most of these lost obscurities of the UHF-’70s, the Park Circus/Arts Alliance TV distribution library catalogs the film. Other lost, out-of-print films in their library that we’ve reviewed include Song of the Succubus and Goodbye, Franklin High. So, yes, it’s time for Park Circus to get into the DVD box set business or work out a deal with Mill Creek to preserve these lost films.

Yeah, it’s the awful films I remember the best. My brain is weird that way.

About the Author: You can learn about the work of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S Movies.

This review is all about expatriate American actors Gordon Mitchell and Richard Harrison.

This review is not, however, about — although it spews bullets and blows up like one — an ’80s First Blood-cum-Commando Philippines war flick rip. And it’s not about an ’80s Italian First Blood-cum-Commando Philippines-esque war flick rip, either. And it’s also known as — to add to the you’re-sure-it’s-not-a-Philippines-flick confusion — Terror Force Commando, which sounds exactly like something Silver Star Productions in Manila would dump into the home video market under the thumb of directors Jun Gallardo, Cirio H. Santiago, or Teddy Page.

But I digress, again. Bad reviewer. Go sit in the “time out corner” to ferment and wallow in your lazy, ensuing and trope-laden self.

So . . . this is where I front-end this review and tell you nada about the film because it’s all about the fanboy geekdom here at B&S About Movies which, in this case, is rife with Gordon Mitchell and Richard Harrison worship. Yeah, I am weird that way, with my equally “weird” reviews. So, if you’re more into the ol’ rat-a-tat-tat plot-spoiler reviews, stop reading here. Then go over to the dryness of Wikipedia or the chatter of the IMDb for your turned-on-to-new-movie needs.

Okay, then. Anyhoo . . . let’s load this sucker into the VCR.

Born Charles Allen Pendleton in Denver, Colorado, Gordon “The Bronze Giant” Mitchell became the requisite Italian-peplum actor by way of his bit parts in The Ten Commandments (1956) and Spartacus (1960). Then Steve Reeves made bank with Hercules (1958), so beefcakes like Pendleton — regardless of their lack in speaking Italian — headed off into the Neapolitan sunset, with films such as Atlas Against the Cyclops and The Giant of Metropolis (both 1961), Vulcan, Son of Jupiter and Caesar Against the Pirates (both 1962), and a bundle of spaghetti westerns, such as Three Graves for a Winchester (1966), along with Poliziotteschis and Giallos. Did Pendleton-Mitchell do Italian Space Operas? He did: 2+5 Mission Hydra (1966). Did he do Nazisploitation? He did: Achung! The Desert Tigers! (1977). Sexploitation? He did: Porno-Erotic Western (1979). Joe D’Amato even got Gordon Mitchell into the post-apoc game with Endgame (1983).

Then Mitchell’s career, like all careers do, cooled. So, along with fellow expatriate American actors, such as the equally B&S fandom’d Richard Harrision and Mike Monty, Gordon Mitchell headed off to the Philippines to work with John Gale, aka Jun Gallardo, the “star” of Silver Star Productions.

Silver Star is a studio you’ve heard mentioned during our “Philippines War Week” this month (and our PWW II coming in December). All of those Philippine war flicks rotate the same actors, either in new footage, or via old footage cut-in from other films; the recycling resulted in the likes of actors such as Mike Cohen, Jim Gaines, Romano Kristoff, Mike Monty, Nick Nicholson, Ronnie Patterson, Paul Vance, and Ken Watanabe (no, not that one; the Nine Deaths of the Ninja one) “starring” in movies they didn’t even sign up to appear in. In fact, the recycling into films of lesser and lesser production value ended up damaging the career of Gordon Mitchell and Richard Harrison; after a string of plagiarized Philippines hokum, no studios of note wanted to work either of them.

But before he made his way down to the South Seas, Gordon Mitchell started pumping out the Sly-Arnie rips — peppered with Raiders of the Lost Ark seasonings — for the Italians, the Turks, and Germans with the likes of Treasures of the Lost Desert, Diamond Connection, and White Fire (all 1984), and Operation Nam (1986). Then there’s Commando Invasion (1986) for Jun Gallardo.

Richard Harrison made his debut in South Pacific (1958) alongside Tom “Billy Jack” Laughlin and Ron “Tarzan” Ely, then signed with American International Pictures to appear in a wide array of peplum, Eurospy, poliziotteschi, and Spaghetti Westerns in Italy. It’s said that Richard Harrison was offered — and turned down — A Fistful of Dollars. And we know that film turned out. However, as with Gordon Mitchell, Harrison’s career cooled, so he headed down to Hong Kong and the Philippines to continue his career.

Harrison acted in five flicks for K.Y. Lim’s stock footage-and-everything-else-stocked celluloid factory o’ sausage that is Silver Star Productions: Fireback, Hunter’s Crossing, and Blood Debts, which were directed by Teddy Page, and two for Jun Gallardo: Intrusion Cambodia and Rescue Team. Fireback gave Harrison a chance to write, under the pen-name of Timothy Jorge.

Then Godfrey Ho came along and compounded Richard Harrison’s career problems.

Harrison contracted to make a couple of low-budget ninja films for Ho. Then Ho cut-and-pasted, as is the par for the celluloid in Southeast Asian cinema of the low-budget variety, Harrison “starring” in the films Ninja Terminator, Cobra Vs. Ninja, Golden Ninja Warrior and Diamond Nínja Force. The list goes on and on of films that Harrison didn’t sign for but “starred in.”

So . . . back to the review of Three Men on Fire, aka Terror Force Commando, which is Richard Harrison’s fourth and final directing effort. His others were the Spaghetti Westerns Acquasanta Joe (1971), Two Brothers in Trinity (1972), and the Hong Kong action piece Challenge of the Tiger (1980). In addition to Two Brothers, Fireback, and Three Men on Fire, he also wrote Blood Debts for Teddy Page. And his final screenwriting effort: Claudio Fragasso and Bruno Mattei’s co-directing mess that is Scalps — no, not the Fred Olen Ray 1983 one — there is the Richard Harrison-penned one.

Casting his longtime friends and many-times co-stars Romano Kristoff and Gordon Mitchell in his long-gestating pet project, this Italian Poliziotteschi action-thriller concerns Richard Harrison’s CIA agent teaming with a Cameroonian police officer played by Alphonse Beni (1987’s Black Ninja, aka Ninja: Silent Assassin, with Richard Harrison; Top Mission for Godfrey Ho) who try to prevent the Pope’s assassination by Italian terrorists (headed by Romano Kristoff, in one of his few villain roles) during the Holiness’s Central African tour.

Thanks to the international cast and all of the film’s globetrotting between Africa and Italy — and Alfonso Beni, a star in his homeland as an actor, writer, and director, not speaking English — there’s lot of dubbing afoot. And since this is a low-budget joint, most of it is shot-on-the-fly sans permits, so there’s lots of wide shots with minimal close ups, reverses, and close ups that you’d get from an A-List American-made film in the buddy-cop action genre. As with the Hong Kong and Philippines films that damaged his career, Harrison isn’t (at not least here) much of a director himself, as we’re subjected to the same ol’ poorly framed shots compounded by choppy, cut-off editing. In the end, it all looks just like those K.Y. Lim Silver Star Productions of old by Jun Gallardo — and that it was shot in the ’70s and not in the mid-’80s in a post-Lethal Weapon franchise world.

Well . . . eh . . . maybe it’s not all that bad; Harrison’s poliziotteschi romp is just as “poliziotteschi” in its cinematic qualities as any of the Harry Callahan and Paul Kersey Italian rips made in the backwash of Magnum Force and Death Wish. And that begat — with its touches of comedy-dark — 48 Hours, and then, even more action-oriented in its comedy dark with Lethal Weapon, and then, even more comedy-light with its action by way of Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker in Rush Hour.

Harrison’s buddy-cop tomfoolery starts with — as they all do — a villain lighting the fuse; in this case it’s Kristoff’s “Zero” (or “Zeno”) murdering a Cameroonian family for information on the Pope’s visit (at least the cat survived). Another one of Kristoff’s targets is Gordon Mitchell, who’s the head of the World Peace Organization. Now, I was hoping that Mitchell was one of the ass-kicking “three men on fire” — alongside Richard Harrison and Romano Kristoff. Nope. Our “Three Men on Fire” acting as our makeshift “Terror Force Commandos” is actually Richard Harrison (as our ersatz Mel Gibson-Martin Riggs), Alphonse Beni (as our ersatz Danny Glover-Roger Murtaugh), and Romano Kristoff (as our crazed Italian-cum-ersatz Gary Busey-Mr. Joshua). So, yeah, check your John Rambo, John Matrix, and James Braddock hopes at the baggage carousel to Douala, Cameroon: this ain’t no First Blood or Commando or Missing in Action, flimflamin’ VHS artwork, be damned.

At that point . . . well, that’s the plot.

I know, I know . . . another review where I tell you nothing about the actual movie. But there’s not a plot to tell you! Well, what I can tell you is, that instead of the jungle, we are running between Rome and Douala with all the city street car chases, fistfights, and bullets, and a kidnapped daughter strapped to a bomb, à la, well, Lethal Weapon, that you can handle.

Yeah, we know Lethal Weapon came out a year later — so save us the “fan mail” — but this sure as hell ain’t no Rambo romp, either. And while Three Men on Fire is poorly executed overall, it’s still entertaining as hell, as the decent enough shootouts and overseas locals gave me everything that I wanted and expected from an ’80s direct-to-video Z-actioner. Considering Richard Harrison was on a guerilla shoestring and passion-trying, it’s actually better than most films of the genre. I liked it. But I am Richard Harrison biased. Your own Z-action mileage may vary.

You know it! We found a freebie-watch of the Terror Force Commando version of the film on You Tube. And how about that explosive opening sequence!

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

Editor’s Note: This review is a perfect example of when our readers contact us in the positive to uplift our efforts to discuss film with a like-minded kindness. In this case: this review began with a reader inquiry (which we get into detail within the review) and said reader contributed materials, providing us with production information. This same reader-synergy resulted in our recent reviews of Robo Warriors and Future-Kill — not to mention the endless “pingbacks” or cites we receive from other film blogs.

Also, this is NOT a political dissertation intended to incense any reader. This is a film review on the craft of filmmaking, only. Thanks for your understanding.

“Not foreseeing where we were going to be 20 years on, at the time I saw the Soviets’ situation in Afghanistan as something akin to their Vietnam.”
— Director Kevin Reynolds, The Austin Chronicle

We’ve had this war flick (working as a deeper character study and war treatise) on our backburners since January, when one of our loyal readers, Nick Paticchio, discovered this lost Kevin Reynolds film for the first time. He reached out, urging B&S About Movies to review and, in his words: “drag it out of complete obscurity.”

Nick schooled us that the film, originally known as The Beast of War, was directed by ex-Kevin Costner associate Kevin Reynolds and it stars George Dzundza, Jason Patric and Steven Bauer. A box office flop, it was released on only two screens in the U.S. by Columbia Pictures. Nick also told us that Roger Avery, Quentin Tarantino’s old writing partner, has The Beast listed as “The Best Movie of 1988” on his personal Letterboxd page, as well as one of his “20 Desert Island Films” — with Apocalypse Now as the only other war film on the list.

You’ll recall that Kevin Reynolds made his bones with his feature film debut script for the “brat pack” apocalypse flick, Red Dawn (1984), a film that he envisioned as a modernized take on William Golding’s 1954 novel, Lord of the Flies; understandably, he wasn’t happy with the John Milius-directed end product.

Then, with his second script (and one of my “desert island” movies since discovering it as a UHF-TV re-run and taping it), which caught the eye of producer Steven Spielberg, Reynolds first worked with Kevin Costner and made his directing debut with the coming-of-age road comedy, Fandango (1985). Then the two Kevins collaborated on four more films: the Kostner-directed Dances with Wolves (1990; but as second unit director), Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991), Rapa-Nui (1994; with Costner as producer), and Waterworld (1995).

In between Fandango and Robin Hood sits this second Reynolds directing effort — a film originally conceived as Nanawatai (sanctuary), a stage production by Trenton, New Jersey-born playwright William Mastrosimone. The playwright made his debut mark in Hollywood by giving Farrah Fawcett the best role of her career with the rape thriller, Extremities (1986) (if you’ve seen Somebody Killed Her Husband (1978) and Sunburn (1979), you know what we mean).

Why Columbia Pictures released The Beast in only two theaters (for a $160,000 take against $8 million), then both mothballed it — even with rave reviews from the Lost Angeles Times, PBS-TV Sneak Previews, The Christian Science Monitor, and the Lost Angeles Daily News is anyone’s guess. The film, however — based on its many Euro IMDb reviews — received a wider, as most failed U.S. theatricals do, overseas theatrical release.

Some say it was the changing of the guard at Columbia Pictures: The film began production when David Puttnam (produced one of our favorites, Foxes) was head of the studio. By the time of release, Puttman was replaced by Dawn Steel (made her producing debut with Honey, I Blew Up the Kid). It’s opined that Steel didn’t think audiences would relate to Afghan characters played by Steven Bauer, who is of Cuban/German-Jewish descent, while Erick Avari is an Indian Parsi, Kabir Bedi is an Indian Sikh — and the rest are played by Israeli Jews (with the deserts of Israel doubling for Afghanistan). Others believe, even thought the film is effectively subtitled and the Russian language is minimal, large portions of the Afghan dialog is spoken in native Pashto.

Well, courtesy of a 2014 interview with Rutgers graduate playwright William Mastrosimone, on the digital pages of Matthew Gault’s War is Boring blog (a newly discovered and incredible blog; thanks, Nick), we know the reasons why The Beast failed: Sylvester Stallone.

Mastrosimone tells us that the new executives at Columbia weren’t interested in his take on Afghanistan. Sly had approached them with an idea for Rambo III (1988) around the same time — another film set in Afghanistan that the suits at Columbia thought had a better chance of making money.

The Beast was buried.

As we discussed during our “Box Office Failures Week” in the context of our reviews for Zyzzyx Road (2006) and the Christian Slater-starrer Playback (2012), The Beast did, in fact, suffer its unjustified fate as result of a contractual obligation. Troubled productions or films that lose a studio’s faith, to fulfill a clause in a SAG or IATSE agreement regarding release-distribution regulations (among other clauses only lawyers can dream up), Columbia held up their end of the contract by releasing the film in two theaters in New York City and Los Angeles. The movie ran a few weeks — and vanished.

That’s until filmmakers like Roger Avery and fans like B&S About Movies’ reader Nick Paticchio discovered the film. Nick, in fact, came to have a discussion about the film with Roger Avery.

Avery, along with Quentin Tarantino*, came to see the film in Westwood, California, on the opening weekend . . . and no one was there; they had the theater to themselves. In speaking with the owner, they learned it was in the theater for one day, for “awards qualifications.” As Nick and Roger continued their discussion, Roger astutely analogized the similarities between The Beast — its release suppressed for reasons of political agenda — to Mike Judge’s (brilliant, IMO) Idiocracy (2006): too intelligent for its own good.

“It’s my best work. I don’t care if it’s an Academy Award [winner]. I just want the movie to get its due some day.”
— Screenwriter William Mastrosimone, War is Boring

The Beast follows the exploits of a Soviet tank crew that becomes lost in the desert during the 1981 invasion of Afghanistan** (the invasion began December 24, 1979, ended on February 15, 1989, the U.S.S.R fell on December 26, 1991). Following the heartless assault of a Pashtun village and the resulting slaughter of mujahidin freedom fighters by a tank unit, that lone tank commanded by Daskai (an incredible, Oscar-level turn by George Dzundza; he campaigned hard for the role and went on a heavy diet and workout routine prior to filming, losing over 50 pounds) becomes lost in a mountain pass.

That wrong turn becomes the catalyst for the tribe’s new khan, Taj (a really incredible Steven Bauer of Scarface fame; later of TV’s Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul), to ban with Moustafa, his warring, desert scavenger cousin (a fine Chaim Jeraffi; sorry Sam, he was the Jiffy Dump Guy / Jiffy Park Guy in two Seinfeld episodes). Together, reluctantly, they gather up the survivors and, manned with a captured RPG anti-tank weapon, seek bloody revenge. The same stress and betrayals also plague the Soviet tank crew, jeopardizing their escape (the crew stars India-born Erick Avari of Stargate (1994) and The Mummy (1999) fame as the crew’s Afghani guide).

“The Beast was written by a great playwright by the name of Bill Mastrosimone. It was sent to me in a 50-page outline, I read it and thought, ‘Wow, this is cool,’ and then I found out it was a play. So I went to see the play . . . and I thought, this isn’t a play, this is a movie.”
— Director Kevin Reynolds, “The Constancy of Sorrow” by Marc Savlov of The Austin Chronicle

To say anymore would be plot spoiling: this is a film to be experienced and not by a review read. Everything works in this second, overly ambitious film by Kevin Reynolds — and foretells his directorial skills in pulling off the “Mad Max on the Water” effort of Waterworld, itself a film that languished in development hell since 1986 because no one knew how, or was confident enough, to make that liquid apoc’er, work. The Beast truly is a tour de force masterpiece in writing and directing, acting, set design and costuming. I loved Waterworld . . . but I love The Beast, even more. This is a repeat-viewing movie.

Nick — who inspired this review — is right: Criterion or Shout Factory! — or Arrow or Severin — need to reissue this on a DVD and Blu-ray proper, complete with commentary tracks from all concerned. For now, we did find one production insight from the film’s art director, Richard James, courtesy of his recent, July 2021 comment on the You Tube channel VOD upload of the film. Here’s his insights from July 2021:

“I was the art director on this movie. My focus was to build the interior of the [Israeli] T-55 [Tiran] Russian Tank. The goal was to make the interior so it could be filmed and to look like the real thing. The interior set had to function to meet requirements in the script, such as loading and firing the gun. The turret had to revolve 360 degrees. I was able to locate a shop manual of the tank. The tank interior set was suspended by metal framing, all sitting on a turn table; port holes allowed the camera to position itself perched also on turntable. The whole contraption had to be dismantled and shipped to Israel for the shooting location. The set was reassembled in a warehouse in Old Haifa, as [we] filmed in the desert. Even the studio suits didn’t know how [Kevin Reynolds] was able to accomplish his interior shots.”

In addition to Richard James, actor Jason Patric provides his insights on the production as part of the June 9, 2021, podcast of Ty & That Guy, hosted by producer Ty Franck and actor Wes Chatham of SyFy/Amazon’s The Expanse. The timestamp where you need to start to learn more about The Beast begins around the 39 minutes and 40 seconds mark and runs to the 51:00 minute mark. (Great find, Nick!)

You can stream The Beast on Tubi and the trailer on You Tube. For an ad-free experience, you can rent it from You Tube Movies. As a testament to the love of the film’s effectively shot action sequences: you can find several fan-cut clips on You Tube. (You’ve seen the film’s opening tank assault of the village in the 2001, better-distributed film, Megiddo: The Omega Code.)

* We did a week-long blow out on his films, which we recapped with our “Exploring: The 8 Films of Quentin Tarantino’s Rolling Thunder Pictures” featurette.

** To learn more about the politics behind the invasion, you can read an overview at The History Channel.com.

Again: Positive reader input also resulted in our recent reviews of Peter Carpenter’s Vixen! (1968) and Love Me Like I Do (1970), as well as the aforementioned Future-Kill (1985), and Robo Warriors (1996). God bless their VHS-pack rattin’ brains! Surf ’em up, if you can.

A very special thanks to Nick Paticchio for his collaborative efforts in our exposing this incredible film to a wider audience. We got you, Mr. Mastrosimone. We got you.

About the Authors: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.