Hey, there’s nothing like an “SOV Week” to inspire us to fill out the holes in B&S About Movies’ SOV database while we also polish off the unholy triumvirate of Christopher Lewis — the Julius Ceasar of the SOV domains — with Blood Cult, The Ripper, and the sequel to Blood Cult: Revenge. Ah, there’s a catch, afoot: more money means improved production values, so we’ve made the transition from video to 16mm film. But we didn’t know that back then . . . so while it’s not “technically” an SOV, it still is in our video store pumpin’ hearts.
I begged to buy this poster off the video store wall. The mint-deficient halitosis owner wouldn’t budge. Even after taking it down for a new one-sheet, he still wouldn’t sell. He told me, “I’d rather throw it out.” And probably did. Dick.
So, did you read our review of Blood Cult? Then you’re up-to-speed with the dog-worshiping cult shenanigans.
In the grand tradition of notable-successful actors hitting hard times and slumming in an SOV romp to pay the rent (and for a producer to get a marketable name on the Big Box), such as Michael J. Pollard in Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland (1989), adult-film star Amber Lynn in Things (1989), and Janus Blythe of The Hills Have Eyes in Spine (1986), Revenge stars John Wayne’s son, Patrick — the star of the huge (in our hearts!!!!) mid-‘70s drive-in hits The People That Time Forget and Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger.
Exhibiting still cheesy, but vastly improved technical skills in front of and behind the camera — in a script penned by actor Joe Vance (the dead Joel Hogan from the first film) — star Wayne returns home to investigate the death of his brother from the first film. And he runs afoul of our dog-god cult with a body-part fetish overseen by cadaverous horror icon John Carradine, who, even with the dreck he’s been in (see Cirio H. Santiago’s Vampire Hookers), deserves better than ending his career with an SOV appearance (ugh, I know, 16 mm, but you get the point).
While we still have the slasher element from Blood Cult, things are a bit more supernatural-cum-mystery — no Halloween homages this time, as with the first film — with our cult members using ESP to dispatch their victims with a little cerebral cortex rupturing. It’s not exactly Michael Ironside Scanners explosive, but it’s messy . . . and SOVs (okay, frack, 16mm) have to be Karo food coloring-messy.
A couple of months after the end of the Blood Cult timeline, Patrick Wayne’s Micheal Hogan, the brother of dog-cult victim Joel Hogan, returns to town and comes to help Gracie Moore (a returning Bennie Lee McGowan) now terrorized by the dog cult that murdered her husband and wants her farmland to conduct a sacrifice. Also back are David Stice as our Deputy and Peter Hart as Dr. White. In a QAnon twist: John Carradine’s Senator is the head of the Lord Caninus sect (funny, Ted Cruz strikes me more as the dog cult demigod-type). And more of the same body part collecting to resurrect ol’ Canny, ensues . . . and the “ensuing” includes a head-hatching, leg-removal by bear trap, a Jacuzzi slice n’ dice-cum-decap, and the ESP kicks in for a fleshy BBQ.
You can pick up Revenge, paired with Blood Cult and The Ripper, on a nifty catch-all The Ripper Blood Pack DVD from Amazon. You can also watch a VHS-era rip on You Tube. And speaking of “revenge” . . . bang the head that doesn’t bang with a little Slayer, Exodus, and Venom, for, as you know, metal and horror films are a bloody Reese cup from hell.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook.He also writes for B&S About Movies.
I had several video store memberships back in the day — both with the chains (Blockbuster and Hollywood Video) an array of mom n’ pops — not counting the ones where I wasn’t a member that I’d road trip for a cut-out bin divin’ weekend (if I couldn’t find it as a rental, I’d buy the cutout version) — and my local comic bookstore.
Yes. At the comic book store.
As my neighborhood video store knocked a hole in their wall and the owner dumped all of his warehoused vinyl into the bay next door to not only sell, but rent records like video tapes (of which I recorded many to cassettes), my local comic book store also punched a hole in their wall and opened a dinky video store. Another comic shop — which was bit more of a drive — cleared out a corner and started shelving rental videos, as well. (For a fee, that comic shop would high-speed a copy; used vinyl record stores, before and during the early days of the compact disc, when everything wasn’t yet on disc, copied albums: first to cassettes, and then, eventually CDs.)
The U.S. reissue from the fine folks at Bleeding Skull. Hi, Hog. Dig the shirt.
What my cherish comic honey holes shelved is many of the films we’ve reviewed during our “Regional Horror Week” back in March, our “Hong Kong Week” back in May, and last month’s “SOV Week” and “Video Nasties Week” tribute . . . then there’s our “Japan Week” coming the beginning of next year (cut and paste those “weeks” into our search box to populate those reviews). For when your local comic book store decides to compete in the home video market, you know that they’re going deeper than the mom ‘n pop outlets where your dad is renting The Godfather, mom (mine’s an action whore) wants First Blood — and you’re renting a Wizard “Big Box” “video nasty” to the tune of Headless Eyes. (And let’s not forget our beloved pre-Internet catalog grey-market retailer VSOM – Video Search of Miami and our trusty Starlight Video bootleg catalogs helping us discover the deep corners of the VHS-doms. I miss that: I’d rather the ol’ catalogs and mail-order than the web. I know: shut up, nostalgic old bastard.)
Such a “deep” film is Cards of Death: the feature film debut — and lone film — by actor Will MacMillan. Born in Stuebenville, Ohio, he came to work at the Lovelace Marionette Theatre in Pittsburgh (the hometown of the online publication you’re reading right now). Oh, you know MacMillan. He starred in George Romero’s The Crazies and co-starred alongside Clint Eastwood in The Enforcer. Then there’s a dozen-plus network TV series, as well as Oliver Stone’s Salvador. Then more TV series and a couple of TV movies.
Did my common regional roots to MacMillan, along with the Romero connection, mean anything to me at the time when I rented the grey-version of Cards of Death from my ol’ comic hole? Nope. No more than the Hollywood and rock music lineage of Christopher Lewis inspired me to rent Blood Cult. All I know is that I saw a weird-and-wonderful, never before seen oddity imported and grey’d from Japan and I wanted it. And, as it turns out: it wasn’t an Asian cinema set-piece, but an American (SOV) flick masquerading as Asian cinema. And I think MacMillan inspired all of that later, Asian-VHS insanity from Japan and Hong Kong. I have a feeling, if you read reviews and interviews of the fans and makers of those films: MacMillan is name-dropped, often.
Yep. That’s the one. Originally issued on Japan Sony’s “Exciting Video” label. Only the “U.S.” cover was a fuzzy, laser-printed copy tucked into a clamshell sleeve and dubbed on a TDK-VHS tape.
Anyway, MacMillan wanted to move behind the camera. And with the home video revolution and the new accessibility of commercial video cameras — with the shot-on-video and direct-to-video successes of the likes of the influential SOV game changers Boardinghouse and Blood Cult, MacMillan realized he had a cost-effective way to prove his skills as a writer and director. And, from what I’ve read: to tell Hollywood to “f-off,” as he had grown disenchanted with the business. (I wonder why: he worked consistently; perhaps he lost out on auditions for a couple mainstream roles?)
And, with that, the crime-horror Cards of Death was born.
However, unlike the SOV’ers Boardinghouse and Blood Cult, Cards of Death couldn’t obtain (widespread) U.S. distribution — so no one saw it. Why? With its gratuitous nudity, lesbianism, sex scenes smeared in blood, and on-screen kills — more so than Spine, an SOV also released in 1986 — MacMillan’s vision was a perfect programmer for porn purveyors 4-Play Video, Inc. and producer Xeon, Ltd.’s joint, “commercial” SS – Sterling Silver imprint; the label was created for that porn-slasher hybrid’s marketing into the brick-and-mortar marketplace. Cards of Death would have made for a great, second release for the label — instead of having Sterling Silver go under after the release of Spine. Sure, MacMillan had years of mainstream Hollywood experience behind him. Surely, he had the industry connections. But a scuzzy porn-leaning horror film snipping inspiration from ’50s and ’60s French New Wave existentialism? It’s easy to see why MacMillan was left to his own devices to market and distribute his admittedly unconventional film. (Why do you think Alejandro Jodorowsky (Santa Sangre; 1989) never got his version of Dune made?)
So, in a business deal with details lost to the analogs of time, MacMillan got the film into the Asian home video market via Sony’s “Exciting Video” VHS imprint. That’s when Cards of Death — like Cheap Trick’s Japan-only released Live at Budokan breakthrough album before it — found its way back the greylands of the good ol’ U.S.A. to be nestled onto my local comic book store’s underground-video nasties shelf. Those shelves also held imported copies of Toshiharu Ikeda’s Evil Dead Trap and the grey-market rips of Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale (which took ten years to officially appear in the U.S.) and the Guinea Pig and Tomiefranchises.
If only MacMillan turned the directorial reins over to Takashi Miike of Dead or Alive fame; for Cards of Death is under the same Sapporo Dome as Gozu(2003), Miike’s bizarre, low-budget direct-to-video horror with its mix of mobsters and ghosts and breast milk and cow-headed men. (Yeah, a Miike remake of Cards of Death is a film I’d pay to stream.) The violence of Cards of Death, while it has its moments, isn’t Evil Dead Trap-brutal — and is certainly not as expertly-crafted as a Miike joint — but it does foretell torture porn before there was an Eli Roth (his game-inspired Hostel, in particular). And that gore comes courtesy of another SFX artist (see our review of Night Feeder) who moved onto bigger and better things: Bryan Moore ended up doing the effects for one of Charles Band’s better Empire budgeters, Dolls (1987), by Stuart Gordon (Re-Animator), and Underworld: Evolution. But let’s not forget Moore’s makeups on the oft-run USA Network’s Chopper Chicks in Zombietown and the much HBO-played C.H.U.D. II: Bud the Chud.
The you-want-to-shower-after vibe of Cards of Death comes in the form of graphic sex scenes: one features a nude, punk-rock makeup lesbian f**king Hog next to a corpse she just offed and drained into their wine goblets — and smear the bloody over their bodies. And if that’s not enough: a chair-cuffed cop (MacMillan as Captain Twain on the case) has his fingers, ears, and nose sliced off — then mailed to the police station. One gamer gets an axe to the chest and a crown of barbed wire around the face and throat — all in-camera. And there’s a (admittedly clumsy) human crushing by a pneumatic walled-device, aka “The Crush Room.” There’s an impaling on a wrought iron fence (because of cost, we don’t see the fall, just the aftermath). Then there’s rape. And strangulation. And sadism. And a chainsaw. And cheese graders used on dairy products and epidermal products. And bullets. And the coke flows. And there’s no mystery — and that seems to be MacMillan’s “narrative choice” — as we know our killers, and since everyone is killing, there’s no Giallo-done-to-death Voorhees POVs typical of the slasher genre for us to “guess” what’s what. MacMillan is about the existential weirdness, with what can be described as a slasher-porn inversion of Ingmar Bergman’s medieval masterpiece The Seventh Seal (1957). Is Hog a representation of death, while the felted-table of tarot card death is MacMillan’s version of Bergman’s errant knight and death perched over a chess board?
But what we do know: The “cards of death” is an underground card game (in a black-plastic draped and burning-neon, new wave room tucked inside a dilapidated warehouse) with its cult-following players fronted by the mysterious Hog — complete with a crudely-drawn spider on his forehead. The game’s stakes are one’s life. To up the weirdness — and which is why Sony Japan snapped it up for Pacific Rim distribution — our male players wear rubber masks (of clowns, skulls; interpret the subtext to your liking) while the females slaughter in full Nazi dominatrix regalia (your subtext guess is as good as ours) as they play a Poker-inspired game, only with Tarot cards. The rules are simple: If you’re left holding the death card in your hand, you die — with a violent Grand Guignol death set-in-wait for you. If you hold a winning hand, you win the pot, but you’ll lose the pot — and you’re own life — if you fail to kill the loser within 24 hours. The game is held every Wednesday. On Thursday, the loser’s body is dumped in the city. And the cops are stumped. And the financial windfall is so substantial, a priest with gambling debts is willing to play the game (he’s the guy that ended up fence-impaled).
So, why does the game exists? What’s the “end game” of the game? Why, after all of the seriousness of the film, do we have black comedy end credits — complete with goofy music, rolling? What’s our “message” take away? Well, what I do know: Cards of Death is grainy. It’s sadistic. It’s repugnant. It should not exist, but it does. Cards of Death is an SOV dream of a simpler, analog membership card time as we searched for the off-beat. And I love it.
But that’s not to say Cards of Death is not awkward and clumsy. While the scenes in the warehouse game room are entertaining and has its directing, thespian, and scripting weirdness-moments, the game’s over when the story returns to the jittery, flat camera work of awkward framing with the (awful acting) cops and their investigation. As with the (even more) awkward police investigation plot-jinxing of fellow SOV’er Spine ditching the bondage-murder antics of Lawrence Ashton — the grime that everyone came for — Cards of Death draaaags when the fuzz show up. We want the new wave weirdness and murderous lesbians. In comparison, the influential Blood Cult, with its admitted share of flaws, is clearly the better-shot film. And Cards of Death is, in turn, better shot than Spine. Got that?
MacMillan appeared in two more SOV-made films: Dark Romances Vol. 1 (1990) and Schemes (1994), so you can search for those to kill the cat. Sadly, we lost Mac in December 2015. You can read his obituary at Hollywood Reporter, People, and Varietymagazine (notice how Cards of Death isn’t mentioned; and one obit is more detailed than the other).
And would you believe that some of the actors from Cards of Death not only moved onto other works, but are still in the business?
Ron Kologie, who stars as MacMillan’s son, Billy, appears in two, recent Lifetime holiday movies: Random Acts of Christmas and A Cheerful Christmas. (You know us and cable Christmas movies around here; denied: Fred Olen Ray or David DeCoteau didn’t make Kologie’s good cheer’ers. Oh, well.) Greg Lawrence, here as Ross, one of our intrepid cops, continued to work in indie features and shorts, including the works of Dennis Devine (Get the Girl). Joel Hoffman, as wrought-iron’d Father Morris, turned up in Slaughterhouse, Slumber Party Massacre II, and the much-loved Stan Winston-directed Pumpkinhead (Hoffman’s since retired; he’s a high school English and Spanish teacher).
You can purchase appropriate retro-VHS reissues — with the U.S. artwork — via Bleeding Skull and Mondo’s joint efforts. Oh, yes! The You Tube gods have delivered a streaming copy. If there is one SOV’er you decide watching this week, make it Cards of Death: even with its flaws, it’s a Dan Curtis, tape-shot ’70s TV movie on acid with a speedball chaser, a dominatrix with an axe, and a coil of razor wire.
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: In celebration of its 35th anniversary, the 1986 BMX racing film Rad will return to movie theaters nationwide on Thursday, October 14 at 7:00 p.m. courtesy of Fathom Events and Utopia. Featuring a new 35th-anniversary restoration, fans will see — for the first time — A Rad Documentary – Inside the BMX Movie That Changed Everything, which has never-before-seen interviews with the cast and crew and behind-the-scenes footage.
There was also a Rad stunt show and premier tonight at Fantastic Fest. While we couldn’t be there in person, we couldn’t resist sharing this review again, which originally ran on December 9, 2020. We’ll see you in the theater on October 14 and on Helltrack!
If there was one movie that was hard to rent at my neighborhood mom and pop video store, this would be it.*
Leonard Maltin gave this movie his dreaded BOMB review, comparing it to 1950’s car race and 1970’s roller disco movie films. Yeah, Leonard. Wondering why everyone liked it so much?
Shot in Alberta, Canada — look for a young Robin Bougie from Cinema Sewer — this movie may have failed in theaters. but like I said above, it was a top rental film for what seems like forever.
Cru Jones has two choices: take the SAT in order to attend college or race Helltrack, which could mean $100,000, a new Chevrolet Corvette and fame. His mom, Talia Shire, whines so much that you wish that Stanley Kubrick would arrive to cause PTSD to take her out of this film, but no, she just cries that he’s throwing away his future. He is, near-fifty-year-old me can tell you, but have you seen Helltrack?
The thing I never understood about this movie was how could Mongoose have allowed themselves to be portrayed in such a negative light? They were such a big BMX company and in nearly every scene, their owner Duke Best is out to get Cru and to push his own rider Bart Taylor.
Before she went to jail for that college scam, Lori Loughlin played the tough tomboy that the hero fell in love with. Here, she’s Christian Hollings and she BMX bike dances with Cru, setting hearts aflutter. For more Laughlin roles like this, see Secret Admirer and Back to the Beach.
The evil Reynolds twins who try and destroy Cru on Helltrack grew up to be Chad and Carey Hayes, the writers of the remake of House of Wax, as well as The Conjuring movies.
Man, this movie still leaves me with so many questions. How could the town raise $50,000 so quick for Cru? How does he have the money to sign up Bart when he gets kicked off the Mongoose team? Why did my grandparents buy me a Schwinn that weighed as much as a Harley when all I wanted was a BMX bike?
This movie wasn’t on DVD or blu ray for years until Vinegar Syndrome did a limited release. It’s streaming now, so you can finally legally watch it.
Also, look for pro wrestler Hard Boiled Haggerty, who yells to our hero, “Go balls out!” before the Helltrack** race. That was the film’s original title.
*Other movies that fit this bill are Thashin’, The Dirt Bike Kid and The Toxic Avenger.
**None of the stunt racers could complete a lap of Helltrack, with major worries about the giant hill that starts the race. The entire scene took two weeks to film.
Only David DeCoteau could make a rip-off of Alien starring Linnea Quigley and Ashlyn Gere* boring. I mean, that’s some serious talent right there.
Actually, this movie feels more like a rip-off of Rats: The Night of Terror, which is another amazing thing to actually steal from Bruno Mattei. That’s like psychologically manipulating Charles Manson.
This was so brazen that the tagline was “Move over, Aliens, here come the Creepozoids. Even if you kill them, they’re still deadly.”
Quigley has mentioned that there were supposed to be more sex scenes with her and the monster, which means that this would have also stolen from Galaxy of Terror.
There’s a giant baby, a mutant rat and it’s the best David DeCoteau I’ve seen and it still sucks.
*Ironically, the actresses switched roles because Ms. Gere, who went on to become one of the biggest stars in adult films ever, was uncomfortable with nudity.
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.
The original Italian Poliziotteschi version.
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.
The First Blood-Commando re-imaging for the international marketplace.
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.”
The U.S. home video Rambo redress — but it’s more Lethal Weapon.
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.
Richard Harrison and Alphonse Beni’s second team-up — down in Hong Kong with Godfrey “Oh, No!” Ho.
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.
This shot on video anthology film was chopped up and played in between shows on the Sci-Fi Network, when that was a thing before SyFy. So if one of these stories sounds familiar to you, that could be why.
Vincent Price plays the mailman and host of these stories, as a man opens a package and puts in the video tape that has all of these horrific little tales on them. From a fisherman getting his just desserts to bad directions, werecats chasing a larger man through the woods, alien crash landings, a bridge haunted by hobgoblins, magic crystals, frightening dreams and the horror of living in the city, this movie is all over the place yet not every frightening or well-made.
Writer/producer/director David Steensland only made this one and done film, but at least he had the sense to hire Price for a single day
Intervision put this out on a double DVD with Dark Harvest. It’s out of print, however.
Editor’s Note: This review previous ran on June 20, 2021, as part of our “Ron Marchini Week.” We’ve brought it back for our first “Philippines War Week” of films. Yes. We said, “first” week. As usual, we go overboard, so we’ll have a second week of films come December 5 to the 10th.
Man, this movie has some alternate titles. In France, they call it U.S. Warrior. In Spain, Traición a un Soldado or Betrayal of a Warrior. Greece? O Hamenos Polemistis (The Lost Warrior). In the UK, they call this Forgotten Warrior. But in West Germany, this gets my favorite title: Commander Rainbow.
Steve Parrish (Ron Marchini) was escaping a POW camp when Thompson, one of his fellow soldiers, doesn’t want to be slowed down by a wounded man. He shoots the soldier, then shoots Steve so that he couldn’t tell anyone else. Luckily, some villagers saved our hero and he chose to stay behind, choosing to marry Malia (Marilyn Bautista, Driving Force, Bloodfist), one of the women in the village where he has settled. His wife gives birth to a son and the warrior soul in Steve is content to be, well, forgotten, just like the title says, as he just likes teaching everyone martial arts.
Our hero plans to live out his days in the jungle, but Thompson’s orders send him back to ‘Nam with the goal of rescuing POWs. Instead, he works with the Viet Cong to try and kill Steve, pausing to assault and murder the wife of our protagonist. Somehow, Steve gas a sword and darned if he isn’t going to kill everyone in the Philippines — sorry, Vietnam — to get the payback that his warrior spirit demands.
This movie kills so many bad guys that it needs two directors, Nick Cacas (Deadly Commando) and Charlie Ordoñez (Jungle Wolf). Parrish would return in that movie, as well as Return Fire: Jungle Wolf III, which of course has nothing to do with any of these movies.
Editor’s Note: This review previous ran on June 21, 2021, as part of our “Ron Marchini Week.” We’ve brought it back for our first “Philippines War Week” of films. Yes. We said, “first” week. As usual, we go overboard, so we’ll have a second week of films come December 5 to the 10th.
For all the magical reasons that we love the old days of the video store, there was one drawback. Often, the movie that you wanted to rent just might be out of stock. So if you wanted to rent Rambo: First Blood Part II or Commando, there’s a chance that every copy of that movie may be out. Yes, in the days of streaming, this may seem crazy to you, but you couldn’t always get what you wanted.
But if you try sometimes, you just may find you get Ron Marchini.
A former U.S. Army drill sergeant, a survivor of a drive-by shooting, a martial arts tournament fighter said to be the best in the country in 1969 and the toughest opponent Chuck Norris ever faced — or so Black Belt Magazine would have us believe — Marchini appeared in a Murder in the Orient and New Gladiators before getting noticed in 1976’s Death Machines, a film in which he played White Death Machine.
It would be nearly a decade before Ron became a VHS industry all to himself, working with directors like Charlie Ordoñez and Alan Roberts to hit the rental audience with movies like Forgotten Warrior, Omega Cop and Return Fire. They aren’t good movies, but they’re great for what they are. And it’s always pretty amazing that in the midst of the jungle, Marchini chooses to always wear yellow t-shirts.
This film finds our hero — Steve Parrish is his name —in Central American but we all know it’s the Philippines. Some rebels have kidnapped American Ambassador Porter Worthington and only our man Ron — or Steve — can come in and set things right. This was probably shot at the same time as Forgotten Warrior and even goes all Boogeyman 2 on us by recycling plenty of footage and using it as flashbacks.
The best part of a military 80s movie is when the hero gears up, covering himself in weapons before killing everything and everyone. This movie has that happen twice and it has the theme song play so many times that you’ll swear it’s the only audio in the entire movie. Also, the bad guy wears a pirate hat and our hero has a samurai sword and man, this movie is so ridiculous I kind of want to watch it again. Oh, and is there a part two? You bet! And Jungle Wolf II is also known as Return Fire — and III, depending on the foreign repack.
Yeah, a direct to VHS Filipino war movie was not where I was expecting Muslim rebels vs. Christian military to be the theme, but hey, here we are.
After a battle between some rebels and the Philippines military, Hadji is captured and sent to prison. Somehow, a Colonel still allows him to see his son Basaron before he spends the rest of his life in the big house. He tells his son to always obey the law, trust God and not end up here in jail. He grows up with the dream of being a lawyer and isn’t sure how to deal with his father being released from prison, as the man is considered a hero by the rebellious people while Basaron has lived for the law.
Basaron has also lost his girlfriend Narsheva after Bashir assaults her and then marries her, because their religion demands that a man marries any woman he deflowers. Basaron responds to all of this by beating up his rival. And then a civil war breaks out with the rebels wanting our hero on their side and the colonel who allowed him to see his father asks him to join the air force, which he ends up doing.
Can Basaron end a conflict that has raged for generations? Will he survive? And how does his father figure in?
Director Francis Posadas made 79 movies between 1979 and 2017, including Wild Force, G.I. Baby and Magnum Muslim .357. I have to check out more of his stuff after this, because this is one weird action film. Anthony Alonzo, who plays Basaron, was Sgt. W2 in Wily Milan’s transcendent W is War.
When you move to a town called Lucifer Falls and are warned immediately about Mr. Boogedy, well, chances are that things are going to get pretty scary, particularly if you’re a child. It turns out that there’s not just one ghost on the loose in this one, but three.
That’s because three hundred years ago, William Hanover fell in love with a beautiful widow named Marion who didn’t return his affection. He made a deal with the devil to gain a magical cloak and used it to kidnap the widow’s son Jonathan, but when he cast his first spell, he destroyed his home, his crush and her child, stranded all three of them in our plane of existence.
Now, Mr. Boogedy — William Hanover — and Jonathan are trapped inside the home of the newly arrived Davis family, along with young Jonathan, while his mother is unable to enter the home and ever see her son again.
Yeah, like I’ve said more than once, live action Disney gets pretty dark.
There’s a pretty good cast in this with Richard Masur (Rhoda) as the dad, Mimi Kennedy as the mom and Benji Gregory (ALF), David Faustino and Kristy Swanson as their children. Plus, it’s always great to see John Astin in anything.
Writer Michael Janover’s original version of this movie was called Cheap Thrills and was an Airplane!-style parody of horror films. It was meant to star Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong, but when Disney picked the project, the humor got toned down. Janover got the name Boogedy from Robert Hayes — speaking of Airplane! — yelling that as he walks the ledge in Cat’s Eye.
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