KICKBOXER 4: THE AGGRESSOR (LIVE HOME VIDEO - 1994)

Being fundamentally superior does not necessarily make something the best in its realm. Previously, “Kickboxer 3” made several remarkable upgrades in terms of film score and acting. It’s better than it has any right to be. While I’ll totally cop to the fact that it is probably the best of the series, it’s certainly not my favorite entry. Best in terms of quality does not necessarily always translate into entertainment value. Comparatively, “Kickboxer 4: The Aggressor” is a total piece of shit. It looks cheap. It sounds cheap. It feels absolutely cheap. But it is obnoxious, loud, and fast in the best possible senses of these terms. The previous entry’s most redeeming quality was its momentary excursion into “Deathwish” style urban revenge. However, the weirdness is snugly book ended by business as usual. Albert Pyun's fourth "Kickboxer" film is a high flatline on the EKG when it comes to weird! There is no apprehensive moment at the tip of the diving board. This movie starts IN the deep end. At the beginning, we are violently THRUSTED into the cervix of the bizarre. There is no origin rooted in the ordinary world. There isn't even a brief gasp of normalcy. It’s like opening your eyes first thing in the morning to a freeze frame of a fist laying into your face. In fact, it feels more like a beautiful dream than a movie.

Director Albert Pyun holds nobody’s hand. He defies you to just figure it out, which is what makes a lot of his films so enjoyable. Most of Pyun’s movies feel more like a fight to make sense rather than simple entertainment. The perfect metaphor for his films is like playing that annoying fucking Milton Bradley game, Perfection, where you only have a limited amount of time to fit the pieces into their corresponding slots before it all blows up in your face. This is not because Pyun is a bad filmmaker. In fact, Pyun is a total genius. Pyun seems to be a guy who is rarely blessed with an easy task. Anybody who knows the history of his productions knows that he often works with soul crushing budgets and meddling producers who should have been more accurately credited as saboteurs. If someone gave James Cameron Auschwitz and told him to turn it into Disneyland, he’d probably walk out of that internment camp utterly defeated. Put Pyun in that same situation and you probably won’t get Disneyland, but he’ll at least give you Action Park, which is still a miracle in its own right. The point I am trying to make is that yes, Albert Pyun is a much better director than James Cameron or even Michael Bay. Those guys make shitty movies in spite of the fact that they have 300 million dollar budgets. Albert Pyun could make an entertaining movies in spite of the fact that he doesn’t even have 3 million. Do the fucking math.

Sasha Mitchell is back one last time as David Sloan, and once again he’s playing a completely different character, which is logical given his character’s circumstances. Some undisclosed amount of time down the road, we join David in a federal penitentiary, where he’s been rotting for several years after being framed for a crime he didn’t commit BY MEXICAN DRUG LORD TONG PO!

Holy shit, yes. I feel this.

The film starts right off with a badass flashback as David writes his wife a letter briefing her on the history of Tong Po. Po crippled his brother Eric Sloan. Kurt Sloan trained in Muay Thai to avenge his brother. Kurt Sloan kicked Po’s ass. Disgraced, Po went and shot Eric and Kurt to death, and then later came after David for a match so that he could avenge his loss to Kurt. David totally beat his ass though, and Po ran away with his pony tail between his legs to MEXICO, where he apparently became the most badass drug dealer ever! And I guess David started working undercover for the DEA and Po framed him for a crime that’s never really fully disclosed. Shortly after, they show Tong Po abducting and raping David’s wife.

Before going any further I must take some time out to tell you all that Tong Po—er, excuse me, MEXICAN DRUG DEALER TONG PO, is the best thing about this entire movie. Here, Po is played by Kamel Krifa, a long time friend of Jean Claude Van Damme’s. Interestingly, Krifa’s background closely resembles that of Michel Qissi, the man who’d previously played Tong Po in both “Kickboxer” 1 and 2. Both Krifa and Qissi trained with Van Damme early on and went on to routinely appear in his films. Both men are also phenomenal in their portrayal of the same character. While Qissi played the previous incarnations of the mysterious Tong Po to animalistic perfection, here Pyun has expanded the character to resemble a hyper sadistic Bond villain. He has gone from 100% black to over-saturated color. Within the confines of his Calexico compound, Po lives out his delusion of godhood to utter completion. When introduced to his public, his announced credits include “philanthropist, “psychotherapist,” and “award winning record producer.” One hilarious moment features Po playing the loot terribly, which he concludes by boasting "so you see, I have musical talent as well." Krifa is absolutely brilliant here, bringing charm and humor to a character that verges on farce, but still playing him as realistically as possible. While Po is over the top and at times hilarious, he is intended to be a satirical figure. Unfortunately, the film is otherwise populated with laughably bad acting, so Krifa's show stealing performance tends to go unappreciated. In fact, it's unfairly lumped in with all the other shit going on.

After several years of wrongful incarceration, the government approaches David Sloan behind bars with a proposal that really doesn’t make much sense. Tong Po is holding a lethal million dollar tournament at his compound in Mexico, and they want Sloan to infiltrate it. Not sure exactly what he’s supposed to ascertain or even do once he's there, but whatever. Sloan accepts the challenge. Hilariously, when the agent stresses that it’s very important that Sloan not be recognized, David responds by saying, “it’s been years since he’s seen me. I doubt he’ll recognize me.” Okay, hold on. We’re talking about the dude who killed your two brothers, framed you for a crime you did not commit, kidnapped your wife, and whose loss to you in “Kickboxer 2” brought him so much shame that he ran away to Mexico. And you think after a couple of years he probably just forgot what you look like? If they'd had Mitchell dye his hair, grow a badass mustache, or given him a diamond studded eye patch -- if they'd somehow given him a character to slip into, it would have made this whole story a lot easier to swallow.

Sloan is released and immediately enters into a qualifier for the tournament, which he wins. His victory scores him an invite to Tong Po’s pleasure fuck palace, and makes way for the border. On his way, he enters a roadside diner and gets into a fight while defending the annoying Michele Krasnoo. It is here that an action sequence so stupid it is amazing takes place: Sloan kicks a dude out of the front window in bar room brawl tradition. The dude gets up, and is HIT by a van that’s pulling up, which knocks him through ANOTHER window and back into the bar. Awesome.

The rest of the plot is mostly ripped off from “Enter The Dragon,” with Sloan showing up at this grand tournament with a bunch of other fighters, and then sneaking around the compound after dark in search of his blown out wife. Po's reaction to the blood sport is absolutely hilarious, as he sits on his thrown, jangling his legs like an excited kid on Christmas.

Eventually, Sloan is captured much to Po’s delight. The film ends with the fighters revolting and taking on Po’s personal army, while Sloan has his own show down with his old arch nemesis.

Throughout the film, Po is depicted as a megalomaniac and rapist with an insatiable appetite for underage girls. However, for some strange reason, Pyun decided to give the character a tender side, which almost leans toward redemption. Before the finale, we learn that Sloan was part of a raid on Tong Po's compound that resulted in the death of his wife, whom the tournament is named after. I can't decide if this is stupid or awesome, but it certainly gives Po both purpose and a reason to hate Sloan even more. Not that he needed more reasons, but it's a more noble reason I guess. As I've said before, it sure is a shame we never got a movie that squarely focused on Tong Po, as it certainly almost seems like Pyun laid some ground work for one here. It's not too late, Albert!

The one thing that sets this particular film apart from the others is that there’s tons of nudity and an extremely gratuitous soft core sex scene. The various fight scenes throughout this film might also be amongst the best out of the entire series. Of importance to me is also the fact that Pyun-favorite Thom Mathews (“Friday The 13th 6,” “Return of the Living Dead”) stars as Tong Po’s disheveled, satin-shirt wearing henchman replete with horrible neck tattoo. Mathews plays the part of total sleaze to perfection here, delivering perhaps one of the more memorable quotes during this film. As Po begins to force himself upon Sloan’s weird looking wife, Mathews mutters with a smirk, “go Po,” as he exits the room.

Overall, this movie is totally over the top, and the entertainment value far exceeds its budgetary constraints. This would have been an incredibly high note to go out on, but unfortunately someone had to fuck it up. Few people even know that there’s a fifty entry, but those who’ve seen it regret the experience. A year after this film was released, “Redemption: Kickboxer 5” was released. The film starred Mark Dacascos ("Iron Chef"), and we learn that David Sloan was killed off by some greedy corporation trying to monopolize champion kickboxers. Fucking stupid. The movie was directed by a woman. Go figure.

I couldn't find a trailer, so instead I will leave you with a brief selection of Tong Po whipping some goofy white boy's ass. GO PO!

KICKBOXER 3: THE ART OF WAR (LIVE HOME VIDEO - 1991)

The third installment of the “Kickboxer” series, subtitled “The Art of War,” is an odd duck in the best possible way. A lot of fans consider this to be the weakest entry in the franchise. However, I happen to think it may be the best, as director Rick King ("Prayer of the Roller Boys") actually gets his own things right for the first, and sadly, last time in the series. In what has become tradition, this story takes place in a completely different locale than previously seen. We’ve gone from Thailand to Los Angeles, and here we’re taken away to Rio de Janeiro. The exotic location does much to inflate the film’s sense of bigness. In fact, this may be the largest feeling entry of the entire series. Perhaps the most important component in making this film feel bigger than the others, though, would be the contribution of composer Harry Manfredini. By this point, the prolific Manfredini had racked up a distinguished resume, sprucing up countless horror flicks with his distinctive cues. Most notably, Manfredini is the guy responsible for bringing most of the dread and tension to the "Friday the 13th" films. No matter how much money you spend on something, you can easily junk it up with a cheap synth score, and that was certainly the case in the previous two “Kickboxer” entries. Some say it’s impossible to class up a film of this nature, but Manfredini’s music absolutely gives this film a bigger feel.

Sasha Mitchell and Dennis Chan return as David Sloan and Xian, and it seems like someone threw their chemistry in a reactor, because it’s freakishly strong here. So natural are these two here that this feels like it could have been their fifth outing together. A lot of that might have something to do with the fact that Mitchell isn’t struggling inside the Van Damme mold in this movie. Rather, he seems far more comfortable in his own skin. Not only does he bring his own personality to the David Sloan role, but Mitchell’s physical performance is miles better than anything demonstrated the in “Kickboxer 2.” Mitchell does not possess the balletic grace of Van Damme, and it was very apparent that Pyun tried hard to work around that. Here, King embraces Mitchell’s physical merits and plays him up as a powerhouse that really beats the hell out of people with spinning knees and elbows. On all levels, Mitchell has really grown beyond where he was just a year before. About the only bad thing about Mitchell I can say here is that his wardrobe is fucking awful. Red Cross Colour overalls with no shirt? Yeah, that’s tough alright.

While this movie is far from perfect, this is what a good sequel should be. By comparison, “Kickboxer 2” is just a formality; it establishes some characters and reintroduces some old ones, and builds some relationships. This movie takes those characters and introduces them to new situations and environments instead of simply rehashing scenarios. Simply re-enacting familiar situations and story lines is the greatest folly any sequel can make. Absent is Tong Po for once, and for the better in this instance, as it made way for new challenges, which expand the characters.

Not only is David Sloan once again a competitive fighter for some inexplicable reason (he retired in the last film), but he’s recognized as thee international kickboxing champion, which has brought him to Rio, where a brash new challenger awaits. After landing, David and Xian do a little sight seeing, during which we’re treated to some Travel channel bullshit about Capoeira. Why they bother demonstrating this unique style of Martial Arts, I have no idea, because they never encounter it again. While dining, some street tough kid played by Juanito from “Blood In, Blood Out” steals Xian’s camera, which leads to a chase. David kicks the shit out of Juanito’s Fagan and retrieves the camera. Xian demonstrates some sympathy for the street kid and his hot virgin sister, Isabelle, by buying them lunch. I’m totally sure Xian wants to bone her because he checks her out non stop. By the way, in case you were not aware, there are a shit ton of street kids in Brazil, most of whom live by their wits from day to day and are involved in some pretty dubious activities, such as prostitution and violent robbery. If you ever go to Brazil and run into a few of them, the last thing you should do is sit down to a meal with them, as they will most likely stab you and leave you with the check… unless you’re David Sloan of course.

The kids tag along with David and Xian to a Kickboxing exhibition. Despite the fact that it’s a charity event for street kids, David’s ragamuffin guests are pretty much treated like scum. The exhibition gets going, and we’re introduced to Martine (played by legit Kickboxing champ and familiar B-movie face Ian Jacklin), David’s opponent for the big championship fight, which is to take place the following week. Suffice to say things get out of hand and there’s a brief face off between David and Martine. Afterward, David is approached by Martine’s manager, Lane, who’s been eye fucking Isabelle all night. Lane apologizes for Martine’s brash behavior and invites him to a party. He even asks him to bring the kids.

There’s a party, blah, blah, blah. David kicks some fool’s ass. All this leads up to Lane’s men kidnapping Isabelle later on so he can add her to his roster of fine Brazilian jail bait, which he pimps out to high end clientele at top dollar. From here, the movie takes a surreal landslide as David and Xian hunt down Isabelle’s captors. Now, this is the portion of the movie that a lot of people seem to take issue with because our heroes basically just start blowing bad guys away. I personally think it’s what makes this movie amazing simply because it’s so weird. First of all, none of the actual gun play in this movie detracts from the kickboxing elements. It’s not like you signed up for a martial arts flick and all you got was Xian blowing dude’s heads off with a 357. That’s just an added bonus. Up to this point, David has still been kicking the living shit out of people. And as weird as it is, it’s completely logical and it plays into the film’s subtitle, which a lot of idiots don’t seem to understand. Basically, our heroes adapt to the task by picking up guns off the black market to fight organized criminals, which is realistic.

So, David and Xian go “Deathwish” and start blowing the fuck out of the kiddie peddling heavies in excessive Woo-like fashion. Better still, our protagonists dispense a tide of hot lead like it’s something they do all the time. In one particularly brutal scene, David snaps some dude's neck like he's scraping crud off of some dirty dishes! Since when is this guy a cold blooded killer that goes around soullessly snuffing his adversaries out? This bizarre sequence is mainly satisfying because it is so completely out of left field, however, it’s not well done. King commits an unforgivable faux pas by showing a guy getting chopped up by a machine gun in slow motion while the sounds of shots firing are in real time. Fuck that.

We go from insane to just plane stupid when David and Xian finally catch up to Lane and fall into a trap. Earlier Lane tried to talk David into taking a dive for Martine so he could clean up on some bets. You’d think since he has something that David wants he would be in a prime position to negotiate right? Well, instead of doing the logical thing, like torturing him, or blackmailing him, Lane decides to just do stuff that will make David REALLY TIRED before the fight, like going jogging with rocks in a backpack, digging holes, swimming really far, and water skiing without skis. No shit. AND THEN HE LETS HIM GO BACK TO THE HOTEL TO REST AFTERWARD!

However, Xian’s primitive Eastern methods rejuvenate David in time for the fight. The challenger, Martine, does get his ass handed to him here, though at one point he gathers his wits enough to mock David by doing the running man, which is easily the best part of the movie for me.

Eventually, they get Isabelle back. Lane, who bet his upscale whore farm on Martine goes belly up. The film concludes when David and Xian free the rest of the teenage harem, and Juanito winds up stabbing Lane to death, which isn’t as awesome as he thought it would be. Then, David, the guy who was snapping necks and emptying clips into fools, lectures “killing someone never makes you feel good.” What the fuck happened between parts 2 and 3? Did this motherfucker go to Iraq or something?

Like I’ve said, this movie does have its problems, but this is overall a very good sequel and the production value is SEEMINGLY several rungs above what we see in the other films, including the first. Mitchell reprises the David Sloan role one last time in the totally bat shit insane “Kickboxer 4: The Aggressor.” Sadly, this was Dennis Chan’s last turn as Xian.

KICKBOXER 2: THE ROAD BACK (HBO VIDEO - 1991)

This whole thing is mottled by an unnecessarily convoluted script, but within this mess the compressed lungs of a good sequel sputter and wheeze. Albert Pyun’s “Kickboxer 2: The Road Back” gets a few things right despite the odds against it. For starters, Jean-Claude Van Damme apparently had no interest in returning to one of his most popular roles. For fans of the original film the absence of JCVD is an immediate red flag, but nevertheless they make creative way around that gap by killing off Kurt Sloan to make way for a third Sloan brother. While no mention was ever made of David Sloan during the first film, this character's invention was a welcome alternative to simply passing off some other actor as Kurt. Van Damme’s surprising successor in this film comes in the form of Sasha Mitchell, best known at that point for his role as the doltish Cody Lambert on ABC’s “Step By Step.” Physically Mitchell could pass for one of Van Damme's relatives, which helps quite a bit. Beyond that, Mitchell does a surprisingly strong job of emulating some of Van Damme’s mannerisms in spite of the difference in their accents. While some will still consider Mitchell a marked trade down, one cannot help but respect the makers’ attempts to somehow keep this as closely relevant to the original movie as possible without insulting its audience. Sure, JCVD is gone, but fans of the original film will be happy to see Dennis Chan back in the role of Xian Chow. Better yet, Michel Qissi returns as one of the action cinema’s most memorable villains, Tong Po.

A cast of faces that could serve as a “who’s who” primer for bad 90s action flicks also keep this a comfortably familiar affair. Matthias Hues, whom most will fondly remember as the towering alien bootlegger from the classic “I Come In Peace,” shows up early on. Vincent Klyn, who played Fender in “Cyborg,” also turns up in a minor part as a thug staking out David Sloan. Prolific Japanese veteran actor Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa is another welcome face despite being woefully miscast as a Thai politician. I’m pretty sure all of these guys went onto work on several more productions together. Remarkable veteran actor, John Diehl (“Angel,” “Joysticks,” “Stripes”) is sort of underused in the bullshit role of Sloan’s accountant. Legit kickboxing champion Vince Murdocco plays Sloan’s protégé Brian Wagner. Murdocco, who got his start in the sequel to the soft core Flesh Gordon comedy, went on to appear in a handful of other action B-flicks, including the phenomenal “Private Wars.” For some reason, Brian Austin Green pops up in the opening as a street tough punk in a King Diamond shirt who wants to put Sloan’s martial arts skills to the test.

The real shocker here, though, is Peter Boyle in the strangely likable role of fight promoter Justin Maciah. Here, Boyle once again proves that he is an exceptional, high caliber talent who can extract pure gold from whatever material he is given to work with, no matter how lame it might have been. A lot of great actors fall on hard times and turn up in some less than respectable movies, all in the name of the mighty paycheck, and they’ll simply go through the motions without much zeal. Boyle on the other hand is one of those rare guys who will nail a role, no matter how small scale the project is. Sadly, no one else in this film is on his level, so he routinely runs away with whatever scene he’s in and makes his co-stars look bush league by comparison.

As mentioned before, the story is a little more complex than it needs to be. They quickly establish David Sloan as a bleeding heart who’s running a gym that’s hemorrhaging money. The charitable Sloan spends most of his time teaching the neighborhood delinquents martial arts (good idea!), which isn’t paying the bills. Also under his tutelage is promising young kickboxer, Brian Wagner, whose aspirations of going pro seem to clash with Sloan’s ideals. Enter Justin Maciah, eager to cash in on the Sloan name by signing him to a lucrative contract under his upstart kickboxing promotion. But Sloan is not interested. To be honest, Sloan actually comes off like a pretentious asshole throughout the beginning of the movie. Not only is Boyle likable in the role of Maciah, but the character isn’t exactly written like a swaggering blowhard Dong King type. He seems pretty reasonable. So, Sloan seems like he’s overreacting when he tells Maciah to fuck off.

However, the writing is on the wall. The bank is about to foreclose on the gym, and Sloan has no money, which eventually drives him to compete against Maciah’s champion, Neil Vargas (Mattias Hues). Sloan wipes the matt with the guy and cuts a post match interview where he rips the promotion and all of its competition before retiring. Now this is where shit gets kind of stupid and tangled: Vargas wants satisfaction after being disgraced, so he breaks into Sloan’s gym, shoots him in the leg, sets the place on fire, and the little Mexican kid who asks for Chevy Chase’s watch in “The Three Amigos” dies in the process. Sloan winds up in the hospital, despondent over the events. For some inexplicable reason, Kurt’s trainer from Thailand, Xian, is brought to the US to train David. It doesn’t really make much sense, but whatever, Dennis Chan is back.

Meanwhile, the sinister Sanga, Maciah’s business partner in the fight promotion, is hatching a plot. Sanga arranges for Maciah to arrange to get David Sloan’s student Brian Wagner to fight for their promotion. Eventually, Sanga reveals that he is an associate of Tong Po’s, the villain from the first film. Apparently, Kurt Sloan’s victory over Po brought great shame to the fighter. They tried to arrange a rematch so that Po could regain his honor, but for some stupid reason Po tracked down Sloan and shot him to death, therefore making the rematch an impossibility. It looked as if Tong Po would never regain his honor until Sanga discovered David Sloan. Sanga hopes to goad Sloan into a rematch with Tong Po to avenge his loss and restore prestige to the former champion. There’s a lot of stupid shit going on here.

Maciah quickly starts grooming Wagner for a championship bout. During this whole period we’re treated to a crappy montage which parallels Sloan’s recovery with Wagner’s training and in-ring career.

Wagner catches up with Sloan at some point and invites him to his upcoming championship match. He even gives him an extra ticket and asks him to bring mama Wagner along so she can share in the jubilation of his victory. Right off the bat, you know something bad is going to happen. So, Sloan, Xian, and Wagner’s mom show up for the big fight. Sanga has Maciah’s champion replaced last minute with Tong Po, who proceeds to kick the living shit out of Wagner. Wagner winds up dying in the ring and Sanga’s men issue a challenge to Sloan to face Tong Po later that night. Really, David S Goyer? Was all of this bullshit really necessary? Did they really need to lure Brian Wagner into the ring so that Tong Po could kill him so that David Sloan would have a reason to fight the guy that SHOT HIS BROTHERS TO DEATH? Give me a fucking break.

Anyway, Sloan and Po break out the glue and broken glass hours later in the empty arena and face off in a rather unspectacular duel. Sloan gets his ass pounded into raw hamburger until words of inspiration from Xian compel a Hulk Hogan comeback out of nowhere, which leads to Sloan knocking Po out of the ring. Whatever.

While Sasha certainly bares resemblance to JCVD, and he demonstrates an interesting interpretation of his predecessor’s mannerisms, he is certainly lacking in martial arts skill, which is a tremendous detriment to the film. Story-wise, his training sequences make little sense. Xian’s main focus seems to be physical recuperation rather than martial arts training. Kurt’s training in the first film is somewhat shallow, but at least logical. Xian essentially tortures Kurt into becoming like steel. Here, David has virtually no preparation against Tong Po. There is no character arch. Stranger still, David seems to have NO IDEA who this man who killed his brothers is. Like I said, considering the history of the characters in this film, there are a lot of unnecessary twists and turns along the way. The plot with Wagner simply wastes time that should have been dedicated to Tong Po. And what the fuck is up with Vargas? Couldn’t Tong Po have burnt down the gym and killed the kid? In fact, Sloan never avenges the loss of his gym or the death of the boy against Vargas, so this is just sloppy story telling.

This film has several blessings however, the first of which is Boyle’s presence. The second is the phenomenal Qissi’s return as the larger-than-life Tong Po, who is perhaps the film’s most interesting character. It’s honestly a shame we never got a movie that focused on Tong Po alone. The villain is often more important than the protagonist he faces. In fact, the greatness of a hero is often defined by their adversary. Qissi’s Po is so powerful that it sort of eclipses the absence of JCVD’s Kurt Sloan for me.

One last commendable thing about this film is something that it does NOT have, which was a romantic subplot. How often does a subplot with some dumb bitch impede the ass kicking? You won’t find that here. Yes, dudes like tits, but you don’t always need to use romance as a means to justify nudity. Can’t bros just be at a strip club and in the background, BAM, titties? I know I’m fine with that.

The production value seems surprisingly high, too. The arena scenes in particular feel big. Unfortunately, the horribly cheap synthesizer score completely craps all over that. In fact, no score is always preferable to a cheap one. Shitty, cheap synth is cinematic AIDS. It can virtually tamper with an audience’s perceptions and make something that cost a lot of money to make seem low budget.

Reviewing this recently from the HBO VIDEO copy, I noticed that there seems to be some stuff that’s trimmed out of this version, in particular Kurt Sloan’s death scene. In fact, I have vivid recollections of seeing this in the theater, and I remember them alluding to the fact that Eric Sloan had been killed along with Kurt, and I also seem to remember Mylee – Kurt’s love interest and Xian’s niece – being shot by Tong Po as well. Not sure what happened to this footage or if it’s available anywhere else.

In case you’re wondering, Van Damme actually turned this film down to work on “Double Impact.” I often wonder what might have been had JCVD reprised either the Kurt Sloan or Frank Dux roles at some point. Historically, every great action film star had a franchise under their belt. Bronson had Kersey, Norris had Braddock and McCoy, Eastwood had Callahan, and Stallone had both Rocky and Rambo. Van Damme is perhaps the only real action heavyweight to break that pattern of attaching himself to a franchise, and that may have perhaps diminished his value in the long term. Sloan and Dux were potentially Van Damme’s Rambo and Rocky, but he left them behind for one reason or other. I have often wondered if his eventual decline might have been postponed or averted entirely had he embraced the characters that made him famous.

Chan and Mitchell returned to reprise the Xian and Sloan characters a year later in the surprisingly strong “Kickboxer 3: The Art of War” – perhaps the second strongest film in the Kickboxer series. A few years after that, Mitchell returned as Sloan in the bizarre, comic bookish “Kickboxer 4: The Aggressor,” where he once again faces Tong Po, this time fantastically played by another JCVD alumni, Kamel Krifa.

GHOUL SCHOOL (CINEMA HOME VIDEO - 1990)

By Chris Engberg

Some movies are so inexplicably inept in their message and delivery that they fall into the swamp of a category: “For Some Reason.” Written, Directed, and Produced by Timothy O'Rawe, “Ghoul School” dives into that swamp and quickly thickens the water into a vat a festering sewage. Listen, I am fully aware this was intentionally made to be campy and fun and funny—but it wasn't and I'm about to rip this off its spool.

As soon as you put the tape in, music starts playing—even over the FBI warning! This leads into a very bizarre and long computer animated title sequence, which is blindingly cheap even by 1990 standards. The top billed credit goes to Joe Franklin, followed by minutes of no ones, and capped off by a “special guest appearance” by Jackie “The Joke Man” Martling. The extent of his Howard Stern alumni’s “special appearance” will be noted later.

The title sequence and song – which sounds like it was from a gothy Super Nintendo game – actually made me think this could be cool. Seconds into the movie I knew we were in trouble when the first two shots were loooong, lingering shots of the outside of a high school building. It immediately conjured one of my favorite Mystery Science Theater 3000 lines: “They're establishing the hell out of that building!” Down in the school’s boiler room, we’re introduced to a big old fat janitor in mid-romance with demon liquor, though he stumbles around more like Chris Farley on heroin. Which I guess is redundant. Anyway, he stuffs some money into a lock box on the wall and then morphine-shuffles over to his cot, which is an odd single achievement in realism within this movie. All high school janitors live in the boiler room. This is just a fact -- from Freddy Krueger to the black janitor in “Hiding Out.”

Two dropout junkie fruitcakes with a vocabulary that consists 50% of the words “fuck” and “shit” have caught wind of this money stash and decide to rob the school at the end of the day, which quickly leads one of the robber clods to shoot the gas huffing janitor while he's tied up because they can't find the money. As a gag, the shooter presses a button on the wall and says something along the lines of “hey, what's this do?” causing the other robber to scream “NOOOOOO!!!” The thieves are then very, very slowly misted with some bullshit chemical the school keeps on hand for some reason and leaves accessible by a single unmarked button.

This mystery mist contaminates the school's water supply, so anyone who comes in contact with it becomes, from what Max tells me, a shitty knockoff of one of Lamberto Bava’s Demons, with blue skin, green blood, and long, sharp teeth. The swim team is the “main” source of misfiring humor, the running quip being that THERE'S TOO MUCH CHLORINE IN THE WATER! Oh my stars, you got us, joke-not-funny-enough-even-for-Prairie-Home-Companion.

The heroes of the movie are two horror nut AV nerds whom we first meet at home, where they are harassed over breakfast by an unexplained step-brother/roommate/bully character. They never really touch on what the deal is with this guy, but he’s written so poorly that you feel okay with the fact that they never touch on him again. Our protagonists both wear Jackie “The Joke Man” Martling t-shirts along with 18 other people in the movie. One of these fools distinguishes himself by affecting his mouth to look like Bill Murray's character in “Caddyshack” without all that, you know, ability to be funny. These two dinguses sit in class reading both Fangoria and Slaughter House, so you'd think that when zombies show up later, they'd shoot them in the fucking head, but, for some reason, they don't. After school they stay late to jerk each other off in the AV room watching extreme horror movies.

Cut to Joe Franklin sitting in his infamous office packed with stacks of sheet music and ephemera. Here, we’re treated to a brief telephone conversation with the principal of Ghoul School, who thanks Mr. Franklin for speaking to the kids at an assembly. There is no one better to talk to high schoolers than Joe fucking Franklin. Sadly, the best thing about this movie is Franklin’s seemingly annoyed state at having to actually shoot these scenes. He seems especially perturbed when “special guest star” Jackie “The Joke Man” Martling finally graces the screen. Martling attempts to pitch himself to be on Joe's show, so we then sit through about three minutes of Jackie's one-liners – jump cuts and all – as Joe Franklin attempts to mask his beast-like rage with politeness.

That’s the extent of Jackie’s onscreen appearance, though this flick is otherwise packed with shit tons Martling’s t-shirts, posters, a comedy tape, and stickers (one of which is seen in an air duct – actually kinda funny). My theory is he agreed to appear in the movie for free in exchange for godless amounts of product placement. Joe comes back much later in the movie, much to my surprise, on another call to the school's principal clearly ad libbing his way out of another engagement at the school, only to punctuate it with a theory that there might be something in the water as he's feeling “very peculiar” and insists the water supply be tested. Joe knows his shit, I guess. This also gave me the SLIGHT hope that we might get to see Joe Franklin in zombie makeup. Of course that doesn't happen.

The box’s tagline that reads “Sex! Babes! Rock n Roll!” and yet this film is a never-ending desert without any oasis of nudity. Not even a mirage. Shitty film making 101 is that women without integrity or intelligence are usually much cheaper to come by and they will get naked for a steak dinner. I don’t understand how they came at us with this crap without any sacrificial breasts. We were not appeased. However, we do get some bullshit metal band, the Blood Sucking Ghouls, rehearsing in the school auditorium for the prom – a gig that has the singer's octogenarian girlfriend up in arms in between public makeout sessions and tepid arguments about managing the band. As they repeatedly play their one song, the editor could not be bothered to attempt to sync up any footage to any convincing playing, partly because none of them can play. The drummer looked like a stoner who was asked to perform brain surgery—just throwing his arms around. The AV nerds and the mooks in the band eventually join forces in a fight for survival. Other unmentionables include a pointless subplot of the basketball team only having five dudes on the entire team and the dickhead coach forcing them to practice all night. I guess he should because none of those twerps could make a single basket. They all end up being slaughtered. I think this was the scene where a true maverick of a zombie decides to chainsaw a guy in the crotch, instead of the tearing limb from limb seen everywhere else. The movie ends with the lead singer of The Blood Sucking Ghouls' elderly girlfriend, safely on the roof as the rest of these miscreants run out into the city, which is now all zooed out. Everyone dies and no one cares, except for the tough grandma on the roof shrieking “NOOOOOOOO”, because I sure as hell did not.

Check out the trailer. Amazingly, this thing makes this thing look a million times better than it actually is.

Prolific “auteur” in the genre of this bullshit, David DeCoteau, has an executive producer credit on this slugfest, yet "Ghoul School" makes his standards look Leone-esque by comparison. This may dwell in the scraggily barrel that DeCoteau built, but O’Rawe’s caustic terribleness corrodes the bottom out of it. DeCoteau is also listed as “uncredited” on IMDB, despite being violently credited on the tape itself. Let's just chalk that up to this movie's TMOQ.

Completely unrelated, Nintendo produced a video game entitled "Ghoul School" in 1992, which has become a minor cult hit amongst gamers. In spite of its glithces, it's also way better than the movie.

THUNDER SQUAD (MOGUL - 1985)

So far, all my experiences have led me to believe that a movie with foil box art is an omen of utter shittiness. Whenever I run across a box that glimmers, I am flooded with horrible childhood memories of trolling comic shops during the 90s when every company was producing eighty different cover variants, featuring scads of dumb fucking gimmickry, from foil, to gate fold, to polybag condoms with trading cards, and even holograms in order to up the potential collectability of their title. In the process, the big two did a marvelous job of glutting the market with a high volume of sparkly crap nobody wanted, and pretty much destroyed it in the process. Since then, I have been completely wary of anything that happens to glitter. What some may see as a cute feature, I see as a cheap distraction crafted with the intention of making me think that, “hey, this thing is gleaming like Ra’s anus. It MUST be special!” Don’t believe the hype my friends. If it’s bedazzled, then it has gotta be bullshit, and “Thunder Squad” is another round of ammo in my argument’s chamber.

At first look, this is a potentially promising affair. Antonio Sabato is present, and Umberto Lenzi at the helm should at the very least yield some pretty raw violence. Even the box art itself is pretty great, featuring a misfit cavalry, tarrying forth to stomp some Bolivian ass no doubt. The cover is actually pretty great… but it has that goddamn foil finish, which defies all probable goodness. It is a figurative head on a pike, but being the morbidly curious guy that I am, I live and die by a single question: “just how bad can it really be?” Well, situations like this have lead to a new definition to describe the very bowels of awfulness: It’s FOIL COVER-BAD.

Following a blood thirsty dictator’s hostile takeover of an undisclosed South American country, a clusterfuck of governments conclude that the previous despotic ruler was less of an asshole and decide to enact a plot that will put him back in charge. But when the opposition gets a whiff of the plan, they kidnap the original dictator’s son, thus preventing him from seeking rule once again. The rest of the story is a total flatline that follows a pack of crack mercenaries, aided by a supposedly sexy demolitions expert, on a mission to free the boy. Shortly after rescuing the kid, his father is assassinated and our mercenaries end up stranded in the South American wilds with the kid and a pissed off army hot on their trail. One of the good guys pulls a heel turn and decides he’s not going to die just for some kid, even though he had previously agreed to go into the jungles to fight guerillas for the same kid only a few days ago. Whatever, pal. The kid eventually leads them to an allied border, but not without a few casualties, and that’s about it. Overall, the movie is a total snooze, the characters are barely there, and the violence itself is unspectacular for a Lenzi effort. The film’s ending feels like the conclusion of an episode of the A-team. For an episodic television show that’s going to be back next week, it would have been fine, but for a film it feels totally abrupt.

The film’s fatal soft spot truly is the lack of character development. We’re presented with types we’re supposed to accept, but we never learn much about their background, their bond, or who they are as people, which makes it virtually impossible to give a shit about anything they do. A huge component in making violence impactful is the characters involved in the explosions. Without any idea of who these people are, I just can’t be bothered to care. No one here is even remotely likable. The demolition chick is a bitch, the mercenaries are one step away from becoming creepy rapists, and THESE are the guys with the integrity. Tack on an annoying kid and I start to run real low on give-a-shits.

Though I contemplated turning the film off at several points, there was one scene early on that compelled me to keep watching. Following news of the boy’s kidnapping, the government gathers three of the world’s best psychics. They’re brought into a room, hooked up to an electronic scanning device, and each gives a reading which pieces together the exact coordinates of the boy’s location. This was a rather convoluted plot device to introduce, so I was curious as to whether or not the psychics would return at some point in the story. They never do, which left me completely baffled and disappointed at the end of the film as to why they even bothered to add a supernatural element to this story. Recommended only for those hell bent on knowing the work of Lenzi intimately. “Thunder Squad” is also interesting for its striking similarities to not only the last “Rambo” film, but “The Expendables” as well. There are some parallels between these films that left me wondering if this was one of Stallone’s influences. Otherwise, it’s a waste of time.

VOYAGE OF THE ROCK ALIENS (PRISM - 1984)

Holy Christ, I don’t even know where to begin. Before I attempt to dig into this meatball, I must state that the absolute worst part about this movie is Pia Zadora and that carp-mouthed bellowing she passes off for singing. I do not understand how this foul dwarf achieved fame, and the fact that she was a sex symbol at one point is revolting to me. The only thing slightly more disgusting than Zadora's Penthouse spread would be the prospect of a Yeardley Smith sex tape.

In my search to discover how she achieved her fame, I trolled the extensive pop culture knowledge of good friend Gerard Cosloy of sports blog Can't Stop The Bleeding. This is what I got in response to my question, "just who the fuck does Pia Zadora think she is?":

"Pia Zadora was a z-list actress with a zillionaire, aging husband. In one of her first movie roles (Butterfly), she won a Golden Globe for "best newcomer" award despite a shitty appearance in a film no one saw. Her husband [had] wined and dined the voters on his yacht. For years the award was cited as evidence that the Golden Globes had no credibility. Over time, she kind of became a running joke -- frequent punchline on Carson, etc. She used the notoriety to her advantage, taking on commercials that played on her ditzy/no-talent image. Later in life she was cast in one or two John Waters movies in small parts. She was sort of the Paris Hilton/Kardashian of her era in that she was famous for being famous for being famous for sucking. However, because she took the abuse with considerable grace (keep in mind this was before blogs and Twitter) she actually fashioned something close to a favorable public reputation despite no one actually remembering any of her work."

Ah, Mr. Cosloy drops the mortar with the bricks here. I can finally start to put this thing together now. Unfortunately a lot of sources that detail Zadora's career neglect to mention factoids such as her husband's income bracket. Anyway, onto "Voyage of the Rock Aliens."

This hernia-inducing box of “what the fuck” opens with a Flying-V shaped space craft cruising through outerspace while blasting "Openhearted" by Real Life. I see this, and I’m kind of thinking, “Fuck yeah! This is alright! I can get down with this!” At the helm of the ship, a robot pilot scans nearby planets for some sign of life. He gets a hit and looks through the scope to see this:

It’s a post apocalypse-themed music video for the Jermaine Jackson song “When The Rain Begins to Fall” featuring Pia Zadora! I'm freaking out, about to have an aneurysm of joy, thinking, "holy shit, Jermaine is the leader of an apocalypse motorcycle gang, and he's going to have to fight aliens -- this is going to be the most amazing thing I have ever seen!" But then the video ends and so do my hopes and dreams of this being a truly amazing experience. Sadly, this is not a set up for the whole movie, even though it SHOULD HAVE BEEN! It was right under their noses. Unfortunately, the video was actually shot after this movie was filmed and later tacked for the release, so I can't really point fingers at anyone for missing the boat.

The Robot scans another planet, which is far less promising than the previous. Pia’s here too for some reason, but instead of Jermaine she’s backed by some horrible Stray Cats rip-off by the name of the Pack. Throughout the duration of the movie, all I can think is that this would have been a much better movie had it featured the Pack from Germany.

So, the ship’s occupants, a bunch of Devo wannabe’s by the name of Rhema, decide that this must be the place and quickly beam down in a phone booth, ala Bill and Ted. Once there, they wind up clashing with the strict regime of the Pack and their domineering manager Frankie, played by Craig Sheffer. Pia, who also happens to be Frankie’s girlfriend, soon catches the eye of the Rhema’s leader, and sparks fly. There’s not much in terms of plot, but the dancing and singing comes in relentless, two-ton slabs throughout the course of this bottom of the barrel sci-fi spoof, and it all ends without much of a conclusion.

Bottom line, this is a wretched effort. I can't call it bad because its intentions to be a campy tribute to 1950s drive-in culture are very apparent. They're trying to make a "good-bad" movie. However, they fail at the good. In fact, there is virtually no good about this movie. Bad can redeem itself -- it can even contain goodness. The humor is not good. The actors seem uncomfortable. The production value looks below sitcom scale. The bulk of the music, which isn't even rock, is merciless in its abundance and illogically littered throughout the film. What little story there is gets continually sacked by terrible, out-of-nowhere dance numbers. This wasn't really so much a viewing for me as it was a suffering. I felt a wide range of emotions while enduring this thing, from violent impatience to sadness. However, there was one scene that saved me from the brink of meltdown. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Craig Sheffer.

This is so bad it's fucking amazing! This is a mighty kraken in a virtual sea of "whatever!" The funniest thing about this is that the song itself is fucking awful. It's so bad that at first I thought it must really be Craig Sheffer singing it, but then I learned that HE ISN’T! Sheffer is actually lip syncing to the song which is performed by Michael Bradley of Paul Revere & The Raiders, which actually might make it twenty times more amazing than it was.

The only things really worth visiting from this film are the “Nature of the Beast” number as well as the “When The Rain Begins to Fall” video, which was basically inserted into the film after it was shot. The song actually does appear later in movie, with Sheffer lip syncing to Jermaine’s part while he and Zadora piss all over the fourth wall.

Originally the film was not written as a musical. In fact, it was intended to be an ultimate homage to b-movie culture. The premise of a town crawling with supernatural activity is a warm and fuzzy one, and was more likely intended to come off like the fantastic cult comic “Creepsville.” But the common tragedy of producers with bright ideas and little creativity struck hard here, and it was their hand that sewed a colostomy bag filled with the pungent influence of 1978’s “Grease” to the back of this mess. Ultimately, this thing is a top to bottom atrocity. Sadly, this was also Ruth Gordon’s last film – a sour note to go out on. Michael Berryman also provides a glimmer of decency as an escaped lunatic. Still there’s not much that will redeem this experience.

Here’s the theatrical trailer, though this movie didn’t really get a theatrical run.

SUMMER OF FEAR (THORN EMI VIDEO - 1978)

I am always suspicious of horror fans who roll their eyes at horror releases with PG-13 ratings. There are certain instances where I can indentify with their frustrations. In particular, I’m annoyed when an older R-rated film is made safe for the trogs of today. Some things should not be made more accessible. Personally, most of my favorite horror films tend to be a little low key. I prefer atmosphere over violence or gore almost every time. I think horror can be effective without reaching for the gross out lever every five minutes. This early Wes Craven effort, originally titled “Stranger In Our House” is perfect proof of that. While made for television back in 1978, it still managed to capture the audience’s imaginations, and those who saw the film back then still fondly recall it. There’s no visceral imagery. In fact, there’s only one on screen death, and that’s courtesy of an exploding car. But the story is great, the performances are strong, and Craven effectively conjures a bank of atmosphere that keeps your curious piqued.

Linda Blair stars as Rachel Bryant, an equestrian teen whose family opens their home to cousin Julia following the untimely death of her parents. Over time, Rachel is the brunt of bad luck that only seems to benefit Julia. Rachel’s horse, who isn’t particularly fond the new arrival, goers berserk and is sent away. Later, Rachel develops some nasty hives on the eve of a dance, which leads to Rachel’s boyfriend Mike falling in love with Julia. Eventually Rachel discovers a handful of ritualistic ingredients that lead her to believe her cousin is practicing black magic. Even the man whom Julia enlists to help convince her parents of this outlandish theory falls tragically ill, and Rachel knows it’s no coincidence. Just as Julia is on the verge of possessing the family, Julia exposes her, saving the day.

There’s virtually nothing about this film that I do not like. The only weak link this film has is the build up to the twist pertaining to Julia’s true identity. Other than that, Blair turns in a delightfully bratty performance. The absolutely stunning Lee Purcell deals a knockout performance as the hex-savvy belle Julia. The film also provides Fran Drescher’s TV debut as Rachel’s best friend.

This is yet another fine TV horror piece in the tradition of “Gargoyles,” “Bad Ronald,” and “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark” that takes the less-is-more approach. While it won’t blow you away, “Summer of Fear” is definitely simple, utterly likable, and actually very well made. Though some may dismiss this as too tame, it is easily one of Craven’s most effective in terms of feel, and certainly an overall better quality movie than some of his later work.

The movie was so well-received by the American TV audience that it was later repackaged for a theatrical run overseas as "Summer of Fear." The script itself was based on the 1976 "Summer of Fear" novel by Lois Duncan, who could be called the godmother of the explosively popular young adult novel trend of today. Much of her work has had a profound influence on modern horror, and several of her novels have been turned into popular films, including the unfortunate Kevin Williamson abortion "I Know What You Did Last Summer."