When Franco Nero declined to return for an Enter the Ninja sequel, Sho Kosugi raised his hand and rode that shuriken-throwing train as far as it would take him: more or less to 1989, as the Bruce Lee of the two-night-rental era. However, Kosugi did more than just play ninjas in the Cannon Group’s Ninja trilogy; he also played ninjas outside of it, including Pray for Death, a stand-alone from unlikely helmer Gordon Hessler of KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park.
In Japan, Akira Saito (Kosugi) is a loving family man and hardworking salaryman, but his wife (Donna Kei Benz, Looker) longs to move to Los Angeles. So they do, with the intent to open a restaurant, but without the intent to be in an area so seedy, it could be a Chia Pet. Unbeknownst to the Saitos, an abandoned annex of their rundown place is where some crooks have hidden a valuable necklace. When those jewels disappear, the local mob boss known as — brace yourself for a name that screams “rejected Dick Tracy villain” — Limehouse Willy (Airport ’77’s James Booth, who also wrote the screenplay) wrongly assumes Akira and his family have something to do with it and will kill to get the necklace back.
Seeing as how Pray for Death is a revenge picture, take a good guess where things go from there. This is the kind of movie in which a low-speed fender bender causes a vehicle to explode as soon as bumpers touch. In which Akira always knows where to find his enemies. In which a woman is knocked unconscious before being fatally stabbed, with a quick round of sexual assault in between. In which the ultimate showdown takes place in a warehouse full of mannequins.
It’s in that last 20 minutes when Pray for Death comes, um, alive, as Kosugi drops the pacifism, applies the black eyeliner, puts on enough armor to resemble a Mortal Kombat character and ninjas up the place. Before that, thanks to the genial but cardboard acting of Kosugi, the movie is desperate for action. It could use a lot more of Akira leaping and flipping over a moving pickup truck, which Hessler shows in slow motion — as it should be, being the pic’s coup de grâce as far as visuals goes. Heck, I’d settle for just a little more of Akira’s kid’s tricked-out bicycle with jets of red smoke, a dashboard slingshot, hidden blow darts and more, all to make buffoons of mob goons and help Ninja Dad extract vengeance, sweet vengeance. —Rod Lott