Fresh from warring in Vietnam, Doug Russell (James Igleheart, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) dreams of pursuing real estate, pawing his wife again and finally meeting their toddler son, born as a result of previous pawing sessions. But first, the fresh vet is recruited to help steal a file cabinet full of gold bars for a Chinese crime lord. Talking him into it are his military buddies, Morelli and McGee (whose paired names sound like a fly-by-night law firm found advertising on bus stops), played by Carmen Argenziano (the original When a Stranger Calls) and Leon Isaac Kennedy (the Penitentiary series), respectively.
After the fortune-making transaction in the ocean is through, Morelli and McGee (or a failed TV cop pilot, perhaps?) increase their take by greedily turning on Russell. They stab him from the front and behind, and toss his bleeding body overboard to sleep with the fishies. Miraculously, Russell cheats death as he’s washed ashore on an island inhabited by two Japanese soldiers. Although one of them wishes a barrel of rice would’ve appeared on the beach instead of this new Afro-ed stranger, they teach Russell the way of the samurai with bamboo swords so that he can become a one-man Death Force. (To put it in terms of the film’s alternate titles, he’s so Fighting Mad that he’s sure to exclaim Vengeance Is Mine.)
Back home, McGee is putting the moves on Russell’s wife (Cover Girls‘ Jayne Kennedy, then Kennedy’s real-life spouse), a singer in seedy bars. Many scenes exist in which Russell’s son (played by Iglehart’s actual child, James Monroe Iglehart) cries and/or looks terrified when McGee comes around, because the tot was too young to understand the scenes of domestic violence going on around him were just pretend.
When Russell is able to avenge his near-murder, Death Force hits the revenge-picture sweet spot. No fewer than three torsos spurt streams of blood when our hero’s sword — now made of steel — separates them from their heads. Written by Saturday the 14th mastermind Howard R. Cohen and directed by the Philippines’ ever-prolific Cirio H. Santiago, who dabbled in blaxploitation before (most notably 1974’s TNT Jackson), the movie delivers, but freeze-frames on an abrupt final shot so cruel and bleak, it’s like a well-planted kick to moviegoers’ nuts. You’ll get over it. —Rod Lott