Mission: Killfast seems like Ted V. Mikels’ answer to the Andy Sidaris series of spies, lies and exposed thighs (and then some), yet the result is so bad, Sidaris looks like a Cahiers du Cinéma-lauded auteur in comparison. That’s bound to happen when your sections of principal photography are separated by nine years.
The plot, as it is, revolves around missing detonators, which pass through the hands of the characters as if water. Should said detonators fall into the mitts of someone who also possesses “the components,” kablooey: nuclear bomb. Called in to prevent this global catastrophe from occurring is martial-arts master Tiger Yang (Game of Death II), playing himself and fresh off “a world tour.” His first order of business once in town? Appearing in the local parade as its “grand marshall” [sic]; certainly there are better ways to keep a low profile when on a life-or-death mission, but how could Mikels justify so many minutes of parade footage otherwise?
The director/writer/producer uses it in the same way Mission: Killfast‘s villains do their “skin mag” empire: as a front to keep people distracted. The would-be Playboy Mansion, largely a pool adjacent to a neighborhood golf course, allows for some skanky ladies with rockin’ bods to cavort about in swimwear apparently swiped from Star Search‘s spokesmodel wardrobe. For whatever reason, the woman Mikels’ camera chooses to focus on has a shaved head, as if she stopped by after chemo.
Elsewhere, there’s ’80s B-movie starlet Jewel Shepard (Hollywood Hot Tubs), eschewing thread. Appearing in a see-through mesh shirt to accentuate the bare nipples, Mikels himself. Later, he appears with novelty eyebrows, which is something to see, even if the movie is not. Coming out between his War Cat and the drama (allegedly) Female Slaves’ Revenge, it’s an incomprehensible mess of polka dots and mullets, of Canon fax machines and Casio scores. —Rod Lott