All posts by Louis Fowler

Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence (1992)

The first two Maniac Cop flicks, while not great cinema, are pretty fun movies to waste the afternoon with. But Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence? Yeesh!

Mere hours after Matt Cordell, the undead maniac cop in question, is laid to rest, he’s resurrected by a voodoo priest for reasons never fully explained. Now Cordell skulks around corners and other badly lit areas for much of the film.

That leaves us with Robert Davi, back as Detective McKinney, throwing around terrible one-liners and even worse come-ons, mostly to an anonymous doctor treating his cop friend — and maniac cop paramour — who was recently shot by, of all people, Jackie Earle Haley and his pharmacist girlfriend.

Before you can scream “What the hell is going on here!” at your television set, somehow Davi and the doctor end up on city streets with Cordell driving a flaming machine of vehicular death. The film’s main selling point, while at first is pretty cool, wears out its welcome out after a repetitive few minutes as the running time is stretched as far as it can possibly go.

Over the course of my life, I had many chances to watch this Cop entry and never did, as something always seemed “off” about it. Apparently, I was right: The rights were bought up by the absolutely terrible Joel Soisson, with a threadbare plot by Larry Cohen — written while he was driving! — and not directed by William Lustig, who walked off after a day of shooting. It’s now credited to Alan Smithee.

In the end, the only people looking like they’re having any fun are Davi and the Maniac Cop, Robert Z’Dar. If I needed something positive to say, good for them. I hope those paychecks were all right, even though I doubt it. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Broadcast Signal Intrusion (2021)

I’ve always found the criminal hijacking of television stations intriguing, usually from a scarier frame of mind than most people. To the creators, it’s a fractured art project; to me, it’s the knob-turning product of manipulative fear I find myself watching in the dark over and over again when I really shouldn’t.

Disagree with me if you must, but I think director Jacob Gentry and writers Phil Drinkwater and Tim Woodall seem to agree with me, as their flick, Broadcast Signal Intrusion, repeatedly hits every play button of unrealized fear that I’ve never been able to fully express to anyone else.

Hearkening back to the signal disruptions of years past such as the Max Headroom incident or the “I Feel Fantastic” video, here we find video archiver James (Harry Shum Jr.) as he’s found a few old broadcast interruptions of a mannequin in a strange room chanting something over and over again, played to great effect; disturbed, he ends up going down one rabbit-eared hole after another to find the smallest shred of truth behind it.

Pretty soon, creepy acolytes, disturbed video enthusiasts and the suicidal followers of these urban legends come out of the VHS woodwork under the guise of helping him out, but mostly end up terrorizing him. As this obsession stretches into his past and his long-lost wife, he appears to head this manic direction as well.

Whereas Broadcast Signal Intrusion seems to be desperately reaching for a finale that might — while not explaining everything — go for an incredibly outlandish ending that a bizarre film like this truly deserves. Sadly, it peters out in the most deflating way possible, leading me to want to spend my life feverishly hunting for the original ending.

But that’s crazy because that’s the original ending … I mean, it has to be, right? —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life Is Calling (1986)

In the midst of a freebase freakout, famed comedian Jo Jo (Richard Pryor) blows up his living room, as you typically do. Somehow, he’s taken to the hospital where, as he lays dying, his astral form steps out of his dying body and he wanders naked through the parking lot; good thing a limo is there to pick him up and, I suppose, clothe him.

Over the next 90 minutes, we’re taken through Jo Jo’s (nonfictional) life, starting as a child growing up in a whorehouse, to a teenager leaving home to work in a comedy club. By this point, it’s easy to see that Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling is semi-autobiographical, as then we’re treated to the drink, the drugs and the women plaguing and, ultimately, destroying Jo Jo’s (and Pryor’s) life.

While this would be a disastrous hour-and-a-half funeral dirge for many, Pryor makes sure there are just as many laughs as there are tears — a real feat, especially given the sensitive subject matter. Towing the dreamlike line between real life and real fantasy, Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling was a remarkably entertaining way for Pryor to tell his tale of comedic woe, especially in the wake of his self-immolation.

The lone film directed by Pryor, from a screenplay co-written with comedian Paul Mooney, it’s a lost cult classic that will probably never receive the timely due it truly deserves; as a matter of fact, I had to pick up Time-Life’s Ultimate Richard Pryor Collection to find a good copy of it. To be fair, I was going to get that anyway. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Fritz the Cat (1972)

Fritz the Cat, a countercultural icon based on the work of Robert Crumb, kind of proves that the counterculture really didn’t have that extremely large of a foot to keep on truckin’ through the ’70s. Ostensibly about a liberally fraudulent cat who loves to have as much unsolicited intercourse as possible, this animated film made — I’m willing to bet — far more Republicans than Nixon ever could.

In the typical fashion of director Ralph Bakshi, an extremely hit-or-miss filmmaker, we find Fritz hanging out in an anthropomorphized variation of New York City, getting high, having group sex and, I think, dropping out of school.

After a series of New York-based adventures, we follow him and a female dog (a bitch, get it?) to the deserts of California where, after a Nazi rabbit brutally beats a horse prostitute, Fritz hooks up with a terrorist organization to blow up a power plant, blowing himself up, with unsettling sexual results.

More a collection of art pieces than an actual linear story, Fritz the Cat seems to be made up of barely connected vignettes, done in the artistic stylings of early ’70s greeting cards. In between all of the horribly unsexual sex, the use of constant racial figures is most troublesome — for example, Black people are jive-talking crows — taking the film into Song of the South territory.

But that was the ’70s in America, I guess.

The first cartoon to be rated X, Fritz the Cat shouldn’t be banned, but it’s probably right where it deserves to be: a misfire and multicolor oddity that, honestly, could be mostly ignored and, thankfully, is. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Career Opportunities (1991)

While many people look to 1990’s Home Alone as the height of John Hughes’ Hollywood power, I look to the next year, filled with unsung flicks like Only the Lonely, Dutch and, at the top of my list, Career Opportunities, directed by TV’s Bryan Gordon; don’t worry, I haven’t heard of him, either.

The ultimate hipster by today’s standards, Jim Dodge (Frank Whaley) is the ultimate loser: Although over 21 years of age, he lives as home, is the town liar and, worse, starts a job at Target as the overnight janitor. As expected in these studies of arrested development, he goofs off at work, mostly by roller-skating in his boxers while wearing a wedding veil.

This all changes when he meets the alarmingly beautiful Josie (the alarmingly beautiful Jennifer Connelly), an emotionally impoverished rich girl who, apparently, fell asleep in the dressing rooms. Against all rhyme and reason, they fall in love. (Hey, it was the ’90s.)

The movie kind of falls apart in the third act when we’re introduced to two redneck crooks who are there to rob (?) the Target. As annoying as that might be for those who missed the pristine Hughes of the ’80s, it’s easy to forget the coasting Hughes of the ’90s, when comical crooks were a must.

Regardless, I’ve always loved this movie; even though it proved to be a Home Alone for the Gen X crowd that, obviously, had no time for it. Still, much of it worked, mostly due to the likable presence of Connelly and the sheer hope that, if I worked at Target, too, maybe I’d meet a girl like her.

Sadly, I worked at the local library instead, missing my chance. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.