Certainly not the best of Jackie Chan’s string of Lo Wei films early in his career, Shaolin Wooden Men casts him as an orphaned mute and the least popular student at the Shaolin temple, where he can barely perform the most rudimentary tasks, like lugging huge buckets of water on his back up an ungodly amount of stairs.
It isn’t until he secretly befriends the temple’s prisoner that he learns kung fu. The script doesn’t give him many chances to use it, with the notable exception being the film’s best scene, in which Jackie must face a gauntlet of 108 of the titular wooden men, which are like robots with cannonballs for fists.
If you’re surprised to discover the prisoner who schools Jackie in the way of the fist and the foot is the same guy who killed his father many years ago, you need to see more kung-fu movies. But Shaolin Wooden Men is not a recommended starting point. —Rod Lott
Disclaimer: I don’t usually watch cop movies. I find them to be of one extreme or the other. Either the cops are portrayed as noble and by-the-book, even if it means the perpetrators are allowed to go free (which veers so far from reality that you may as well affix the “fantasy” label), or portrayed as so corrupt that the film descends into ridiculousness, like 
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No sooner has thieving murderer Joe Breezi (Andy Warhol regular Joe Dallesandro) escaped from prison to sweet freedom than he kills a couple of farmers, stabbing one with the elderly guy’s own pitchfork. At least he has good reason: Joe needs their car to drive to the two-room countryside cottage in which he buried 300 million liras five years prior, underneath the fireplace.
My dad always told me that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. What he failed to mention is that a rapist may be hanging out somewhere around the middle. That’s the case for the pink-skirted schoolgirls who, while on their way home, take a shortcut 