Martial Arts

Fighting Life (1981)

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From the box: “Fighting Life is a remarkable film rejoicing the spirit of life. It is the dynamic tale of two brothers who overcome immense physical and emotional handicaps, and become vital members of society. The two stars of the film are both physically handicapped and truly prove that everyone can make it. Starring: All Star Kung Fu Cast.”

In reality, Fighting Life is a decent film rejoicing in the fact that they got the two stars of Crippled Masters together again for a couple hundred yen. It is the generic tale of two brothers who drive around in a specially built vehicle that looks like a combination of Fred Flintstone’s car and a Rube Goldberg contraption. The two stars of the film are both physically handicapped and truly prove that moviegoers can only take so much of the one guy’s Thalidomide flipper-nub flapping around before they get visibly ill. Starring: Two Guys I’d Be Hard-Pressed to Name, Other than “Dude with No Arms” and “Dude with Almost No Legs.”

Sometimes found retitled as Crippled Masters 3, this isn’t as good as the original Crippled Masters because — and I hate to say this — it’s not as exploitative. Instead of graphic scenes of blood and gore, you get elongated employment searches. If you’ve seen one kung-fu flick with Frankie Shum and Jack Conn — real-life guys who get all the best parking spaces — you’ve seen them all. —Rod Lott

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Horror

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Ritual (2002)

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Ritual was supposed to follow 1995’s Demon Knight and 1996’s Bordello of Blood into theaters as the third in a trilogy of Tales from the Crypt movies. But it didn’t, finally premiering on DVD, and that’s because Ritual is shit-ual. Trust me: You’ll be praying for the return of Dennis Miller.

In this remake of Val Lewton’s classic I Walked with a Zombie, a post-schnozz-job Jennifer Grey portrays Dr. Alice, who, after having her medical license suspended for two years, accepts an advertised hospice position in Jamaica. Once there, she wonders if maybe she hadn’t made a rash decision: “Why does everyone carry machetes?”

Her employer, Craig Sheffer, explains his crazy brother (Daniel Lapaine) believes he’s a zombie. With so much voodoo afoot, lots of hallucinations are experienced in this ridiculously routine shocker: crawling spiders, moving trees, crashing ceiling, Medusa hair and so on. Holy shit, does Grey sure scream a lot. But she has no Principal Rooney to kick in the face immediately thereafter, which makes a huge difference.

That’s because a solid sense of humor is sorely missing; other than the slapped-on opening featuring the Cryptkeeper in dreadlocks, in no way does it ever feel like a Crypt film, much less a Crypt episode. I did like the necrophilia gag, but that’s the last shot of the movie. That’s right: Not even the Cryptkeeper could be bothered to show up and say goodbye. (The post-credit fake bloopers — complete with fart joke — don’t count.) —Rod Lott

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Sex

Fantom Kiler (1998)

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How many Pollacks does it take to make Fantom Kiler? I don’t have the answer. Regardless, Fantom Kiler — yes, that’s right, only one L — has to be the single most fucked-up movie I’ve ever seen.

In a bus station, two bumbling janitors — one of whom looks like Super Mario, so we’ll call the other one Luigi, for the sake of balance — push their mops and imagine what all the women there look like naked. Among them is a skinny brunette, who then slips in front of them and rejects Mario’s painful advances. So he imagines the woman walking through a spooky forest at night, gradually losing her pieces of clothing to tree branches and barbed wire before she is stark naked, whereupon she meets Fantom Kiler. With his trenchcoat and bandaged face, he looks exactly like Darkman, except you can’t see his eyes. He slashes her body all over and rapes her with a knife.

Back in reality, Mario (who resembles SNL’s Seth Meyers with a fake mustache) is in his office (since when do janitors have offices?) when the new cleaning woman arrives. She comes to work in the acceptable maid attire — namely, a short tube top that barely covers her breasts and cut-off shorts. Much to Mario’s delight, she starts scrubbing things up in suggestive positions, often exposing her breasts. Then she offers to demonstrate why she is the reigning Miss Butt Beautiful and does something with a wooden spoon that I just can’t bring myself to put into words; let’s just say “spoontang” and leave it at that. Then Mario dreams she meets the Fantom Kiler. She dies, while buck naked.

This cycle repeats, with Fantom Kiler ready to “kile” any naked woman he meets. He picks up one blonde in a car, which then conveniently stalls. While checking the oil, the Fantom Killer needs a rag, so the hussy offers her pantyhose. Oops, she isn’t wearing any, so she takes off her shirt, too. Her shorts mysteriously disappear, only to reappear underneath the car, thus not only allowing the viewer to see what her gynecologist sees in horrifying close-up, but also allowing Fantom Kiler the prime opportunity to ram a metal spike all up in her pooper with a mallet.

This goes on and on, later with Ms. Spoontang reappearing to get intimate with Fantom Kiler’s mop handle. Then Mario, too wrapped up in his imagination, chokes on a peanut and dies. And so does the Fantom Kiler. Meanwhile, Luigi has been investigating this string of murders, even though they were all in the mind of Mario, who again, met his untimely demise by choking on a peanut.

I know you think I just made all this up, but I swear to you I did not. —Rod Lott

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Documentary

The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years (1988)

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Back in 1981, filmmaker Penelope Spheeris released a searing, exciting and sometimes frightening documentary about L.A’s then-burgeoning punk-rock movement. The Decline of Western Civilization told the tales of the bands responsible for that music’s rise to infamy, most memorably including a pre-Henry Rollins Black Flag and The Germs.

Seven years later, a new kind of music dominated L.A’s scene, inspiring Spheeris to once again pick up her camera, but what she found resulted in a completely different kind of film. If the first Decline was a dramatic look at a movement filled with disaffected youth producing the sonic equivalent of their own dissatisfaction and inner torment, Part II: The Metal Years turned out to be a comedy about a bunch of shiftless douchebags who liked to wear makeup and get laid.

Its subtitle is somewhat misleading, since the bulk of the acts under view here are of the glam variety, leaving just Megadeth for those who take their metal seriously. A few legends pop in and out during the interviews (including Ozzy Osbourne, Alice Cooper, Steven Tyler, Joe Perry, Lemmy, Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons), but for the most part, we’re left with clueless wannabes (like the members of Odin, who insist they’ll only be satisfied until they’re as big as Led Zeppelin or The Beatles. I wonder how that worked out for them?), along with a few almost-weres (London, Faster Pussycat) and Poison (who almost inexplicably come of as sweet, self-aware dudes).

At some point, Spheeris clearly grasped the absurdity of the culture she was documenting and went with it. She films her interview with Stanley with him in bed with three centerfolds, while Simmons’ is conducted in a lingerie shop filled with browsing Playmates. She interviews Ozzy while he makes breakfast (!) and even if he comes off far more coherent and cogent than you’d expect, she still gets away with inserting a fake shot of him spilling orange juice to depict his obvious brain damage.

It’s all very entertaining, but — just like the culture being documented — it’s essentially pointless: what happens when a filmmaker shines a spotlight and finds out that there’s truly nothing there. But then again, The Metal Years was directly responsible for Spheeris being hired to make Wayne’s World, so it at least has one good reason to exist. —Allan Mott

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