Kung-fu blaxploitation that’s so over the top, it needs TWO opening credits sequences. Sure, that might play awkwardly onscreen as if it’s a blunder in the editing room and a cynical mind might say that the director is merely padding the film’s running time (to a cool eighty-two minutes) on a bargain basement budget, but I know what’s really going on here.
They’re simply following in the footsteps of that old Universal Studios credo, “A good cast is worth repeating.” So what if they’re doing it at the beginning? These cool cats and kittens deserve it, and so do their great afros.
They’re an elite fighting force who are nigh incapable of making a wrong move while in action. They can beat your face in and still look suave while doing it. Lay all of their black belts end-to-end and the trail will take you clear across town. Plus, one of the stars is named Warhawk Tanzania and you’ve got to get a load of that. Even if you’re ten minutes late to the movie.
Anyway, an African artifact has been stolen and it’s up to the Black Force (or the Force Four or whatever the hell they’re called) to find it—and that’s gonna take a lot of kicking and a lot of chopping with scarcely a dull moment between pummelings. It’s a clumsy classic, not well made and not well written, but the performances carry it. Everyone here is trying to be the baddest ass in the movie. Add it all up and you get a good time for the underground inclined.