You know a movie is entertaining when the lead character shields himself from a close range gunshot with, uh, a pillow… and you just let it go. You’re not gonna argue with it. Fine. Pillows are bulletproof in this movie’s world. Cool with me. I’m no physics expert. Who am I, Allen Einstein? E = MC Hammer? I don’t know anything about it. Besides, there are too many other things happening here, namely the ARMY of gun-toting, high-kicking pretty girls.
So, there’s this lady mad scientist (Nancy Kwan) in Manila who’s up to fishy business in a secret lab with psychedelic lighting and transparent plastic surgical gowns that make everyone look like Martians. She needs guards and she needs mercenaries and for that she’s hired an all-female death squad in low-cut mini-dresses. Makes sense to me—while we’re stopping bullets with pillows, at least. The big monkeywrench in her plans: the world’s toughest insurance claims investigator (beefy 70s man’s man Ross Hagen). He finds himself in shootouts, car chases and mad dashes on foot through the streets, knocking over every fruit cart and food stand that happens to be in the path on his way to the truth.
I’m talkin’ Goofball City here. This is campy, fast-paced and never at a loss for a ridiculous moment. It’s another pebble on the mountain of 1970s American exploitation films that were shot in the Philippines, half of which seem to feature Sid Haig in there somewhere (yep, he’s here). Meanwhile, the martial arts scenes are a HUGE highlight for all the wrong reasons. This is low-budget stuff and the producers maybe couldn’t afford a fight choreographer or anyone who knew the first thing about how to chop some socky, so the fights look like director Robert O’Neill and actresses Maria De Aregon and Roberta Collins merely watched a few kung fu movies and then just winged it from there. The results are clumsy to the max. They’re just terrible. Stevie Wonder could direct better fight scenes. I love ’em.