Deathstalker (1983)

Deathstalker is a Roger Corman Barbarian film that followed in the awe-inspired wake of the Schwarzenegger Conan films. This wasn't a rare thing at the time. Especially in Italy for some reason. Much like they did with the western, the Italians churned out a boat-load of knock-offs.

But this film, is Pure America. How can I say this? Well, there are 10 quantifiably separate boob-shots in this movie. That's right. In the name of online journalism, I counted them (and even took a screenshot of each to mosaic them all together for you).

The hero of this film is a would-be rapist (though, technically she didn't say "no," she didn't say "yes" either) recruited by a once-king who's been thrown out of his own castle by his former magician.

Our Hero

Oh, and to make sure you know the evil magician is evil, there's this scene where he feeds some kid's eyeball to his muppet.

A balanced diet for any muppet

But seriously, no one's watching this movie for the plot. It's all about the boobs and the sword-slashery. Mr. Corman gets the sword stuff out of the way early by having our hero go to the Yoda-cave where he fights a giant troll and wields his light-saber of justice.

You thought I was kidding?

With his magic sword in-hand, the hero recruits his own band of miscreants to the quest he has only-kinda-sorta taken up. One such mal-content is the Yoda-guy who turns into an old sage once he's exposed to light. Another is a sword fighter with the fashion sense of an 80's teenage girl.

This doesn't seem like it would be very effective armor

The final member of the guild is a topless she-warrior. Because, remember, boobs and swords. Why not put them together?

I'm not complaining, but this also doesn't seem like very effective "armor"

At some point, Mr. Corman decided there wasn't quite enough sword-slashing boobery and figured he'd transform one of the magician's henchmen into a woman to get just a smidgen extra. If the following scene weren't odd enough, keep in mind while you're watching it that our hero ends up half-penetrating this guy before he turns back to his henchman-form.

Out of nowhere, there's a tournament where everyone fights to be heir to the magician's throne. But really the magician plans on killing the winner so that all the most powerful warriors of the land are dead and he can rule unopposed. (Again, we're not here for the plot) At the end of the tournament, Bruce Lee, er, I mean the Deathstalker-hero-rapist is the victor. Even over his little fashion-buddy (but only after some homo-erotic Fight Clubbing....on the bed).

Then it's just a matter of killing the magician and taking the trophy-princess. (But first, we need another Star Wars derivative)

After having time to play with both boobs and his magic sword, our hero rightfully chooses boobs. Just like any true American Barbarian would.

Make Mine An American Ninja

Holy Shit! Michael Dudikoff has a fucking website! You can check out the awesomeness here.

While that marinates, I'll tell you that I loved American Ninja as a kid. Apparently, what made it so awesome to me (and probably to the people who made it as well) was that I was oblivious to the idea that ninja are supposed to be stealthy. I mean, the whole concept of a ninja is NOT to be seen and the first thing these ninja do is ambush an army convoy in the middle of the day!

The film centers around a amnesiac super ninja who joins the Army in order drive a truck (doesn't the Army have any skill assessment tests?) and ends up saving a colonel's daughter (so, Hugo Chavez here has the US Army at his disposal?) from a guy named Black Star Ninja (pictured). No, he isn't the most metal band name that you've ever heard, but rather a super fucking badass ninja general who has a fucking laser on his arm (no kidding).

This film is like Rambo 2 if it had been written by A Rebel Without a Cause and sponsored by Blockbuster Video. Apparently, Chuck Norris was originally cast in the lead role, but once he realized that his beard would be covered up in the ninja outfit, he wisely declined in favor of Missing in Action 2: The Beginning. Unlike that film, this one is something my older brother would have written when he was 9, in-between ordering ninja-stars out of magazines.

A few questions that arise while viewing this masterpiece: Would it really be necessary to tell your driver to "follow him" when you're chasing someone? Why don't I have a portrait that depicts John Wayne's disembodied head floating over a desert landscape? Why can't "ninja magic" solve more of life's problems? And most importantly, why would a younger me love this film quite so much?

Rated "R" movies that I couldn't watch when I was too young seem especially quaint now. The idea that there was a time, a me, that wasn't allowed to watch a movie where the worst fight choreographers in the world were gathered together in order to convince the audience that a guy who didn't even know martial arts was the top dog ninja of the land and killed other ninjas with his shinobi-tastic moves is just strange. It's a weird connection to the past that brings on an eerie nostalgia for the days when Nightmare on Elm Street was scary and the only thing to do with a frisbee was to play Tron with it. That link to the days when the bad guys in most movies had an uzi reminds me that things have changed a lot since the days of Reagan, but Ninja will always be cool.

UPDATE 4/7/10: Apparently, Michael Dudikoff's web page has been shut down for failure to pay web-hosting fees, so as a replacement, I give you this. (There's even a phone number?)