Way back in the 1980s and ’90s, martial artist Cynthia Rothrock was one of the queens of late night cable television. Unlike others, such as Shannon Tweed, who were known for their topless contributions to b-movies, Rothrock was an ass kicker. In her flicks, she usually played a tough cop who used her black belt skills to kick ass all over Southern California. Today’s film is a bit of a departure. Not because she didn’t play a cop or didn’t kick any ass, but because she pulled heavy supporting duties in a Hong Kong martial arts flick, something she did only a handful of times in her extensive career.
From 1989 comes City Cops, from director Liu Chia-Yung, who was mostly known for acting and stunt work.
The film follows Hong Kong cops Ching Shing (Michael Kiu Wai Miu) and Tai Kau (Shing Fui-On), as they search for fugitive Kent Tong (played by, and this is not a typo, Kent Tong). Tong fled the United States with an audio tape containing evidence of crimes, or something. The tape matters less as a MacGuffin than Kent Tong. Flying in from the States is Inspector Cindy of the FBI (Rothrock). Continue reading “City Cops, aka Miao tan shuang long, aka Free Fighter”
I’m going to do something that would make all the journalists in my family, living and dead, recoil. I’m going to quote Wikipedia. Of filmmaker Ulli Lommel, the unpaid army of contributors at Wikipedia sayeth:
The 1980s are a difficult time to explain to people who weren’t there. For the 20th century, every decade had a distinctive look and feel, right up until the late ’90s when everything cultural started to have a whiff of nostalgia. One can look at only a few seconds of a film from the 20th century and be able to tell which decade it came from. Meanwhile, here in this rotten century, nothing seems to have changed since the early 2000s. Fashion, music, movies…there are new names, but a unique, stylistic identity to the times we live in has been lost.
Once upon a time, way back in the mid-1970s, some guy in Dallas, Texas, by the name of Bobby Davis, had some dollars in his pocket and a dream. That dream: to write, direct, and produce a blaxploitation flick. He roamed the lounges of Dallas, wading into a sea of nylon and leisure suits in search of the talent he would need to make his vision a reality. Days, nay, weeks, of production pass, and Davis overcomes all of the obstacles which stand in the way of auteurs the world over, and he gets his film in the can. Now, it’s official. Bobby Davis is a filmmaker, forever more. In celebration, and aware that all great artists leave the scene at their peak, he leaves his affairs in order, climbs the Reunion Tower overlooking picturesque Interstate 35E, and hurls himself into the void.
1989 was a banner year for producers Richard Pepin and Joseph Merhi. After a falling out with Ronald Gilchrist at City Lights Entertainment, the two formed PM Entertainment and began cranking out wonderfully inept direct-to-video movies. They released seven movies that first year, and distributed two more. Three of those movies were ersatz neo-noir Los Angeles thrillers featuring Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs, whom older readers will remember as Freddie ‘Boom Boom’ Washington from Welcome Back, Kotter. The relationship with Hilton-Jacobs was so worthwhile, in fact, that PM tapped him to direct. Written alongside Raymond Martino and Merhi, Hilton-Jacobs helmed Angels of the City, the story of a sorority initiation gone wrong.