The Karate Dog

This scene was the least gay thing in this movie.

They didn’t just lower the bar with this movie. They got drunk and played limbo with it until Mike from accounting knocked it off the poles, and they left it where if fell; in a cooling puddle of sick on the rec-room floor.

Let me paint you a picture with my words here. Granted it will probably end up reading like a Jackson Pollock, but that is only half my fault given the subject matter I am attempting to study. It’s like asking Michael J Fox to sit still for a life drawing class.

Dirt Nasty from Three Loco plays LAPD computer expert Peter Fowler, who is investigating the murder of an elderly Chinese man in Chinatown of all places. However, things become complicated when he learns that the only witness if a dog named Cho Cho. Much to Fowlers surprise he discovers that the old Chinese man, like every old Chinese man in American cinema, was a martial arts expert, and had passed this knowledge down to his dog, who also became a martial arts expert.

If you think this movie is getting just a tad too tereifa for you, then hold onto your yamakas, because this dreidel hasn’t finished spinning yet. This ‘karate dog’ is also the only dog in the world who can speak perfect human. So Fowler and Cho Cho team up to track down the crime lord responsible for killing Mr. Miyagi.

Nope. Still not even close to being done yet. Oy vey! My Rabbi would be having a shvitz by now.

Because I respect the man I will not tell you who supplies the voice for the dog. Let’s just call him C. Chase. No, that’s too obvious. Let’s call him Chevy C. Yes, Chevy Chase lowered his standards for paying work considerably for this role. And better yet, the villain, the man who this karate dog ends up fighting with? Jon Voight. I can’t even make something that ridiculous up. Chevy Chase playing a crime fighting dog who speaks human and knows karate duelling it out with Jon Voight in a grimy rooftop battle to the death.

It’s as if they knew the movie couldn’t succeed on its own merit so they just leeched material where they could,  borrowing heavily from such martial arts classics as The Karate Kid and... Karate Kid 2, probably? And by ‘borrowing heavily’ I mean blatantly stealing from. They even do a Matrix slow-mo rip off, which is surprising because the guy that wrote the screenplay for this movie wasn’t even born when The Matrix came out in fucking 1999.

Is this horse moving? No? It's dead? Well you better KEEP FUCKING FLOGGING IT ANYWAY!

What a penis.

They didn’t just plumb the depths here. They anchored off the Mariana trench and scoured it with a hooked dragnet, uncovering several swollen corpses and disturbing the eternal slumber of a Lovecraftian entity.

This movie sucks balls. The stunt doubles look nothing like their actor counterparts, the story is so bad it actually swings around to good and then back to bad again, the script was written by someone who has no understanding of subtlety or nuance, or any words for that matter, and the CG dog effects are so awful I pity whoever made them. They stand out amongst the other shit like a kid who ate highlighters. Sure, they are bright and out of place, but in this scenario that isn’t a good thing.

Fuck you movie. Here’s 84 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

And talk about persecution. Microsoft Word does not consider Yiddish to be proper words. 

The Secret Agents Club

What makes a good movie?

The only reason I bought this movie; the misleading cover
tricking me into thinking that Hulk Hogan played two roles.
Like Double Impact, but shittier.

Is it a compelling story or driving narrative? Is it the well rounded and identifiable characters? Is it Bruce Campbell’s intimidating jaw line? Well, everybody would have their own opinion on the matter, and they’d be wrong, because they’re stupid.

And, in all probability, cheap too.

No, what makes a good movie is a bit more complex than that. It is the sum of its parts, the gelling of the plot and characters, suspense, action, thrills and chills and big tits that jiggle about unnecessarily. It’s like a puzzle, just a disorienting jumble of sequential shots unless they are all put together to build the whole picture or a litter of ginger kittens climbing over a basket of yarn which reminds you that you should probably call your grandma for her birthday last month because, let’s face it, she isn’t getting any younger, and you’ll want to be in the good books when the reading of the will comes about.

If a good movie is a completed jigsaw, then this movie is a bunch of Polaroids of fat women that someone has attacked with a pair of scissors and left strewn on your carpet as some sort of weird fetish.

There isn’t one cohesive idea within the confines of this movie. Even the DVD case smells alarmingly of burnt plastic and sadness. I found it in a bargain bin at a convenience store for $2 and I feel I got the bum end of that deal. The tag line lies to us with its promises of action-packed adventure; the only thing this movie is packed with is cheese and gayness. And not even that fabulous gayness that lets you dress well and be charming enough that my mum likes you either.

The story revolves around Hulk Hogan, a ‘dad by day/spy by night’ secret agent who is part of the Secret Agent Club, which consists entirely of him, a fake moustache and some old Chinese guy who runs a toy store – which sounds like the shittiest club imaginable, right after the Twilight Fan Club.

Hulk is sent on a mission to steal a top secret laser gun from a black market auction but his disguise as a 6’7” blonde, mustachioed Russian general with an amazingly good American accent is blown by his inability to not make puns and punch henchmen. While he does manage to escape, he must now hide the laser gun, himself and his son from the people who want it back. Hilarity is meant to ensue, but fails to make an appearance due to a conflicting dentist appointment. It even had a note from its mum.

There are so many things wrong with this movie it’s hard to know where to start. The special effects are quite literally a few stop motion disappearing gags and a kid with half a pack of sparklers. The evil henchman had a leg made of heavy metal that squeaks when he walks but is quite obviously a giant sock spray painted silver. Hulk Hogan wears a wig and a fake moustache while he is being a secret agent, but is bald with a skullet and a clean shaved lip the rest of the time, which does nothing to hide the fact that he is Hulk Hogan, and only highlights the fact that the 90’s was a horrible thing to behold.

It’s as if some sped kid with cancer asked to make a movie and the Make a Wish Foundation reluctantly agreed, so the kid wrote the script and suggested the cast, and then Make a Wish Foundation said nothing, but stood idly back with a heart full of pity knowing that, while that kid won’t live to see the final product, millions of healthy children would be, and that in his jealousy of non-terminal children, what this boy wished for was actually a curse to be upon us, and our children yet to come.

Thankfully, though, much like the present I got from that old man down the street who used to give me fresh plums, this film was actually a snuff film, but the only thing being killed was Hulk Hogan’s career.

Evaluation: About as enjoyable as passing half a bag of bladder stones.