Moments after attempting to seduce his sexy wife (Cherilyn Basile) with hot talk of their booming electronics company’s quarterly earnings, Joseph Lawrence (Jeff Risk, an apt surname for this tyro) is shocked to find himself cock-blocked. Thugs led by Dutch (Cameron Mitchell, Gorilla at Large) break into the Lawrences’ living room, rape and murder the missus, yet leave Joseph merely confined to a wheelchair for life (and his voice dubbed by Russell Johnson, the Professor of Gilligan’s Island!), all because the couple wouldn’t sell!
Upon release from the hospital, Joseph calls upon his Vietnam vet pal, Larry (The Enforcer’s Jean Glaudé), he of the Fisher-Price Afro, for assistance. From his beloved rose garden, Joseph lets his vengeance-dripping wishes be known: “Fragrance opens a man’s mind,” he says. “I want you to assemble a squad.”
A Kill Squad, dammit!
With writer/director Patrick G. Donahue (Troma’s They Call Me Macho Woman!) sparing viewers no detail, Larry goes about recruiting a Village People-esque Rainbow Coalition of revenge: a Gold’s Gym ‘roided honky, a black cowboy, an Asian gardener, a Hispanic construction worker, a Jewish businessman in the insect trade — ‘Nam buddies one and all. We meet each prospective squad member as he happens to kung-fu several dudes at once for some flimsy disagreement or another; as the fight concludes, Larry and the others (increasing in number at each stop, like The Little Rascals used to do) just walk up and say, “Joseph needs you,” and boom — the Kill Squad is complete, no questions asked. Instead of group health insurance, they get matching camo uniforms. To up the intimidation factor, they know simple math; as the movie’s tagline has it, “12 Hands … 12 Feet … 24 Reasons to Die!”
From there, Kill Squad enters its second cycle of agonizing repetition — one that carries the actioner through the back half. Donahue’s chockablock formula goes like this: The members approach a(n) [insert one item from Column A] and say, “We’re looking for a man named [insert one item from Column B],” and then a fight breaks out, as does a jazz-funk theme heavy on that plunky Seinfeld bass, ending with a squad member getting [insert one item from Column C] by a mysterious man in Diabolik black. Repeat until only one man survives!
Imagine if The Expendables were truly expendable and not at all famous (most of these guys never acted before or after), and that’s Kill Squad. It’s like Agatha Christie’s First Blood, but also M. Night Shyamalan’s Fists of Fury, because a Big Twist awaits … that you can see coming from the clichéd mile away. However, that’s exactly the kind of thing you want from a no-name VHS action flick with delusional intentions. You’ll love it! —Rod Lott