L.A. STREETFIGHTERS (USA, 1985)
Directed by: Richard Park
Starring: Jun Chong, Philip Rhee, James Lew, Rosanna King, Bill “Superfoot” Wallace, Ken Nagayama

Oh, to be in Tony’s shoes. Fresh from Korea at 40 years old, he’s now the new kid in high school; his best friend is the leader of a homoerotic gang who revel in throwing unexpected birthday parties; his girl just happens to be the sister of a rival gang leader; and to top it off, he’s blowing off his homework to run security for a local druglord! The America dream!

Starring BEST OF THE BEST’s Phillip Rhee, James Lew (who’s been cast no less than 40 times as “Asian gangster”), and Jun Chong of BRUCE LEE FIGHTS BACK FROM THE GRAVE, L.A. STREETFIGHTERS is Woo-sang “Richard” Park’s long-forgotten attempt at dramatic U.S.-based martial arts - followed closely by 1986’s MIAMI CONNECTION.

In-between the appearance of a flute-wielding mugger, the heroes’ horribly awkward attempt at hiring prostitutes, and the threat of being “spiked” by cutoff t-shirt-wearing goons… something occurs to you. L.A. STREETFIGHTERS isn’t just a bad movie – it’s one of the most absurd, excruciatingly awful films you’ll ever love.

Everything in L.A. STREETFIGHTERS - from its romantic ice cream interludes to its final showdown inside a fishery/art gallery - is the cinematic equivalent of fool’s gold. Feel free to pick your jaw up off the floor as Tony decides to pull his car over because he’s “thirsty for beer” or when he approaches his best friend in the shower, tells him he needs something to eat, and hands him a banana.

Don’t worry about the plot, which doesn’t actually get underway until an hour in, when kickboxing legend Bill “Superfoot” Wallace singlehandedly roundhouses the pride out of every actor left in the film.

Yes, that hitman is dressed like a Samurai - and yes, that is the film’s only song playing for the 300th time. Squint your eyes past the worst lighting ever committed to celluloid and you’ll see the screen debut of Thomas Wilson (the evil Biff from BACK TO THE FUTURE) in a belly-tee and scream queen Brinke Stevens in an uncredited role as “Woman getting plowed in bathtub.”

The dialogue’s timing is about as accurate as a sundial, and while Tony’s best friend might be in unending agony, those won’t be tears of sadness rolling down your face as this whoring mother tells him off, downs twelve daiquiris, and stumbles home to have sex under a taped-up photo of her dead husband doing a jump kick.

An overwhelmed gang member sobs to his friends: “I never had a birthday cake before,” and, America, you're about to receive the ultimate birthday present – a deliciously messy, cheese-encrusted cake that the world forgot had been baking in the L.A. sun since 1985.