OK. I wasn't expecting much of this film on Amazon, but it was a short blacksploitation/chop-socky film with a lead called Warhawk Tanzania.
Let's start with him. 70s machismo kung fu artist, with almost no acting ability, bizarre novelty fight stances, but full of 'I'm going to be the next Jim Kelly' enthusiasm. He isn't. He's actually quite terrible.
His Jersey Hispanic sidekick is even worse, at both the acting and fighting. the support actors were similarly poor, with the bizarre exception of the 'educated' jokey detective drafted in to help solve the case. He just seemed to be in the wrong film entirely.
As expected, the story moves along in a disjointed fashion. Full of poorly shot fight scenes, where you clearly see that the kicks and punches are missing, but somehow the recipient lurches back in agony. Some of the subway/monster scenes have a genuinely eerie 70s feel, and in parts, the film is not bad. The DP tries some effects in part- slomo/monochrome, etc.
I won't spoil the plot, because actually that doesn't matter. Made in a time when New York was genuinely a dangerous place, people wore flares, and production values were less important than the 'vibe'. I happily watched this to the end just to ensure that Warhawk put the fiend 'in the pocket'.
If you can wade through the clichés and cheesiness, this is worth a view, if only for the terrible fashion, grubby New York outlook, 70s jazz-hipster dialogue and an actor inspired by decolonisation to change his name so spectacularly.
Worth a view. They don't make 'em like this anymore!