This is without a doubt the greatest, wildest, most gloriously ridiculous and hilarious action movie ever made about a kick-boxing, a**-whupping, limb-breaking vigilante Catholic priest with the gift of second sight. Yes, you read that correctly. Our hero (woodenly played by martial arts champion Michael Foley, who's now a karate teacher) is a devout man of the cloth blessed with amazing psychic powers (he has premonitions of evil events right before they happen) and even more extraordinary deadly chopsocky skills. The butt-stomping padre is sent to a particularly hellish crime-ridden section of downtown Los Angeles. Pretty soon he's cleaning up the heretofore dirty and downtrodden neighborhood, cracking down hard on rapists, drug dealers and other such no-account scum of the earth sinner types.
If you think the above plot synopsis sounds unbelievably absurd and outrageous (and it's certainly both, but in the best "what the hell?" jaw-dropping surrealistically dreadful way imaginable), just wait until you actually watch this fabulously freaky flick. Two of the priests are played by none other than faded "C.H.I.P.S." dip Erik Estrada and an especially sour Jan-Michael Vincent, the latter as a cranky man of the cloth who's most sincere wish is that God would grant him a transfer already! (Pay astute attention to the newspaper Mr. Vincent holds in a bulk of his scenes; at one truly magical point you can briefly see pages of the script with Jan's lines on them glued inside the paper!). Their irritatingly perky landlady is portrayed by blonde bubble-head Judy Landers of crummy TV infomercial fame! Better still, a couple of nefarious dope peddlers Foley foils are portrayed by none other than onetime 70's blaxploitation biggie Jim Brown and the massive "Maniac Cop" himself Robert Z'Dar, who looks uncharacteristically suave and spiffy here in a finely pressed suit.
All those above cited folks are a definite hoot and a half to watch embarrass themselves royally on screen, but the guy who clearly makes off with the Grand Booby Prize is my main man Don Stroud, whose incredibly berserk and over-the-top hambone turn as a thoroughly deranged fruitcake serial killer who thinks he's a vampire is an absolute gut-busting riot to behold. Poor Don looks and sounds like hell here: Fat, pasty and way out of shape (Don goes shirtless in one scene and it sure ain't a pretty sight), with black raccoon rings around his half-closed eyes and blurting out his insane ranting dialog in a pained raspy croak, Stroud appears to have spent an insubstantial amount of time at a drug detoxification center. One simply hasn't lived until witnessing the sublimely screwy moment in which a cheesy computer-animated skull on Don's dresser comes alive and shouts: "Otis, give me some blood! Kill the b**ch! Kill her!" Oh yeah, Don keeps the skulls of his female victims and uses them as cereal bowls (now, that's something special). Even more astounding is the sight of Foley in full clerical garb (white collar, flowing black robe, the whole works, baby) popping up at various crime scenes brandishing Chinese stars, daggers shaped like crucifixes, and pearl-handled 45 caliber pistols with crosses emblazoned on them. And Foley even gives the low-life hoodlums an ultimatum before busting loose with his quick'n'lethal martial arts skills: They can either ask God for forgiveness and get on the straight'n'narrow path of pure goodness or face the righteously destructive fury of Father Beatdown. Why, this wonderfully wacked marvel even comes complete with an alarmingly atrocious rap ending credits theme song! Needless to add, this honey rates highly as truly essential viewing for hard-core oddball bad film buffs.
If you think the above plot synopsis sounds unbelievably absurd and outrageous (and it's certainly both, but in the best "what the hell?" jaw-dropping surrealistically dreadful way imaginable), just wait until you actually watch this fabulously freaky flick. Two of the priests are played by none other than faded "C.H.I.P.S." dip Erik Estrada and an especially sour Jan-Michael Vincent, the latter as a cranky man of the cloth who's most sincere wish is that God would grant him a transfer already! (Pay astute attention to the newspaper Mr. Vincent holds in a bulk of his scenes; at one truly magical point you can briefly see pages of the script with Jan's lines on them glued inside the paper!). Their irritatingly perky landlady is portrayed by blonde bubble-head Judy Landers of crummy TV infomercial fame! Better still, a couple of nefarious dope peddlers Foley foils are portrayed by none other than onetime 70's blaxploitation biggie Jim Brown and the massive "Maniac Cop" himself Robert Z'Dar, who looks uncharacteristically suave and spiffy here in a finely pressed suit.
All those above cited folks are a definite hoot and a half to watch embarrass themselves royally on screen, but the guy who clearly makes off with the Grand Booby Prize is my main man Don Stroud, whose incredibly berserk and over-the-top hambone turn as a thoroughly deranged fruitcake serial killer who thinks he's a vampire is an absolute gut-busting riot to behold. Poor Don looks and sounds like hell here: Fat, pasty and way out of shape (Don goes shirtless in one scene and it sure ain't a pretty sight), with black raccoon rings around his half-closed eyes and blurting out his insane ranting dialog in a pained raspy croak, Stroud appears to have spent an insubstantial amount of time at a drug detoxification center. One simply hasn't lived until witnessing the sublimely screwy moment in which a cheesy computer-animated skull on Don's dresser comes alive and shouts: "Otis, give me some blood! Kill the b**ch! Kill her!" Oh yeah, Don keeps the skulls of his female victims and uses them as cereal bowls (now, that's something special). Even more astounding is the sight of Foley in full clerical garb (white collar, flowing black robe, the whole works, baby) popping up at various crime scenes brandishing Chinese stars, daggers shaped like crucifixes, and pearl-handled 45 caliber pistols with crosses emblazoned on them. And Foley even gives the low-life hoodlums an ultimatum before busting loose with his quick'n'lethal martial arts skills: They can either ask God for forgiveness and get on the straight'n'narrow path of pure goodness or face the righteously destructive fury of Father Beatdown. Why, this wonderfully wacked marvel even comes complete with an alarmingly atrocious rap ending credits theme song! Needless to add, this honey rates highly as truly essential viewing for hard-core oddball bad film buffs.