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This film is so diabolically bad and such a chore to sit through that writer director Joseph Merhi should pay people to view it, rather than vice versa. Beginning with a counterfeit money print shop being besieged by Robert Z'Dar and his gang of opportunists, we soon follow the FBI in the form of Karen Black and LA police in the form of detective Wings Hauser in their attempt to recover the printing plates and the counterfeit currency. The way in which one of the print shop workers is killed suggests that the killer is a Vietnam veteran, and soon Hauser makes the connection with Z'Dar, his Vietnam commander, via a series of unconvincing wartime flashbacks including a bottle shooting montage. The only compelling thing about this film is Z'Dar's face, which inexplicably looks like the actor has had cheek and chin implants, and who's look is only explained by someone referring to him as having "a big jaw". He even sports the same look in the flashbacks, so we can't blame the Vietcong. Hauser is given the annoying habit of repeating questions posed to him as his answer, though his all too few scenes of banter with Black are mildly entertaining. This is the kind of film where scenes with someone standing on a rooftop and in front of a swimming pool get the anticipated payoff, where a person can hide under a cardboard box during the siege of the print store and not be discovered, where the writer's idea of wit is "There's 458 homicides in LA and you're (Hauser) responsible for over 10% of them", and "You got change of a buck? What do I look like - a bank?!".
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