My review was written in May 1987 after a Cannes Film Festival Market screening.
Afer a group of wrestling comedies, including "Grunt", "Bad Guys" and "Body Slam", comes a picture on the subject that takes itself (and the pro grapplers' show) ever-so-seriously, "Hammerhead Jones". Actually a vanity production masterminded by title-roler Ted Vernon, pic is an absurd and mawkish clunker that fails even as camp.
With most of the key story elements spoonfed in the form of voice-over by a ring announcer, pic opens with heavyweight champ Hammerhead Jones (Vernon) angrily lecturing a young journalist that wrestling is real and very dangerous. This sets the tone for a cloud-cuckoo land excursion into the parallel world of the American Council of Professional Wrestling, a mythical league where opponents never rehearse their moves with each other, a suplex can almost knock one unconscious (even in the gym) and the center of the wrestling universe is Miami.
Plot catalyst is the death of a top promoter, with his utterly unscrupulous son Numbers Cooper (Anthony Albarino overacting as if cast in the role of a 19th Century mustachioed villain) deciding to exploit the bevy of top wrestlers under contract to him by demanding they appear in "death matches": contests snas referee or time limit and continued until one grappler is physically injured and cannot continue.
Self-righteous screenplay at this point assures as current, loyal wrestling fans will not partake of these gladiatorial travesties, with thrill-seekers substituting in the audience, but this premise is contradicted later. In any event, Hammerhead as champ refuses to take part but ultimately is strong-armed and goaded into The Big Match in corny fashion.
Before the underwhelming climax in the ring (which relies on the standard hokum viewable on any tv wrestling show, not some ultra-violent to-the-death variation), pic indulges in ridiculously sentimental drivel, such as Hammerhead visiting the Catholic Orphanage he single-handedly supports, playing with and lecturing a cute kid there on bullies and sportsmanship and a subplot of his pal Joe Mascaro (who was a wrestling consultant on the shoot) getting put in a wheelchair because of death match injuries. Even small fry will see through the old-fashioned, goody-two-shoes tone.
Another major problem is that pic makes the fatal mistake (as did the other films in the genre except "Body Slam") of not utilizing on-screen top name wrestlers for the fans' delectation. The most familiar wrestler here is chubby Rusty Brooks, hardly a headliner. As for star Vernon (a new car dealer in real life), he is bald, bearded, given to wearing flashy shirts, but nondescript. He looks and plays like a ham & egger (i.e., journeyman wrestler), doesn't have an arresting interview rap routine and seems too nice even in tough guy confrontations. The rest of the cat, including an actress playing a nun who prays for Hammerhead's victories, is weak.
Tech credits are good but in a losing cause. Only a handful of extras are employed for the arena audiences.
