Supposedly Manuel Noriega was smoked out with the help of bad rock & roll. This movie would have anyone giving up his secrets in a matter of hours.
It takes millions to make even a bad movie and only the guy who can write the check can say 'yes.' In this case, the guy with the big checkbook was the writer director.
Menachem Golan was the middle east's answer to American schlockmeisters of the 50s. He has nearly 200 movies to his 'credit' -- mainly exploitation quickies. This film is not the high point -- at least culturally, though perhaps chemically.
Insipid 'stars' murky villainy and some of the most laughable 'futuristic' costuming and design could almost make this a cult howler. But there is one redeeming moment in the movie, and it lasts about 12 seconds: when in the music company's lobby, we 'meet' a company of foil-clad ballet dancers and the camera tracks their sensuous dance to a subdued beat. The moment is sublime, but it is surrounded by such painfully inept acting, dialog and plot development that it's just not worth the pain...
It takes millions to make even a bad movie and only the guy who can write the check can say 'yes.' In this case, the guy with the big checkbook was the writer director.
Menachem Golan was the middle east's answer to American schlockmeisters of the 50s. He has nearly 200 movies to his 'credit' -- mainly exploitation quickies. This film is not the high point -- at least culturally, though perhaps chemically.
Insipid 'stars' murky villainy and some of the most laughable 'futuristic' costuming and design could almost make this a cult howler. But there is one redeeming moment in the movie, and it lasts about 12 seconds: when in the music company's lobby, we 'meet' a company of foil-clad ballet dancers and the camera tracks their sensuous dance to a subdued beat. The moment is sublime, but it is surrounded by such painfully inept acting, dialog and plot development that it's just not worth the pain...