Black Dynamite

Image courtesy of Destination Films

I love Blaxploitation films. They’re bad. They know they’re bad. They own it by embracing the very camp humor that defines the entire genre. Plot? Hell, they don’t need a plot. Just give 'em one cool vigilante, some malt liquor, a harem of ho’s, and a drug problem. They’ll be kicking the Man’s honky white ass outta the ghetto and stealing his bitches before you can say
“Superfly.”

Yet, what I love even more than Blaxploitation films are those rare parodies of the genre that know the difference between good-bad and bad-bad. Scott Sanders’ latest film, Black Dynamite (jokingly filmed in cinemaphonic quadrovision), is one of those good-bad parodies that will unleash some serious kung-fu treachery on any jive turkey who questions their definition of what’s “bad,” while the rest of us laugh ‘til it hurts.

In the movie, ladies man Black Dynamite (Michael Jai White) is an ex-CIA commando working over both sides of the law in Los Angeles. When his brother Jimmy (Baron Vaughn) is killed under mysterious circumstances, the CIA reinstate Black Dynamite’s license to kill. With the help of his rhyming sidekick Bullhorn (co-writer Byron Minns), and the flamboyant Cream Corn (Tommy Davidson), Black Dynamite declares war on all the drug dealers pumping smack into the ghetto.

The overly muscular, mustachioed vigilante and his nunchucks then spend pretty much the rest of the 2nd act kung-fu fighting their way through a badly edited pool hall scuffle, drug dealing pimps, and the mob. Eventually, Black Dynamite deciphers the most asinine logic pattern on the planet and realizes that dope is the least of his problems. The Man has been flooding the ghetto with tainted malt liquor!

Sanders’ film works because the visual gags aren’t over-the-top and in your face. Instead, he subtly employs all the bad jump cut editing, continuity errors, jarring rack focus, odd sepia tones, and unnecessary split screens characteristic of the decade to enhance the clichés and weaknesses of the genre. The bad dialogue and even worse delivery aren’t meant to be slapstick coming from characters aptly named Tasty Freeze, Mo Bitches or Kotex. They’re as serious as the movie is trying to be.

Another thing working in the film’s favor is the intelligence of its irony. For some reason, it’s just funnier when real life martial arts master Michael Jai White, a legitimate badass (he holds black belts in six karate styles and over 26 titles), goes goofball, and winds up apologizing to first lady Pat Nixon (Nicole Sullivan) for pimp slapping her. When the CIA tells Black Dynamite not to leave behind a river of blood in the streets and he agrees to only leave a puddle, we laugh, but still believe him because he makes us want to believe him.

Yes, the standard assortment of costumes, sexcapades, drugs, dealers, pimps, Cadillacs, the Man, and a badass fighting the system are all in there, but they only make up the visual format of this film. You can also find the covert trademark Blaxploitation themes in Sanders' film as long as you know where to look for them. Those who do will find the silencing of political awareness, the curbing of the black man’s sexual prowess, a romanticized focus on self-indulgence, and the evils of advertising.

Obviously, this film isn't for everyone. But, if you're into Blaxploitation parodies, Black Dynamite is a hilarious tribute to the genre. This intelligent, self-reflexive spoof is loaded with enough camp humor to keep you in stitches long after it’s over. If you're planning on seeing this one in the theaters, try to catch a midnight showing. That way you can kick back with your 40 oz. and laugh yourself silly at all the boom mics falling into shots and stand-ins who look nothing like the actor they're replacing. Can you dig it?

© Left From Hollywood 1/15/2010