"It's beginning to make sense." "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about international terrorism, mass murder and a legend of supernatural horror that goes back over 200 years." If that exchange doesn't tell you every reason why this is worth your time, it's really time we just give up on visual entertainment and pretend we have things to talk to our friends and coworkers about as a way to pass the time before our bodies give up and we go back to the dirt from wence we came.
Imagine you had one chance to make a movie, so instead of playing it safe, you put everything you ever thought should be in a movie into that one movie. But even more than that, imagine if you got to make the movie you used to dream about falling asleep in 8th grade math? You start to dose off and you look at the faces of your classmates and think "She could be a hard nose detective who battles....that one over there who is a native american warrior and....the Asian exchange kid, well, we make him more Fu Man-Chu-ey and he could be hosting an international fighting competition that serves blood sacrifices up to... *spots class hesher* ...Satan! And throwing stars. All the throwing stars. And implants. All the implants" That is the feeling you get with Jim Wynorskis first feature. A film his inner 12 year old wrote, with his dick, while sitting under a Revenge of the Ninja poster. It's not that it doesn't take itself seriously, it's that it knows deep in it's heart that it is awesome. "The Lost Empire." 1984