In New York City, a crusading newspaper is investigating a series of murders that seem to have a thing in common — the staff and clientel of a mob-run brothel. Cops are on the take and couldn’t care less, so it’s up to intrepid reporter Rudy to figure out just what’s going on.
The young reporter’s explanatory voice-over does a lot of heavy lifting in this bizarre mix of Doris Wishman-style sexploitation, late-noir crime thriller and weird whodunnit. But credit where credit’s due: while I wasn’t shocked by who the murderer turned out to be, the motive for the murders really surprised me.
This oddity is as cheap as they come, a barely-any-budget movie starring mostly amateurs. Tons of great faces of real people who mug for the camera and hardly know their lines. Bored strippers and sweaty thugs. Stolen shots in authentic NYC environments, including Chinatown during Chinese new year, mixed with stiff scenes filmed on the grimiest sets ever. A soundtrack consisting mostly of an intrusive Hammond organ and some bizarro-tunes — like ”The Day Mama Washed My Guitar” — all written by director Larry Crane. Who could ask for more? Dr. Runtime approved (74 mins).
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