Y.K. Kim & Park Woo-sang
In case you mistook the trailer for a faux-grindhouse farce, the Alamo Draft House is here to prove that Miami Connection is in fact a real film made in all earnestness. As such, it stands toe to toe with the worst of the worst, having a legitimate claim to the title of most unintentionally bad film ever.
This ludicrously inept project, which is one part recruitment video for the Korean martial art and one part after school admonitory about the dangers of drugs and violence makes The Warriors look like high art by comparison. It's what a Double Dragon movie brought to you by the Church of Latter-day Saints would play like.
After commencing with a little ninja-on-sleazy-gangster violence, we're introduced to Dragon Sound live in concert. With a shirtless, hairy-chested front man sporting a paedo-stache, a fluffy-haired hype girl dancing in workout clothes and lyrics including the cloying pap, "Friends through eternity; loyalty; honesty," the band encompasses some of the most derision-worthy elements of cheesy '80's culture.
When they're not rocking out tunes that sound like the cocky and twee union of Van Halen and Barney, they're performing tracks that actually spell out what's going on in the plot. In fact, nearly every line uttered, in or out of song, is comprised of the most forced exposition imaginable.
The cumbersome plot manufactures rivalries between the members of Dragon Sound and a series of ridiculous gangs: the previous house band they replaced; the gym rat skids backing the token female member's arbitrarily overprotective brother; and those wacky biker honky ninjas.
Between poorly choreographed showdowns – minions basically line up to be kicked and grunt out battle cries while just standing around – there's a tenuous subplot about one of the band members waiting to receive a letter about his long lost father. How touching; all of the members of Dragon Sound are orphans who've found camaraderie and support in the righteous family of Tae Kwon Do.
There's definitely an audience out there for anything this laughably incompetent – the sound effects sound like they were triggered by a Casio keyboard; the ADR is way out of synch; the performances vacillate wildly between laconic and melodramatic – but, even though it's riddled with hypocritical idealism, getting your jollies from mocking a movie this indomitably imbecilic is about as sporting as spearing special needs kids in a barrel. (Draft House)
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