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Breathing Fire
1991; directed by Lou Kennedy

Breathing Fire is a total pile of stinky early 1990's cheese, from the neon surf wear sported by many of the actors, to a dance sequence that features a jheri-curl coiffed gentleman doing his best Michael Jackson impersonation, to the distressing image of seeing Bolo Yeung in drag. But it never takes itself too seriously and delivers a good amount of action, which makes it a worthy enough viewing if you're a fan of "classic" B-movies.

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If you were ever wondering what Jonathan Ke Quan did after Temple of Doom and Goonies, well, here you go. Data here plays Charlie, a kid adopted by Vietnam veteran Michael, played by former kickboxing champion Jerry Trimble. Does anyone think it's strange or perhaps in bad taste that a Vietnam vet would name his Vietnamese son Charlie? Anyway, Charlie and his brother Tony (Eddie Saavedra) are competitive in the world of martial arts, which skills come in handy when their uncle, David (Ed Neil), comes stumbling to their house towing along a girl named Jenny (Jacqueline Pulliam) whose father has been killed by a group of dastardly bank robbers, who are after a fake piece of pizza that holds the key to getting their stash.

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Yeah, you read that right. A fake piece of pizza. Alfred Hitchcock always stated that whatever the "mcguffin" (the plot object/element which drives a story, i.e., the briefcase in Pulp Fiction) actually was didn't actually matter, but then again, they didn't have pizza replicas back in the 1940's. Anyway, it turns out that Michael is actually the head of the bank robbers -- before any nerds scream "spoiler alert", this is revealed in the first five minutes -- and so he sends his gang (which includes Bolo in a total "beer money" small role, despite his top billing) to kill Jenny and get the mysterious plastic pizza slice.

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Since he apparently doesn't care about his children, Michael is willing to let them go in order to get to the loot. This leads to Charlie and Tony doing the mandatory montage (which, of course, is accompanied by the time-appropriate hair-metal cock-rock) while they train with David, who despite being a drunken cripple who knows more about how to handle a bottle of Jack Daniels than a sword, teaches them a "deadly" form of kung fu. Well, it's not deadly really, as this seems to be one of the most sedate R-rated films you'll come across. There's no blood, no swearing harsher than "ass", and nary a boob to be found. Perhaps the ratings board gave Breathing Fire a R to try and protect the little ones out there from not seeing Bolo in drag. Seriously, who thought that was a good idea? Ish.

Breathing Fire    Breathing Fire

Despite whatever is wrong with Breathing Fire -- and, believe me, there's a whole hell of a lot to take issue with here -- it ends up being a fairly fun brainless romp. Don't get me wrong -- in no way, shape, or form, could this be considered a great movie, or even a good one. But it does (at least for this reviewer) bring back some warm fuzzy memories, where Saturday afternoons were your own, and spending ninety minutes of it watching something like this picture wouldn't be considered a total waste of time. And, hey, where else are you going to see Short Round getting into a brawl with midgets?

RATING: 6

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