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nIn a film replete with shoot-outs, leggy hostages, upskirts, leggy reporters, upshorts, leggy floozies, finger knives, uptowels and not-so leggy lascivious pre-coital fruit consumption, I can’t believe Cyborg Cop had me looking up fanny packs before beginning my review. Whether you know them as waist wallets or bum bags, the fanny pack is the key to unlocking this film’s many secrets. Sure, you can unlock its secrets by focusing on the other stuff I mentioned, but take away the fanny pack, and you’ll be looking at yet another cyborg film chock-full of the usual nonsense. Now, I don’t mean to imply that leggy hostages, upskirts, leggy reporters, upshorts, leggy floozies, uptowels and not-so leggy lascivious pre-coital fruit consumption are in anyway nonsense. I’m just saying: Thank you, David Bradley. Thank you for wearing a fanny pack. Seriously, I don’t think I would have made it through the film without it. Of course, I realize that a lot of you are probably thinking to yourself: What’s so amazing about this fanny pack? It’s not that there’s anything all that special about this particular fanny back (it’s black and fits snugly around the waist). No, the reason I’m currently losing my shit over a fanny pack is the length of time David Bradley wears it in this movie.
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nWhile I would love to tell you that David Bradley wears a fanny pack from beginning to end during Cyborg Cop, directed by Sam Firstenberg (Ninja III… Dominion!), I can’t, because I think he takes it off while having hot, naked, back arching heterosexual intercourse with a leggy lady reporter.
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nHow cool would it have been had they shown that David Bradley was still wearing his trusty fanny pack as he plowed gingerly into the leggy lady reporter’s not even close to being pugnacious lady vagina?
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nJudging by the excessive amount of head nodding I’m seeing out there, it would seem that most of you agree… that it would have been cool. Unfortunately, he doesn’t wear it during sex. Nonetheless, he does wear it a lot in this movie.
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nWhat’s that? You’re saying that I’ve already established that David Bradley wears a fanny pack for an inordinate amount of time in this movie? Well, I’m establishing it again. In fact, anyone who fails to repeatedly mention the fanny pack clinic that David Bradley puts on in this movie for nearly ninety straight minutes is straight-up mentally-ill.
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nAnd not only are they mentally-ill, they must be blind as well. I mean, you can practically see his fanny pack from space.
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nYou know what else you can see from space? The film’s contrived I hate you/I love you relationship. Actually, when we’re first introduced to Jack Ryan (David Bradley), a hard-boiled DEA agent who plays by his own rules, and Kate (Alonna Shaw), an ambitious lady reporter with legs for days, I had no idea they would meet again. However, it’s obvious to anyone with a functioning brain and/or genitals that Jack and Kate will be straddling one another like a couple of shaved squirrels in no time.
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nHowever, before any kind of hairless rodent humping can commence, Jack Ryan’s brother, Phillip (Todd Jensen), who is also a DEA agent, needs to be turned into a cyborg. And for that to happen, Phillip has to be sent on a doomed mission to bring down Kessel (John Rhys-Davies), a drug kingpin/cyborg expert who lives on a tropical island in the Caribbean.
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nOh, and if you’re wondering why Jack wasn’t with his brother on this doomed mission. What’s that? You weren’t wondering that. Either way, Jack wasn’t there because he was kicked off the force for gunning down the son of a prominent Denver newspaper publisher. You see, his son (who, I guess, forgot to take his meds that day) had taken a leggy party girl (Kimberleigh Stark) hostage. Tracking him to a rundown warehouse, Jack and Phillip have him cornered. Instead of waiting for back-up, Jack decides to take care of it himself… Cobra-style. Personally, I thought it was a clean kill. Nonetheless, Jack is dubbed a “rogue cop” by the press and the self-proclaimed “double-trouble psycho cops” are all but finished as a duo.
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nAs Jack is comforting the leggy party girl after the shoot-out, the press come rushing in. Lead by Kate, who is wearing a bulky naval-style blue blazer with a toilet seat collar, the press inundate Jack and the leggy party girl with pointed questions and flashbulb photography.
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nWhen I saw Kate burst onto the scene like that, I was like, Ooooh, I like this chick’s style. Brash and blonde, Kate seems like the kind of gal who knows what she wants, and she clearly knows how to get it. After the warehouse scene is was over, I figured that was the last we’ll ever see of Kate, the brash, blonde, leggy lady reporter.
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nIn what has to be the biggest coincidence in movie history, Jack bumps into Kate while attempting to rent a car on the Caribbean island of St. Keith. The former is there, like I said earlier, to find out what happened to his brother, and the latter is there to do a story or some bullshit. While this meeting doesn’t go smoothly (they mainly shout at each for the duration), you can totally tell that they have the hots for one another.
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nIt’s during their second chance meeting that they end up stuck with each other. Though, I have to say, the evolution of their courtship could have used a little more build-up. I mean, they go from constantly bickering with one another to eating fruit together rather quickly.
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nAnyway, while Kate is questioning the local authorities, Jack heads down to The Jive Bar to get some information on the whereabouts of his brother. While there, Jack fends off a couple of leggy floozies (leggy floozies love men in fanny packs) and beats up some of Kessel’s henchmen. I don’t know what I liked better, Jack’s unique, kick his adversaries in the face fighting style or his leggy floozy fending off skills.
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nWhile the chemistry between David Bradley, his fanny pack and Alonna Shaw is undeniable, the cyborg action is a tad lacking. Other than a brief scene in the island morgue and a quick demo Kessel gives for some potential investors, the film is pretty light when it comes to cyborgs. On the bright side, we do get a lot of scenes that feature David Bradley gunning down henchmen. Sure, his shotgun would some times sound like a machine gun and his shotgun would some times sound like a machine gun, but I can’t stay mad at a film that boasts a grown man blowing away henchmen and fending off leggy floozies while wearing a fanny pack.
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