Dolemite

Here is a film that defies every rule of what makes great cinema and kicks it right on it’s MUTHA-FUCKIN’ ass. The story of an over-weight karate-hitting pimp and his army of karate whores taking revenge on the rival pimp who set him up and killed his cousin has been talked about for years, and will continue to be talked about as one of the most incredible, drug-induced hallucinatory films of all time. The child of the now-departed Rudy Ray Moore, the film grabbed the clichés of blaxploitation and took it for a walk. You have not seen cinema, hell, you do not know shit about cinema until you see the mightiness that is Dolemite.
Now granted, this greatness comes from just how bad this movie can get. After all, I defy you to watch a movie that has worse lighting, sound and editing problems. The music is pure cheese, and even the boom mike makes an appearance, almost as many as ten times (I wish I had counted)! The action scenes are silly and badly staged, having the grace of a Bruce Lee suffering of arthritis. But what makes the film the great piece of cinematic cheese that it is, is Dolemite himself, Rudy Ray Moore. The man kicks ass all over the place, does some jive-ass rapping, has an afro that would put some black men to shame and dresses like a pimp superhero. He also fucks everything in sight, which is incredible considering how over-weight he is, and has a face of a man who looks eternally drunk. His dialogue is some of the most hilarious in the history of cinema, cursing like a black sailor at a Klan rally. His name is the title of the movie for a reason, and when you see this film, you will be scarred for life. So I say, open up your heart, and your eyes, and watch the cinematic gold-colored shitstain that is Dolemite. You won’t regret it.