One day I will have a house, in that house I will have a den, and in that den I will hang this poster. All will be right with the world. Also I think I will have a pipe. Maybe a smoking jacket. And a steak. Yeah.

Right now my living room is full of ceramic dishes, bowels, flower pots and cups. Some might accuse me of robbing a Pottery Barn, but they would be wrong. Well, half wrong, the ceramics didn't come from there, but this festive was of blood soaked bills did, doesn't it just tie the room together?

As for the piles of merchandise filling my living quarters with a veritable late night mine field of potential jagged shards of Earthenware, Penn and I are starting an online ceramics business to bring in some extra scratch on the side, and, in loo of getting some sort of warehouse, shed or closet to store this stuff in, we opted for the easier and far cheaper "anywhere there is a flat surface" technique of long term storage. Because of the craziness of unpacking and inventorying a ton of goods brings with it, I haven't had time to sit down with any of the many, many films that are on my list of future reviews, so instead I will review a film I have seen many, many times over the years, and will demand, in no uncertain terms, that you watch whenever you come to my home.

I speak of course of Xanadu.

But since Xanadu is not on Bluray, and I will not defile my entertainment system with DVD's or -gasp- a Laserdisc, I wont be showing off that particular cocaine binge anytime soon. Instead, expect a sit down with Michael Jai White's lovingly crafted ode to blaxpoitation films, "Black Dynamite".

Black Dynamite is a former CIA operative turned kung fu master turned pimp, who is thrust into...well every woman he meets, but mostly into a plot to destroy the black man by The Man, when his brother is mowed down by the aforementioned The Man. Along the way he must clean up the streets from all the smack that has been filling the little orphans up, because they are orphans, and the worst part about orphans is that they don't have no parents.

Now one of the things that I want to get out of the way early in this review is that "Black Dynamite" seems to have picked up the title of a spoof film since it's 2009 release, and I could not disagree with that more. Many reviewers like to lump the film together with "Scary Movie" and "Kung Pow: Enter the Fist", when this could not be further from the truth. In those films the genre is the joke itself, poking fun at the various cliches that have become common place in the films (or in the case of how Scary Movie has degraded, pointing out that someone is a celebrity, then making an observational statement about something that has happened in recent memory then farting). "Black Dynamite" doesn't poke fun at the terrible Blaxpoitation films of the 70's, because "Black Dynamite" IS one of those movies. Every piece of this film is lovingly crafted to the finest detail to emulate films such as "Superbad" and "Dolemite" right down to the terribly choreographed fight scenes and the pointless, borderline pornographic, objectification of women. This was a film made by a lover of the genre who just wanted to make his mark on the genre, even if he is a few decades late. In this regard, "Black Dynamite" is much closer to films such as "Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz"

Pretty much the same movie when you take away the zombies, London, characters, time frame, and honkies. Also the ice cream.

In fact, much like the Guns and Ice Cream trilogy, part of the fun in "Black Dynamite" comes from picking up on the hidden nods to previous films in the genre. From Bullhorn's clearly Dolemite inspired lyrics, to random throwaway lines from other classic films ("Where is Bucky and what has he had?"), every inch of this movie is meant to make you look back and remember the films that paved the way for it. OK, maybe not for most of my reading audience, as I am guessing " Hammer" isn't exactly on most of your Netflix queues, and Rudy Ray Moore isn't a name that brings up much of anything in most of your minds, although it should. It really really should.

This is the only work safe picture I could find. That is ALMOST not a joke.

"Black Dynamite" is a film that forgoes conventional reviews, as any attempt on my part to do that would just involve me reading off some of the great one liners and jokes of the movie, and that wouldn't be doing anyone any favors (although I will say "Sarcastically, I'm in charge" and leave it at that), the highest praise I can give to it is that, so far as I can tell from watching other people watch the movie, it that you don't need to know about 1970's black cinema to enjoy it, you don't need to know your Dolemites from your Slaughters, and you most certainly don't need to know about Black Belt Jones, but if "Black Dynamite" makes you at all curious about the incredible history of African American movie makers, and their, often times terrible, terrible films that somehow work in ways that they should never, ever, have worked (cough - Blackula- cough), well then welcome to a whole new world, filled with violence, bare breasts, karate scenes with people with only passing knowledge of what karate looks like and funk. Lots and lots of funk.

And Pam Grier, and her hair. Her katamari level hair.

Rating A+

(As a side note, I referenced Xanadu and Katamari in n article about Black Dynamite, which either makes me amazing, or a sick, sick man. I can't decide which.
Also, you will notice that I deliberately stayed away from mentioning the amazing cartoon on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim that Michael Jai White has produced. This is because, while amazing, it is to the movie version of Black Dynamite as, well, as any animated show is to it's live action counter part. It can be good, but it is fundamentally a different creature. Watch both, it will not be time ill spent.

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