Rated | Alphabetical
George Pan Cosmatos, USA, 1986
Posted: December 03, 2002
Crime is the disease. He's the cure. Sylvester Stallone is Marion
Cobretti, the "final option" when all other, normally-dressed cops have failed.
From what I can gather, there's a new breed of criminal out there, thugs who've
banded together to form some type of cult. How do we know it's a cult? Easy.
They gather underground and rhythmically bang axes and shovels together around a
fire. It's kinda like Scientology, or so I'm told. So anyway, there's always
that small handful of cut-ups who give the other cult members a bad name, and
they're trying to kill Ingrid (Brigitte Nielson), to keep her from testifying in
court against one of their cult brethren. To keep this valuable witness safe,
Cobretti naturally whisks her away to a remote location, far away from any
back-up, where they're certain to be disemboweled by a horde of fanatical
cultists. Of course, the cult closes in on our isolated pair, ready for some
disemboweling action, and mayhem ensues: Lots of car chases, grenade throwing,
submachine guns with laser sights -- you know, the usual. There is one standout
moment amid all the carnage, a scene akin to holding a mirror up to another
mirror and pondering infinity, when Cobra picks up a bobble head doll, shakes
it, and then moves his own head back and forth to ape the doll's motions.
Magnificence, thy name is Stallone! Where was Oscar that year? And let me not
forget Cobra's trademark, a Colt automatic with a cobra's head carved into the
ivory grip. Classy. It just proves what Gandhi himself once said: "If you gotta
go strapped, you might as well look good doing it." This ain't The Crying
Game, so don't expect any surprise endings, just a slam-bang Saturday
afternoon action flick. As long as you approach Cobra with the proper
mindset (you hear me Laurence Station?), a good time will be had by all.
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