Disco Godfather

What can possibly be said about "Godfather" that hasn't already been repeated countless times in previous reviews? The plot is relatively simple: disco entrepreneur Rudy Ray pulls no punches against drug-pushers after his nephew gets "whacked out" on angel dust (PCP) one evening at the Blueberry Hill discotheque.

But to run down the plot of Disco Godfather without commenting on the stylistics would be the same as explaining the delightful flavor of a fudge brownie by listing the ingredients.

Foremost, this movie is the quintessential blacksploitation flick, complete with vigilante crime-fighting, brightly colored polyester outfits, and throbbing, string-instrumented dance music. Anybody who comes to the movie with a love for these often humorous elements of seventies blacksploitation will enjoy Rudy Ray's vigorous performance and whacky one-liners.

And as with most of Rudy's other works, the believability of the plot and the logical coherence of the characters' actions take a backseat to glamour (wasn't that was the seventies were all about, anyway)? Between the incredible hallucination sequences, the traces of a plot occasionally catch the viewer's eye only to vanish once more beneath layers of pointless (but entertaining) kung-fu, dancing, drug use, and gratuitous sex.

Watch this only if you have a stomach for the glitzy superficialness of the seventies or if you're a yuckster looking for a good laugh.