L.A. Vice (1989) – Joseph Merhi.

I feel that it is entirely just to claim that no true blue B-movie cultist can remain oblivious to the hyper-ballistic, generously pyromaniacal charms of indie-action impresarios PM Entertainment Inc. Det. Chance (Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs) investigates a mob-curated kidnapping, which leads to the expectedly explosive conflagration of bloody bullet-hits, cliched Goombah blarney, fisticuffs, alpha cop repartee, and the obligatory scene of convenience store carnage. PM Entertainment are mostly consistent purveyors of above-average DTV goodness, and hiring gravel-voiced icon William Smith, albeit briefly, provides additional value. Det. Chance is a charismatic, shoot first, Miranda rights later cop, he eats bullets for breakfast, pisses napalm, has a dynamite right hook, and is no less adept at kicking ass, than tapping it!

Merhi's grungier L.A. Vice enjoys a flintier edge, in addition to the plentiful blood-squibs, someone is cruelly immolated, and a wise guy is gorily disseminated into family-sized chunks of Ravioli! L.A. Vice culminates in a wholesomely gee-whizz fashion, blithely suggesting that no amount of gratuitous violence can't be wholly redeemed by an act of God-fearin' charity. The DNA to Chance's roughneck cop, like many others, can be directly linked to Harry Callahan, his volatile admixture of might is right, street smarts, and straight-shooting morality means Chance sho' nuff gets the job done! L.A Vice is conspicuously less polished than PM Entertainment's later, slicker productions, but, for me, that works eminently in its favour!