In short: Run Coyote Run (1987)

A Interpol agent with psychic powers (Renee Harmon) is looking for the killers of her sister. Her investigation – which mostly consists of hanging around various places in California and having psychic flashes to other movies – is in turns hindered by her grumpy old man boss, mob goons (one of whom is also a biker preacher with a hankering for a TV ministry), voices from the off, and others. What others? The film ain’t telling, that’s for sure, and trying to figure it out will turn you into a Lovecraft protagonist.

Anyone approaching this particular case of filmmaking should keep in mind as a safety measure: do not try to understand, just let it flow over you. I did, and I’ve got the headache to prove it.

This is a long lost product of the frightening creative partnership between James “Don’t Go in the Woods…Alone!!!” Bryan and Renee “Frozen Scream” Harmon. Clearly, these two bonded on their shared hatred for logic and common sense, and boy does the film show. This is at once a sequel to and a remake of the duo’s Lady Streetfighter (obviously not to be confused with Sister Streetfighter with Etsuko Shihomi) in which Harmon plays the sister of that film’s main character, as well as said main character herself in the multitude of scenes taken from it. Because that’s not enough to turn this into the true sort of patchwork movie this is going for, there are also three or four other movies with Bryan and/or Harmon involvement used as sources for non-flashback parts of the movie. Consequently, there’s a strip joint in the film that is at once situated in the late 70s and the late 80s worlds of highly impoverished sets; Harmon ages and de-ages in rapid succession; a climactic fight scene pretends that dressing up two guys in the new footage similarly to two completely different looking guys from old footage will make it possible to just cut two bad fights together to form one ultra-bad one; the soundtrack contains pearls like a joke synth version of a certain spaghetti western theme, as well as what I can only call an assortment of random stuff.

There’s so much of this high effort low effort nonsense involved in the film, you have to ask yourself if there wasn’t an easier way to make a movie than to cut bits and pieces of new footage and scenes from half a dozen other films together and pretend it’s a narrative (there are even plot twists which make as little sense as anything else in here, of course). Only Doctor Frankenstein can understand.